Page 2 of Hex Appeal (Grimm Mawr #5)

C eries's hair flashed panic purple as she upended her third dresser drawer. The charm bracelet had to be here somewhere. Seven years of protective spells, good luck charms, and one particularly feisty shield charm that liked to pick fights with aggressive magic—all gone.

"Have you checked under the bed?" her mirror suggested helpfully. "Or maybe someone else's bed?"

"Not. Helping." Ceries slammed the drawer shut and dove for her purse, which skittered sideways like a startled cat. It had developed attitude problems ever since she'd enchanted it to be bigger on the inside.

"I'm just saying," the mirror continued, "your purse told me he was cute. And organized. Do you know how rare that combination is? Like finding a unicorn that does taxes."

"Can we please not discuss last night?" Ceries yanked open another drawer, disturbing a family of dust bunnies that had evolved their own tiny civilization.

"But his tie, Ceries. The purse said it stayed perfectly straight even when—"

"We are not discussing his tie!" Her hair shifted to mortified magenta.

Her enchanted planner chose that moment to clear its throat loudly from the desk. "Forty-seven minutes until your first day at your new teaching position," it announced with the prissy disapproval of a chaperone who'd caught students sneaking out after curfew. "Which you'll be late for if you don't stop ransacking your apartment like a deranged raccoon on caffeine."

"I can't go without my bracelet." Ceries upended a potted plant. No bracelet, but the plant looked offended. "It's my lucky charm."

"Oh, now you're worried about luck?" The mirror's tone could have frosted glass. "Was that before or after you demonstrated advanced shield charms on his pillow?"

"That was different. I was making an educational point."

"Is that what they're calling it now? Because purse said—"

Ceries threw a sock at the mirror, which deflected it with a prissy little shimmer. The sock executed a perfect dive into her coffee cup, creating a tiny splash that somehow managed to look judgmental.

Most magical items developed personalities over time, absorbing ambient magic and their owners' emotions. But Ceries had always had particularly expressive accessories. Her mother claimed it was because she 'felt too much.' Whatever the reason, her possessions seemed determined to broadcast her feelings when she least wanted them known.

She supposed she could just pop back to Mal's apartment. Ten minutes, tops. Except... she was fuzzy on where his place actually was, having staggered there in a cherry bomb-induced haze of attraction and magical theory debates. Last night's teleportation home had been fueled by equal parts embarrassment and lingering tingles.

"Professional witches don't do the walk of shame," she told her reflection firmly. "Especially not on their first day at a new job."

"If you say so," the mirror said doubtfully. "But your hair is still the color of questionable life choices and morning regrets."

"I don't regret anything," she muttered, then immediately regretted saying it as her hair betrayed her with a dreamy rose-gold shimmer.

No. She was absolutely not thinking about last night. Or Mal's perfectly pressed shirt crumpled on the floor. Or how his impeccably straight tie had ended up hanging from a lampshade. Or the way he'd whispered magical theory into her ear like sweet nothings while his hands—

Nope. Professional thoughts only.

Her reflection smirked knowingly.

Forty-three minutes later, Ceries stood before the gates of Grimm Mawr Academy. Her hair had settled into a relatively professional shade of auburn, though occasional streaks of nervous lavender kept sneaking through like rebellious teenagers testing curfew.

The school was imposing in that way only magical institutions could manage—Gothic architecture with a hint of "we could turn you into something unpleasant if provoked." Gargoyles peered down from the roof, not decorative but actual sentient guardians who appeared to be judging her outfit.

"Ms. Frostwind?"

Ceries spun around, nearly colliding with a witch in practical green robes. The woman's shrewd eyes took in Ceries's color-shifting hair with the analytical precision of someone diagnosing an interesting rash.

"I'm Diana Maelstrom, the school nurse." Her handshake was firm, professional, and warm enough to be reassuring. "Welcome to Grimm Mawr. I have to say, we were all quite surprised when Trustee Thorncraft hired you so quickly."

"Surprised?" Ceries's hair added a streak of uncertainty gray.

"Oh yes. Usually the principal handles all teaching appointments personally. But with him away at that conference..." Diana's tone suggested volumes of internal politics and staff room gossip. "Well, I'm sure it will all work out. Headmistress Raven approved it, after all, though she did seem... intrigued by Thorncraft's insistence."

