Page 115 of Truly Madly Magically

She waits for the muttering that comes from the crowd, then seems to grow taller as she stands there. Bolstered by the people. By her own determination to do what’s right.

It’s scary how good she is at this. “We will not be cowed. We will not be intimidated into stepping away from our great duty. Which is, as it has always been, to keep witches all across the world safe.”

We can’t speak. We can’t argue. I know, because I try. Just as I keep trying everything in my power to get through that shield around Sadie.

My little sister, who’s crying again, looking at me with wide, wild eyes that scream save me.

I look out at the crowd. Surely other people have to find this horrible. Tying up a child. Parading her in front of a crowd of witches, all more powerful than she is, weak and human and helpless.

I see mouths moving out there on the grass. Bernie the cheese guy looks redder in the face that he usually does. Baker and coffee shop owner Holly Bishop, in particular, has her hands cupped around her mouth like she’s trying to project her voice, but no sound comes out.

It takes me a moment to understand.

There’s a murmur in the crowd, so there are clearly some people who can speak, but as I scan who’s silently moving their mouths and who’s able to talk, I realize that the Joywood have muted anyone who supports us. The dread inside of me curls tighter.

I look back toward Emerson. Her mouth is firm, and her eyes are on Holly too.

“This human,” Carol continues, pointing at Sadie, “was caught red-handed. Enacting her half sister’s evil plan. We cannot let such a heinous crime go unpunished.”

“Carol, she’s a child.”

This statement, shockingly, comes from Susan Martingale, who’s always been a staunch Joywood supporter. Presumably that’s why she wasn’t muted.

Carol’s expression goes pinched. “I wasn’t suggesting we take this out on her.”

Though it was obvious she was doing exactly that.

Carol flicks a hand. Now even her supporters have been muted. No dissent. No questions.

“She didn’t do it on her own, of course,” Carol says as if there’s been no interruption. “She did it at Ellowyn Good’s behest. She will remain a danger to witchkind as long as her half-witch sister walks the earth. Because Ellowyn has always been an enemy of witchdom and a threat. We must punish them both accordingly.”

“The death penalty for Ellowyn Good!” someone shouts from the crowd.

Except we’re all muted. It’s the Joywood projecting a voice to make it sound like it’s from the crowd.

Parlor games, Frost says derisively in our heads. The province of the desperate.

As long as they don’t work, Georgie retorts.

Death penalty, my ass, I say instead.

Are you even a member of this coven if the Joywood haven’t tried to kill you? Rebekah asks dryly.

I look out at the crowd and notice that even some of the Joywood faithful seem uncertain about the turn this has taken. It occurs to me to put my hands on my bump and really emphasize it, in case that’s the source of the discomfort for some of them. Because it should be.

They’re all about taking me out, but this life I’m growing inside of me is innocent, and I’m not above playing that up. I meet the gaze of anyone who looks at me. I challenge them to really think about what the Joywood are trying to accomplish here.

The Undine perks up again then. “Joywood, you have outlined your accusations. Riverwood, how do you respond?”

Before Emerson can say anything, I step forward. “Let Sadie go. You can tie me up in her place while we argue this out, but let her go.”

“Ellowyn.” My entire coven mutters my name, clearly not thrilled with my choice, but I can’t let Sadie suffer through this a moment longer—even if this is exactly what the Joywood want, me making a spectacle of myself over a human.

Baby, this is that martyrdom I was talking about.

No. At first the denial is knee-jerk, but it settles within me. Just another truth. Sometimes you have to let people make sacrifices for you, I tell him pointedly, because why else is his arm all charred up? And sometimes you have to be the one making the sacrifices.

I can see he doesn’t like that, but he doesn’t argue with me. He is holding on to Emerson and Rebekah like he’s preventing them from moving forward to physically stop me.

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