“And what about the rest of us? We rode through that storm, too, and we came to no harm. Because the part of you that you never have to think about kept guiding the sea around our ships. Swells that would have destroyed a ship if they’d crested, never crested. We sailed through mountains of water that didn’t tumble in on themselves until the ships were past them. That wasn’t luck, Jenny. That was love. You have to know that. This fight isn’t over, and the day may come when you need to shape the sea into a weapon again to save those you hold dear. I’d take that burden from you if I could, and do it with a glad heart, but I don’t have your strength and I can’t command the sea the way you do.”

Mihail put one arm around Jenny, drawing her against him. “So you have to know, sister dear, that if you give the sea your fury to fight against the enemy, love will always flow under it to protect your friends.”

Jenny broke, weeping bitterly as she clung to her brother. It felt as if the sea crashed inside her, fierce waves breaking the foundation upon which she’d built her life, the security she’d always had that her creed was her protection against using her gift to harm instead of help.

“You’ve lost your innocence, Jenny,” Mihail said when her sobs had finally eased back to sniffles. “And I’m sorry for it. It’s no comfort, but you’re not alone. There will be other witches who will weep bitter tears when they make the same choice and break the creed. But they’ll break it because they must, and they’ll weep to ease the grief in their hearts—and they’ll go on with their lives.”

“It will never be the same,” Jenny whispered.

“No, it will never be the same.”

Jenny said nothing for a while, finding comfort in the steady beat of Mihail’s heart beneath her cheek. Finally, she eased back, fumbled in her pocket for a handkerchief, and wiped her face. She looked away, feeling a fresh stab of grief, which had been hidden under the storm but had been raging inside her. “The selkies are afraid of me. Murtagh is afraid of me.”

Mihail laughed.

Jenny stared at him, insulted. “How can you laugh about it?”

“I’m sorry, Jenny. I am. But—” He winced when he moved without thinking. “Mother’s tits. My shoulder is going to be tender for a while.” He smiled at her and shook his head. “I am sorry, but you’re thinking like a woman.”

“And that’s bad?”