Page 43 of Extraordinary Quests for Amateur Witches

The next morning, Kieran woke to the ship landing in Yarrowport, one of the largest cities in Celdwyn’s northwest region.

As he went down to breakfast, all he could think of was last night.

Images of Sebastian’s fangs flickered through his mind, along with the rush he’d felt after they were in his neck.

But also, the look on Sebastian’s face as he asked what it would mean if his curse was something he’d brought upon himself.

Every piece of the experience had felt intimate in a way Kieran hadn’t anticipated, and he couldn’t claim to have disliked it.

Kieran wondered how far he could push Sebastian to open up.

It wasn’t that Kieran was simply nosy. He just really, genuinely wanted to know more about Sebastian.

Even the tiniest details, the briefest childhood stories, the quickest glimpses into his mind were suddenly things Kieran found himself yearning to hear about.

Really, he’d listen to Sebastian read his shopping list over and over if it meant simply getting to hear his voice.

Which was, perhaps, not a great sign, if he was being honest with himself. They were just friends. Friends who kissed a lot, sure, but just friends.

Maybe I’m getting in over my head here, he thought, letting out a heavy sigh on his way down the stairs to get breakfast.

After they’d eaten, everyone prepared to go on their individual errands.

Kieran told Seaweed to stay on the ship, despite her squeaks of dismay.

He feared she was simply too conspicuous to bring along.

Instead, he told her to guard the ship in case any more intruders arrived.

She hissed a bit at that but didn’t try to follow as he headed for the gangway.

Yarrowport grew out of the lowlands surrounding the Gell River, the skyscrapers limited to a small cluster that made it look like the smaller stepsister of Gellingham.

While Ariel and Santiago set out for supplies, Kieran, Sebastian, Delilah, and Briar elected to head to the shopping district to find clothes for the Iceweave Coven’s winter solstice celebration.

While Briar and Delilah went off into a store where Delilah could look at dresses, Kieran and Sebastian went to a different one featuring an array of colorful men’s formalwear.

“Is this too much?” Kieran asked Sebastian as they thumbed through the racks. He held up a long dark-blue coat with embellishments in emerald, sapphire, and topaz beads that looked like peacock feathers. It was the kind of thing Ash would have laughed at him for considering, calling it too garish.

Sebastian didn’t even blink. “For the Iceweave Coven? Definitely not. Plus, that color suits you.”

Kieran beamed. “Really?”

“Mm-hmm. Although”—Sebastian reached out and turned the price tag to face Kieran—“it might be a bit outside our budget.”

Kieran’s eyes widened. It certainly was. He might be able to afford it…if he skipped a month’s rent. Before he could respond, however, an anguished cry interrupted them.

“Damn it,” a masculine voice cried, “this is all wrong! Perdita’s going to kill me.”

“Only if the customer doesn’t first,” another voice responded. “Isn’t that the jacket for his wedding?”

Kieran and Sebastian turned to find two employees examining a suit jacket that appeared to have been tailored by a drunk person wearing a blindfold.

Even on the hanger, it was obvious that the sewing was haphazard, fabric bunched in some places and stretched to the point of nearly ripping in others.

The jacket appeared to be vintage, with silvery embroidery in the lapels and sleeves that looked like leaves.

“Hmm,” Sebastian said. “That’s one way to kill the excitement for your wedding day.”

“No!” said the more flustered of the employees—a dark-skinned man wearing fine leather shoes—as he opened the jacket to look at the inside. “There’s an iron burn mark! I told the tailor not to use an iron on fabric this delicate!”

“Unless you know how to turn back time,” said the other employee, a redhead with freckles splashed across his nose, “we’re in deep shit.”

At that, Kieran straightened. Was this issue any of his business? No. But could he help? Possibly. He couldn’t turn back time, by any means—he had no idea if any witch was capable of that kind of magic—but he might be able to try something else.

Mind made up, Kieran set down the jacket he’d been looking at and closed the distance between himself and the employees. Sebastian cocked an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, hanging back instead. It occurred to Kieran that Sebastian wasn’t the type to speak to strangers unless he absolutely had to.

Kieran, however, was the complete opposite.

“Afternoon, gentlemen.” Kieran raised a hand to wave. “I couldn’t help but overhear that you’re having a bit of an issue over here. I think I might be able to help.”