Diana's eyes sparkled with curiosity as she led Ceries through corridors that seemed designed by someone who'd taken "maze" as an architectural challenge rather than a warning.

"The assembly hall is just through here. I'm supposed to escort you to the faculty section. The other teachers are eager to meet you."

Ceries tried to concentrate on Diana's tour, but her mind kept wandering back to her missing bracelet. And the man she'd left it with. And the fact that she'd spent half the night arguing magical theory between kisses, demonstrating shield charms in increasingly creative ways, and now she'd probably never see him again because that's just how her luck went.

The assembly hall was already crowded with students in black and silver robes. Some looked bright-eyed and eager; others had the glazed expression of teenagers who'd been forced to wake up before noon. Diana steered her toward the faculty section, making introductions that Ceries immediately forgot because her brain had apparently decided to replay highlights from last night instead of processing new information.

"Good morning, everyone." The tall wizard with steel-gray hair and an expensive suit who had interviewed her took the podium. "I'm Trustee Thorncraft, and I'm delighted to welcome you all to another year at Grimm Mawr Academy. We have several new faces to introduce, but first..."

Something caught Ceries's eye. Something silver, glinting at the end of a watch chain. Something that looked exactly like...

No.

No no no.

Her eyes followed the watch chain up to an impeccably tailored suit. Up past a perfectly straight tie. Up to a face she'd last seen smiling at her across a pillow while arguing about the proper age to teach shield charms.

Mal.

Except he wasn't Mal anymore. He was standing at the front of the hall, every inch the distinguished educator she'd teased him about being. His name definitely wasn't just "Mal" because Trustee Thorncraft was saying—

"And of course, welcome back Principal Starcatcher from the International Conference on Magical Safety Standards, where he successfully secured funding for enhanced protection wards."

The words faded into a buzzing white noise as Ceries's soul attempted to leave her body. Principal. Principal Starcatcher. She'd spent last night telling the principal of her new school that his educational theories were outdated. She'd kissed the principal of her new school while calling him a stuffy traditionalist.

She'd done much, much more with the principal of her new school, involving creative applications of shield charms that definitely weren't in any educational manual.

Her hair cycled rapidly through every shade of oh-no in existence, finally settling on a color that could only be described as "apocalyptic embarrassment."

Their eyes met across the hall. His perfect composure cracked for just a moment, a widening of those green eyes she'd stared into while debating protective enchantments. Then his professional mask slammed back into place, though she noticed his hand tightening on his watch chain.

His watch chain. With her charm bracelet tangled around it like a silver promise neither of them had intended to make.

"And finally," Thorncraft's voice cut through her panic like a chainsaw through butter, "I'm thrilled to introduce our innovative new Hexes and Curses instructor, Ms. Ceries Frostwind."

Somehow Ceries found herself standing as scattered applause filled the hall. She managed a weak smile before sinking back into her seat, praying for a conveniently timed sinkhole to open beneath her. Or perhaps a sudden outbreak of amnesia. Or possibly just spontaneous combustion.

It figured. The one time she let her hair down and got freaky with a sexy wizard at a bar, he had to turn out to be her boss. Not just any boss—the notoriously strict, rule-following, safety-obsessed principal who was now staring at her with an expression that suggested he was experiencing the same internal meltdown but with better hair control.

Principal Starcatcher—Mal—Principal Oh-gods-what-had-she-done Starcatcher was now addressing the students about safety protocols. His voice was exactly as she remembered from last night, that precise tone that had made her want to ruffle his perfect control. Had made her want to...

Her hair turned the exact color of last night's cherry bombs, broadcasting her thoughts to anyone with functioning eyeballs.

She forced herself to look at her notes. Her quill, sensing her distraction, had taken creative liberties. Instead of the prepared introduction she'd written, it had composed what appeared to be a love sonnet comparing someone's organizational skills to a perfectly cataloged spellbook, with increasingly suggestive metaphors about "proper shelving techniques." She crumpled the parchment before anyone could see it.

"And now," Mal—Principal Starcatcher—she had to think of him as Principal Starcatcher or she was going to get fired before she even started teaching—was saying, "let's review the updated safety protocols for practical magic classes."

