7. Coming Back Down to Earth

“Sorry,” Ewan says as he gets out of bed. “I need to take this.”

“Of course.”

He’s already out of the room and ducking into the bathroom a second later. The door closes behind him.

We agreed to spend the night together and I’m grateful we had the chance to be together once before the interruption. Of course, I can’t help reminding myself that neither of us wanted to stop at once.

Then Ewan’s alpha called. I pray it will be a mistake or a simple fix. That he’ll come back and we’ll finish what we started. Given his pack’s struggles and that they’re potentially on the brink of ruin, the chances of something easy seem slim.

Ewan emerges a few moments later. Still naked, he hadn’t stopped to put on clothes. I’m not looking at his body for once. I stare at his face. He stops against the door, unsure how to proceed, and his face tells me all I need to know.

“You have to go, don’t you?”

“Sorry,” he says, not denying it. He has to go. “This isn’t what we planned.”

“No, there’s no need to apologize.” I try not to pout or show my disappointment. It can’t be helped. “If your pack needs you, you should go.”

Ewan sighs and starts moving towards the bed, searching for and collecting his clothes while he goes. I watch as he puts on his shirt and bends down for his pants. I feel like I should be doing something, but I just lay in the sheets and watch him prepare to leave me behind.

We agreed to spend one night together, then go our separate ways. I’m not so sure that deal suits me anymore.

One night is nice and all, but what if I want more?

“Sorry,” he says again. He does up the button on his jeans, patting his pockets to make sure his wallet is still there and hasn’t fallen out. “I wish I could stay.”

“Hey, duty calls.”

“Doesn’t mean we have to like it.” His regret is clear, which is nice, but does us no good.

I summon a weak smile. “Pack comes first. Right? I assume.”

“Pack comes first in many cases,” he agrees slowly, watching me with an unreadable expression.

“Then you can’t keep your alphas waiting, not on my account.”

A one-night stand is definitely not something that comes before pack. That would encourage wolves to think with the equipment in their pants instead of their brains. A long-term partner, however, I wonder if that’s one of the exceptions that a wolf is allowed to put first once in a while. But we aren’t that.

Ewan hovers near the foot of the bed. “So, I guess this is goodbye.”

“I guess so.”

This is it, isn’t it? Last chance. Come on, Jack, I tell myself. Ask to see him again. Get his number, anything.

I knew this moment was coming. I just thought I’d have more time. Time to figure out what to do. I need more time.

I expected a whole night where I could build up my nerve. A night to debate all the options and talk myself in and out of what to do a thousand times, to study him and guess what he’s thinking and feeling and how likely it is he laughs in my face.

I felt bolder in his arms. I was able to act freely and go after him and do what I wanted. But now I’m in bed alone and I feel like me again. Conflicted and anxious and unsure.

I don’t know what to say. I can’t say anything. I don’t know what to do. I can’t do anything.

Ewan doesn’t say or do anything either. He just keeps getting farther away. Surely if he felt the same, he wouldn”t be tongue tied and fumbling like me. He’d go after what he desires, he…

Ewan stops by the door and my heart leaps in my chest. One last opportunity. He’ll take it. He has to.

“By the way, it looks good,” he murmurs.

“Huh?”

“Natural,” he says. “You look good natural.”

Then the door opens and he slips away. He’s gone.

Alone in the room, I stare after him, unable to move. I puzzle through what just happened. Is the last thing he said to me that I look good naked? Odd. Those words are more suited to the heat of passion than a parting line. That can’t be right. Did I hear him wrong?

I’m not sure about what he said, but what happened is much easier to figure out. I let him leave. He left. He’s gone.

I struggled with indecision. I wanted to ask for his number, but I wasn’t sure it was the right decision. Once he’s gone it seems so clear. I’m an idiot. I should have said something.

“I’m an idiot,” I tell the empty room and bury my face in a pillow.

If we’d had more than one night, if we got to know each other better and explored what was between us more… I can’t help feeling like it might have lasted much more than one night. Or two.

Maybe, just maybe, it might have been so much more. I just lost the opportunity to find out and now… It’s over before it even began. I don’t even know what I’ve missed out on. Will I always wonder what could have been?

Maybe nothing. I reassure myself. Maybe this was the best it would ever get with him, one night. Maybe I lost nothing at all.

The doubt is still there in the back of my mind. Or what if I just lost a chance at everything?

* * *

Two days after my great escape, nothing is back to normal yet.

Mother clears her throat and sends my father an important look over her coffee cup. “Tell yourson about the event today.”

“No, you tell your sonthat—”

“I can hear you,” I say. We all sit at the same breakfast table. “We all know I can hear you. Just tell me.”

…

Actually, one thing is back to normal after I went wild and enjoyed some freedom two days ago: me. I’m back to normal.

I admit I was emotional when the night with Ewan ended early and he unceremoniously walked out the door. Not getting his number seemed like a colossal mistake and I got sentimental, beating myself up about this grand romance we could have had.

