Queen Rising Read Free

witch, had suddenly crystallized. But the idea of her pain being worth something still seemed somehow inconceivable. Almost as unimaginable as being adopted by witches had seemed a day ago. Yet here she stood.
    â€œWhat is your magic?” Margot asked.
    Ora blinked and then opened her palm. A small flame danced in the center of it. Ora closed her palm, snuffing the flame out.
    â€œYou’re like the Fire Witch,” Margot exclaimed with wonder.
    â€œYes, and not at all.”
    Ora didn’t elaborate. Margot could see the physical difference: Ora’s eyes had remained their pretty brown instead of turning into fiery eclipses. And she did not appear to be burning through her dress.
    â€œI would give anything to be able to do that,” Margot blurted.
    â€œBe careful what you wish for. You might just have to . . .” Then she laughed a sweet little laugh, but it chilled Margot to the bone.
    â€œI see you’ve met Ora,” the Witch of the Woods said, which Margot thought was a welcome interruption. “Are you ready?”
    â€œFor what?”
    â€œTo see what you can do. To see if you have magic. To see what power is within.”

5
    There were a dozen other would-be witches who lived in the Hollow. They formed a semicircle around a fire near the River, along with the three witches of the coven: the Witch of the Woods, the Fire Witch, and the River Witch.
    Margot stood in the center in a special stark-white dress that Ora had made just for the occasion. The others were dressed in white as well and the light of the fire danced shadows upon them.
    â€œWe call fire, water, earth, and air.
    Will you come to our new guest?
    Will you make her our sister?”
    Margot looked around, unsure of what was going to happen next and worried she would be a huge disappointment for the witches. For all of her life, Margot had been utterly normal. Her only talents were being silver-tongued, quick on her feet, and lightning swift with her hands. But those were skills brought on out of necessity to stay three steps ahead of her mother and to keep her brother out of trouble. Would the chanting change her? Would she sprout branches like the Witch of the Woods? Or tentacles and fins like the River Witch? Would she breathe fire like the Fire Witch? Or worse yet, would nothing happen? Nothing at all?
    â€œWe call on you fire, earth, air, and water.
    Will you come to me?”
    Margot felt silly saying the words out loud. But she found that she wanted the magic to come—and when nothing stirred, she felt a crush of disappointment. Asking for something was the surest way of knowing whether you wanted it or not. And she wanted it.
    She could see the Witch of the Woods’s leaves rustling. She could tell that the witch had grown impatient.
    Margot closed her eyes and focused. She did what Ora told her to do. She went to the saddest place she could think of in her mind. Her mother had given her a wealth of bruises to choose from, but it was the parting from her brother just yesterday that she called upon.
    Suddenly, she felt warm from the inside out, from her extremities to her core. Her hands began to burn. She lifted her hands in front of her and turned them over so that her palms were facing up. The air quivered between them and a flame appeared over each palm. Then, just as quickly, the flames went out.
    She looked around at the faces of the other girls to see if they saw what she had seen. Ora was smiling. The Witch of the Woods and the Fire Witch nodded at each other.
    â€œI have the gift?” Margot asked, looking around the semicircle.
    â€œYou show promise. Tomorrow we begin again,” the Witch of the Woods said.
    But Margot was barely listening. What she had felt in the glow of that flame was comparable only to the warmth she felt with her little brother’s arms around her neck. It filled her with a sense of well-being and hope and power—a sense that nothing could hurt her and