“Are you a tailor?” the redhead asked. “Specifically, one who knows how to work with this fabric? It’s some rare blend from Fenshi, and our guys already damaged it. Just taking out the seams is gonna tear it like tissue paper.”

“Not a tailor, unfortunately,” Kieran clarified. He reached into his pocket and withdrew his journal, flipping it to a new page. “I’m a witch. And I might be able to write you a spell to help, if you’re interested.”

“Really?” The man with the leather shoes brightened. “How much will it cost?”

“Nothing. I’m still an apprentice—haven’t passed my Calling yet. I couldn’t charge you for it even if I wanted to.” Kieran pointed back toward where Sebastian stood. “But I wouldn’t say no to a discount on the peacock jacket.”

Leather Shoes choked on a scoff. “A discount? Hell, I’ll give it to you if you can actually fix this thing.”

“Adam, are you sure this is a good idea?” the redhead asked.

The more stressed employee—Adam—widened his eyes. “You have a better plan? Because I don’t know about you, but I really don’t want to lose my job.”

The redhead pursed his lips, then sighed. He held the jacket out to Kieran.

“Go for it. But please just…don’t make it any worse.”

Kieran smiled as he took it. “Not sure I could if I wanted to.”

While the shop employees exchanged looks, Kieran set the jacket down on a side table and began to write.

He described the garment, from the silver threads to the crystal buttons, envisioning what it would look like in perfect condition.

He described how the fabric’s glossy texture would reflect light, and how it would slide perfectly over the groom’s shoulders on his wedding day.

He wrote of how it would look just as brilliant as the day it was first sewn, gleaming and crisp and fitting as if it had been made specifically for the owner.

All the while, his hands glowed silver, the pen sparking faintly as he scratched the words onto the page.

And when he was done, he read the passage aloud, folded the paper into the shape of a pocket square, and tucked it in the jacket’s breast pocket.

For a tense second, the two employees peeked over Kieran’s shoulders, eyes rounded.

At first, nothing happened. Kieran’s stomach twisted.

Then, though, silvery light began to glow from the pocket.

In the space between breaths, it began to glow so brightly that Kieran and the others averted their eyes, hands held up to block out the light.

When they looked back, they found the jacket lying before them, looking glossy and bright, as if it had been made that very day.

Kieran’s heart swelled.

“He did it!” Adam cried. He threw his hands in the air, then pulled the other employee into a tight hug. “We’re not getting fired! Oh, this is a miracle.”

The other employee, though, looked less convinced.

He pulled a measuring tape from his pocket and laid it down on the jacket.

His lips moved as he silently said the measurements to himself, cross-checking them with a tag that hung off the hanger.

As he did, his eyes grew wider and wider, mouth hanging open.

“It’s…exactly right!” His face jerked up to meet Kieran’s gaze. “You did it. I—I can’t believe it!”

Kieran didn’t even realize how big his smile was until his cheeks began to ache.

He’d done it. No fumbles, no mistakes—just a perfectly executed spell.

Sure, he’d offered partly to get the jacket, but most of him had simply wanted to give it a shot.

He’d never been able to casually help a stranger with his magic before.

It was so simple, and yet Kieran felt that he could do anything in that moment.

Suddenly, a realization hit him: I don’t want to lose my magic.

It was such a simple thought that it didn’t strike him as big at first. Then, like a crashing wave, it swallowed him all at once.

He wanted to use magic. To be a true witch.

At the beginning of this journey, he hadn’t cared if his magic was taken away.

It had felt more like a burden than a gift—proof that he was as weak and unskilled as his father always said.

Now that he had a handle—no matter how basic—on it, it felt strange to consider a life withoutit.

Before he could fully process the thought, the employees had pulled Kieran into a hug. He stood, nonplussed, before gently patting their backs as they showered him with praise. He craned his neck to look over his shoulder and saw Sebastian biting back a laugh.

“The peacock jacket is all yours,” Adam said. “And anything else, if you want it. We cannot thank you enough.”

“Anything, huh?” Kieran called to Sebastian, “We’re in luck.”

The sight of Sebastian’s smile was enough to make Kieran feel as if he’d cast a thousand perfect spells at once.

Maybe I’m not such a bad witch after all.