Page 43 of A Spell for Midwinter’s Heart

The hushed voices wound their way up the stairs and through her bedroom door, which had been left slightly ajar.

The panic attack had subsided, but she was stuck in the nervous system hangover that had followed, curled up on her bed with her onetime comfort object, a one-eyed stuffed raccoon named Hooch, tucked under her arm.

She could no longer ignore the signs. When they had gotten home, Joe Midwinter had been chasing a bird around the living room with a broom—another ill omen.

It finally bolted through the door as she walked in, slamming into her chest and falling to the ground.

She’d stared at it, mouth agape and horrified, as her mother ushered her upstairs.

Her father appeared in her bedroom door with a hot cup of tea. “Hot cup, look out,” he said, pretending to juggle it before settling it on her bedside table.

She managed a weak smile. “Thanks. Can you send Mom up?”

His brows knit. “Not Gavin? He’s downstairs. Worried sick.”

She closed her eyes and bit her lip. “In a minute, but Mom first.”

Liliana appeared in the doorway moments later. She drifted over to settle at Rowan’s side, rubbing her daughter’s temples like she had when Rowan was sick as a kid.

“He knows,” said Rowan.

“Oh?” asked Liliana. “You two finally talked about it?”

“No…” said Rowan, closing her eyes. “I cast a spell. On everyone. He felt it. Um, everyone felt it. The Goshen Group was there, Mom. They stole our idea. Mr. McCreery wouldn’t listen to anything Gavin or I tried to say, and then Gavin—he just gave up.

” The phrase was bitter on her tongue. “So I made them listen.”

As she finished the story, Rowan tensed, waiting for her mother’s recrimination to arrive. To her great surprise, Liliana laughed. “Well, it’s about time someone did that.”

Rowan blinked. “You don’t think I violated the Rede in some horrible way?”

Her mother tsked. “Taking corporate raiders to task? No. No, I don’t. You were karma in action, honey. I never meant for you to end up torturing yourself over something like this. Something that’s so clearly sooth justice.”

“ Sooth justice, Mom? Really?”

“You know, like ‘street justice,’ but for us?”

“The explanation doesn’t make it better.”

Liliana studied her with soft eyes. “Was casting that spell what triggered the panic attack?”

“No, what I did was justified, I know. It was about…” She swallowed. “Well, I don’t know what exactly, but it has something to do with whatever I made myself forget eight years ago. I need my memories back. I don’t think I can move on without them.”

At that moment, Rowan’s spell chest popped open. A red envelope sat at the top. Her name was written on the front in her grandmother’s familiar scrawling handwriting.

Liliana crossed and looked down. With a sigh, she said, “ A Spell to Stay Missing until Found. Oh, Mom.”

“What?” asked Rowan, crossing to look down at the envelope.

“It keeps something hidden from you until you’re ready for it.

One of Mom’s favorite tricks.” Liliana’s brow creased, remembering.

“Six months before she died, she became obsessed with something. Whatever it was, she wouldn’t tell me, but she pored over every book she could find.

I’m guessing whatever’s inside…That was it. ”

Rowan leaned down and picked up the envelope, tearing open the flap to reveal the card inside. On one page was a set of instructions for a spell, and on the other, a letter. Unaddressed, unsigned, but it didn’t need to be.

She read her grandmother’s final message.

My dear—

I should never have put you in the position I did.

I’m sorry. Tell your mother I’m sorry too.

I hope you can forgive me, but more,

I hope you can forgive yourself.

Until we meet again, my love.

Wordless, Rowan passed the note to her mother. Liliana scanned the sheet, and her eyes went red and wet, and she gasped, knuckle to mouth. Rowan put a hand on her forearm.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…”

“An apology from Madeleine Midwinter.”

“I never thought I’d see the day.” Liliana dried her eyes with the back of her shirt and nodded toward the second sheet of paper. “Go on. Take a look.”

The answer was plain as day—a careful deconstruction of the original. She would break the stave, cut the cord, and snuff the candle. It must have driven her grandmother mad to realize it was so simple.

Pressing the paper to her chest, she whispered, “Thank you, Grandma,” and immediately set about putting the components on her altar, fingers trembling in anticipation of what was coming.

Her mother hovered. “Do you want me to go?”

Rowan considered it for a moment but shook her head. “No—I don’t want to be alone for this.”

“Then I’ll stay.”

They grounded together, raised power together, cast a protective circle together, but when it was time to say the words, the task was Rowan’s alone.

She set the page containing the forgetting spell into a brazier at the center of the altar and let it burn as she began to chant.

What was done, now undo,

Bring everything back that was true,

By the power of three by three…

Rowan hesitated, understanding that when she closed the spell, nothing would ever be the same again: the burden of every action of significance.

As I do will it, so mote it be.