Pain twists in my gut, sparking anger almost hot enough to burn away the guilt. I stand, turning to face her with the broom gripped tight in white-knuckled fists. “I don’t want this magic! I don’t want any of this!”

“Your sister’s right,” Olani says, stepping between us. “You need to start practicing how to control it, or else you’re putting all of us in danger. Personally, I’d rather not die an agonizing, fiery death just because you’re emotionally repressed.”

I’m stiff and silent, but my mind is racing. I don’t want what she’s saying to be true. All I want is to be left alone.

“I’ll help you,” Olani says. “I may not be the best at magic, but I know a little. Raze knows a little more. Together—”

“You have no idea what it’s like trying to control my magic,” I manage, through gritted teeth. I know that my magic is violent and unpredictable, and that’s exactly why I want nothing to do with it.

Yes, you do. You want to seize it, and wring it out for all it’s worth. You know you do.

“I know you don’t want to deal with this...” Isolde starts, a little more gently. She reaches for my arm and gives it a comforting squeeze. “But you have to. You’re strong enough to handle it, Seelie. I believe in you.”

I let out a long exhale, shaking her off so I can sweep my dust pile out the door. I watch Isolde from the corner of my eye. There’s hurt in her face, but she hesitates to reach out to me again. Maybe she’s remembering the wave of fire that devoured the tree, flickering blue light playing on my enraged face as it swept out from me. She wasn’t in its path, but what if she is next time?

I don’t want Isolde to be scared of me. I don’t want to be scared of myself.

Something squeezes tight around me. Deep in my chest, magic surges hopefully, and I nearly choke on it. “I-I need some air,” I mutter, throwing down the broom and stomping out into the night.

Luckily, they don’t follow.

Less luckily, Raze is lying in wait for me in the trees. I don’t think he’s actually trying to trap me, but that doesn’t stop me from tripping over him in the darkness and tumbling to the ground. Pine needles stab into my hands as I let out an undignified grunt.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” he says from the ground, just a few inches from my head. I think this is the third time we’ve tripped over each other, and at this point, I’m not sure he isn’t doing it on purpose. At least he’s a soft person to fall on—no hard edges or sharp lines.

“Shut up.” I push awkwardly away from him, sitting in a shameless heap of dirty skirts on the ground.

He sits up a little straighter but doesn’t listen to me. “So what happened in there? Any time Olani ambushes you for a Real Talk, it can’t be good.”