Page 81 of Enchanted Village

But that was the part of grief no one liked to say. Things held memories. They kept them in place.

And when they were gone, the memories began to slip away, too.

Sand kicked up by a breeze.

Gone before you could grab it.

Imogen returned later that afternoon with someone else. Sarah, who had brought drink ingredients from her own collection.

“While you’re figuring out your own stash,” she said. “You let me know if you need anything else, all right?”

Margaret didn’t have the heart to tell her that it didn’t matter. What had made the ingredients special was that her grandmother had planted them and imbued them with her magic. Now, that magic was gone. At least for now, until the plants could start to regrow.

“Thank you,” was what she said instead.

Chapter Forty-One

Silas had never felt despair like this.

When he was a boy and he’d felt misunderstood, there had been hope that, one day, it would be different. He would find his place where he belonged and fit in. And as an adult, he’d been so sure that he’d found that place.

Here, in Hex Hollow and Emberwind Academy. Here, with Margaret.

But then he had wrecked everything, and she had looked at him with a kind of hatred that he felt certain he would never recover from.

Leave, she’d told him.

And so, he was packing his bags. He’d already packed his suitcase at the inn, and now, he was in his classroom. He hadn’t added much to the space, save for a few handmade charts and textbooks. Mostly, he’d come here to get the books Liza had lent him. He wouldn’t leave any loose ends for anyone to tie up on his behalf. He’d leave the books on her doorstep with a note.

A note of shame.

He hoped she’d gotten to Margaret soon last night. He’d sent word to her with Kindling, detailing everything. There was no point in hiding the garden from her now. Wyatt’s work had been thorough, not a single plant left behind.

Silas let a cold laugh slip from him. All along, he’d believed the boy had seen him as a person to trust, a model educator, when really, all the boy had seen was an easy mark.

“Professor Birchwood.”

Silas looked up. He’d expected his uncle to arrive at some point, though he’d hoped to escape this second failure as well until he’d processed the first. But Elliott Pine looked at him with kind eyes.

“I’m sure you saw this coming,” Silas said. “Though you probably thought I’d at least make it through the break and into the second semester.”

He tried for another laugh. This one was hollow and brittle and would not have convinced anyone, but certainly not his uncle.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Elliott said, stepping into the classroom. “I certainly never anticipated you needing to leave, and frankly, I still don’t.”

Silas avoided looking at his uncle’s eyes. “We both know I don’t belong here.”

Elliott tilted his head. “Because of one mistake?”

Silas shook his head. “I destroyed everything for her. That garden . . .”

“Ah, yes,” Elliott said. “The garden. No need to look surprised, I know about it. Wyatt let me in to show me the extent of the damage. He’s in there now, tending to the plants. Under my supervision, of course.”

A cold chill went through Silas. “He shouldn’t be there. No one should be in there.”

“Miss Nettle won’t be coming in there for the moment,” Elliott assured him. “I’ve made sure Liza knows that restorative acts are being done. Wyatt’s also prepared an apology for you.”

“He doesn’t mean it,” Silas said, unable to keep the ice from his tone. “He ran to his father the second he could. He destroyed that garden. He stole from Margaret. And you think an apology letter will fix it?”