In the light of day the next morning, after caffeine and breakfast, I saw how silly and sentimental I acted. Our one-night stand wasn’t the start of some epic love affair. It was only marking the end of one chapter and the start of another. I had a night to experience all the wonders of earth magic and now it was all out of my system. Now I could commit to ice with no regrets.

…And when it comes to Ewan, what other choice is there? I have to move on and tell myself it meant nothing since I won’t be seeing him again.

Father breaks the silence. “Please remind yourson that it’s rude to interrupt people when they’re talking.”

“Only if you tell him that it’s rude to break appointments the day of with no warning or even an apology.”

Technically, I blew off a meeting set up on my behalf, not one I agreed to. Committing someone to an event without even telling them beforehand also seems like a violation of, if not decorum, then at least common courtesy.

Even though the set up happened without any input from me whatsoever, I still tried to apologize to Percy Brass for standing him up. I’ve been calling him and left a few messages, but he clearly doesn’t care to mend fences.

Clearly, we aren’t meant to be.

My breakfast is already getting cold. Frost lines the walls in the dining room, even encroaching onto the ancestral portraits of past Blanchard icebrands, so it’s important to eat quickly while the food is warm without eating so quickly that you demonstrate bad table manners.

I push my plate away and give up on breakfast. “Okay, we need to talk.”

My parents acting oblivious was amusing at first. Sitting at opposite ends of the long dining table, they literally have to overlook me here in the middle to ignore me. But surely it’s better to just deal with this, no beating around the bush.

“Look, I know my behavior was childish.” I speak to the tops of my mother and father’s heads in turn as they continue the silent treatment. “I shouldn’t have run off. I felt overwhelmed, like you’d already picked out china patterns for my nuptials with Percy Brass.”

“It was a lunch date,” Mother says. “We weren’t asking you to walk down the aisle.”

“It didn’t feel like just lunch. Once we met, you’d expect me to see him again, wouldn’t you? And if we didn’t hit it off, I worried he would only be the first in a long line of suitors.” I sigh. “I handled the situation poorly and should have just been honest about my reservations. Excuse me.”

I stand from the table after excusing myself but find I’m not quite done. “Keep in mind, freezing someone out is a bit tooeffective if you two are the ones doing the freezing out. I’m liable to get hypothermia and end up in the hospital.”

I expect another round of frosty silence, but after only a quick wordless exchange between the two of them, Father dabs his mouth with a napkin and clears his throat to speak.

“Yes, perhaps we owe you an apology too. We don’t like being embarrassed… and it’s possible we aren’t acting maturely either.”

“Oh,” I say. It’s all I can say. Are they… sharing responsibility for this fiasco?

“The setup was quite… sudden,” Mother agrees. “No wonder you felt cornered, like we expected you to partner with ice and this man at the same time and it was already a done deal.”

“The thought did cross my mind,” I admit.

Father only nods. “We understand if it seemed…”

“Cold?” I suggest.

“Clinical,” he offers instead.

“More direction in your personal life should help guide your element as well,” Mother adds. “We were only making a suggestion. This man, he’s only an option, not set in ice.”

“Stone is the expression.”

Mother scoffs. “Ice is better.”

“We need to make sure you’re motivated towards branding,” Father adds. “Before you know it, it will be too late.”

I laugh. “I’m in my early 20s.”

“The time goes quickly. Hesitate too long and it only becomes more difficult.”

“We’ve seen it happen,” father adds quietly. “You do have time to meet the right man. The elements, however, only offer opportunities for so long.”

Their implications are more chilling than the dining room and their cold shoulder put together. Protections and tokens only keep casters safe for so long. Decades of casting without a true partnership to an element start outweighing the effectiveness of a token’s blessing. A brand will take care of the problem. But novice casters who reach middle age start exhibiting a host of warning signs, like a sickness that has physical and magical symptoms to name one example. Like a fire magic user in bed with a fever that starts burning the sheets and the pillow.

If a caster is at risk of permanent damage and can’t secure a brand, their powers are bound and the caster is permanently cut off from magic for their own safety.

Working so hard for decades, being so close to magic, and then never merging with an element? It sounds like a nightmare. Not really something us novices enjoy thinking about.

“We’re only trying to look out for your best interests,” Father says. “But we know you need to follow your heart too.”

I smile. “Thank you. It means so much to hear you say that.”

“Percy and his family are coming to dinner tonight,” Mother informs me. “It should be an opportunity to patch things up without any pressure for you and Percy to hit it off.”

“I’ll be there,” I promise.

”Will you assist us in creating the centerpiece for tonight?” Dad wonders as they begin rising from the table.

Breakfast gets cleared away to make room for us to work around the table. My parents occasionally make ice sculptures for centerpieces when hosting company, especially when hosting non-icy guests. They’re always impressed by the unique creations, limited time art that only invited guests have the pleasure of viewing.

My parents stand on opposite sides of the antique table, the glowing snowflakes brands shining on their arms even through their shirts. Ice magic flows from their palms, swirling together to create a massive block of ice in the middle of the table.

We’ve done this before, so I look to them for direction in what we’re carving.

“This time, we’ll follow your direction,” Mother declares.

“R-really?” They’ve never done this before.

Father nods. “Start carving.”

We really have reached a new understanding. Finally, they see me as an adult. I’m excited to take the lead and show them what I can do. A shape forms in my mind and I call the magic to me, ready to start changing the block of ice.

When I try to use my powers, nothing happens.

“Are you not feeling well?”

“Do you have your token? It may be symbolic, but you always cast with it. Altering your ritual can cause hiccups.”

“No, I’m fine,” I rush to say before they ask more questions. “Sorry. Give me a second.” I take a deep breath.

My hands tremble, the pressure mounting as I attempt to channel my magic into the frozen block before me. The ice remains unaffected, taunting me with its unblemished surface.

I’m bothered enough I even start thinking icy thoughts. Cold winds, the biting chill of winter nights, the gentle caress of snowflakes against my skin. Despite my best efforts, the ice remains untouched, my magic failing me once again.

Ice magic has always been within me. What’s going on?

”Are any of your powers working?”

I pull out my ring of tokens. Casting anything else in here surrounded by ice always takes considerable effort, but I don’t feel even a twinge of power as my fingers land on tokens. No wind, no sun, no flames. I move on to electricity, the air around me crackling with tension, but yet again, I fail.

Then I hit the seed token for earth magic and it flares up. Before I even realize what I”m doing, I reach out towards the walls, and vines erupt from the plaster. Twisting and turning, they stretch out along the walls, not even bothered by all the ice in the room.

I can still do earth magic. Only earth magic. My parents realize at the same moment as me. They are not pleased.

”What’s going on, Jackson?” Mother demands.

”Are you trying to become an earthbrand?” Father questions.

”Without even telling us?” Mother demands next.

I wish they’d go back to giving me the silent treatment.

”I didn’t,” I whisper. “I didn’t pledge to anything.”

”We should have known something was wrong. Look at his hair.”

”I can’t, I can’t even look at it.”

Yet she does, they both do, glaring at the top of my head.

Oh. I suppose I’m not entirely back to normal. I’ve almost forgotten my hair is black because it’s been icy white for as long as I can remember. Being around ice magic turns my hair the same stark white as my parents.

“Do you think I wanted to have white hair in my twenties?” Mom rants. “This look takes some getting used to, but we wear it with pride. We thought you did too.”

“I was the only six-year-old in my first-grade class with pure white hair! If that doesn’t show pride, I don’t know what does.” I was the only child in the whole school with white hair. Mine was whiter than even the oldest teachers. Mother told me that physical changes like this signified a close relationship with an element and that was something to be proud of. “My hair just turned white one day. And a few days ago, it turned back to its regular color. There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s natural.”

”Is that what you want?” Mother demands. “To be natural instead of magical? To be ordinary?”

”Well, no,” I say. Natural doesn’t sound very nice the way she puts it, but I can’t help remembering how Ewan said it. He turned from the hotel door with a soft smile just to compliment my hair. That’s what Ewan meant when he said I looked good natural. He liked my hair natural. I had no idea what he meant until I finally looked in a mirror and saw the color of my hair had changed.

”This won’t do at all,” Mother protests.

“Earth,” scoffs Father. “You can’t align yourself with earth magic.”

”What? Why not?” I ask, trying not to panic.

“Earth is among the most common brands. Can you really compete with all the other casters?” Mom stops, unable to go on. They both stop pacing and turn to me with stricken expressions. “No, we’re getting ahead of ourselves. It comes down to this. Are you honestly telling us this is your choice? That earth is right for you. You’re giving up the ice and going after an earthbrand? Is that your decision?”

“Well…” I’m torn. Unsure how to explain, all I can do is answer the question. “No, not exactly.”

My magic is showing a preference, but I can’t say I’ve decided, that it’s over and a done deal. I haven’t reached a decision.

But my parents act like my answer is a decision in itself.

”Exactly. Why turn your back on ice?” Mother drifts back to her place at the table. “You’re a Blanchard, that means something. You’re our heir. The Blanchard heir is always an icebrand. Can you imagine how many generations of traditions another brand would destroy?”

”Get this out of your system and fast!” Father orders, his voice like a glacier’s edge. ”Be here tonight for our dinner party, with your ice abilities operational.”

Their anger and panic only makes me more distressed and I rush out of the dining room with my head spinning. I thought we made progress and yet they went right back to demanding things and judging me… and I went right back to listening to them, on autopilot.

The easiest way to view my night with Ewan is that it was a way to blow off steam and get earth magic out of my system.

My magic, however, isn’t letting what happened that night go so easily. It clings to the earth magic, which obviously means something. But right now, my parents’ wrath has me springing into action and rushing off to fix everything. I have to figure out why my magic is stuck in earth and undo it. Then… I have no idea. I’ll start there.

The rest is much more complicated.

Apparently, my parents and I didn’t reach the understanding I thought we did. They told me to follow my heart. I can pick my man, not my element. The rest is set in stone—no, set in ice.

There’s only one option for my element. Ice.