Ceries tried to focus. She really did. But every time she looked at him, another memory ambushed her:

"I bet you've never cast a spell without filing it in triplicate first."

"My socks are none of your business."

"That's different. Swimming won't accidentally turn someone into a toad."

"What's wrong with a little recreational amphibian transformation between consenting adults?"

No. Professional thoughts only. She was a serious educator who absolutely had not spent last night thoroughly debating magical theory with her new boss. Among other things. Very thorough other things that she was not thinking about at all.

"Ms. Frostwind?"

She jumped, nearly hexing Diana in surprise. The assembly had apparently ended while she'd been having her crisis.

"Sorry, what?"

"I said, are you ready for the new teacher orientation? Principal Starcatcher usually conducts it personally." Diana's expression was innocent, but her eyes twinkled with something that suggested she hadn't missed the electric tension between Ceries and the principal.

Of course he did. Because the universe hadn't finished laughing at her yet.

Her charm bracelet was definitely intertwining with his watch chain now, sending up tiny silver sparkles that drew several curious looks from nearby faculty. Principal Starcatcher absently covered the display with one hand, a gesture that made her remember exactly how those hands had felt elsewhere.

Professional thoughts. Professional, serious, not-at-all-inappropriate thoughts.

Her hair turned the color of complete professional disaster.

"Interesting shade," Diana commented as they filed out of the assembly hall. "I don't think I've ever seen quite that combination of catastrophe crimson and mortification mauve before. It's almost artistic."

"I'm simply excited to start teaching," Ceries said with as much dignity as someone whose hair was broadcasting her emotional state in technicolor could manage.

"Mm-hmm." Diana's knowing look could have won awards for eloquent skepticism. "Well, this should be an interesting year."

"'So Headmistress Raven handles the board and external affairs while Principal Starcatcher manages day-to-day operations?' Ceries asked, trying to understand the power structure.

“Precisely,” Diana nodded. 'Though Raven has final say on all matters. She's been investigating something lately—keeps disappearing for days at a time. Very mysterious.'"

Behind them, Thorncraft was saying something to Principal Starcatcher about "implementing progressive teaching methods" and "shaking up the old guard." Trustee Thorncraft had seemed deeply invested in her teaching methods during the interview, asking specific questions about her approach to protective hexes. At the time, she'd taken it as genuine academic interest. Now she wondered if he'd been looking for someone to shake things up—or cause trouble. Ceries didn't dare look back, but she could practically feel the tension radiating from her new boss.

Her boss. Who she'd kissed senseless less than twelve hours ago. Who currently had possession of her favorite magical accessory.

Professional witches didn't do the walk of shame. But apparently, they did speed-walk away from their new boss while their hair broadcast their panic to the entire faculty.

Well. At least the year couldn't get any more awkward than this.

"Diana, can you escort Professor Frostwind to my office? I'll be there momentarily."

The universe, it seemed, enjoyed a good challenge. After refusing Diana's offer for coffee (her nerves were already performing an elaborate gymnastics routine without caffeine), Ceries sat in a comfortable leather chair to await her doom. She counted the inkwells on Principal Starcatcher's desk for the third time. Fourteen. Arranged by size, shade, and (she'd bet her missing favorite spellbook) alphabetically by ink manufacturer.

The man was even more organized than she'd teased him about being. Which was saying something, considering she'd spent a good portion of last night making increasingly creative jokes about his methodical nature, right up until he'd proven that precision and attention to detail had some very compelling applications in contexts that were absolutely inappropriate to remember in his office.

Taking a deep breath, she strove for inner peace. She was here for her new teacher orientation. They could both be adults about this. They could pretend last night never happened. They could maintain professional boundaries.

Her hair didn't believe this for a second, shifting traitorously to a shade she'd never seen before—something between wistful remembrance and hopeful anticipation.

She really needed this job. After being asked to leave Pendragon Academy for 'excessive creative interpretation of the curriculum' and flat-out fired from Frog’s Hollow High School for 'endangering students with unauthorized defensive techniques' (which had actually saved a student from a rogue troll), Grimm Mawr was possibly her last chance at a respectable teaching position.

Hexes were unpredictable.

But they were her specialty.

The door opened. Ceries's hair cycled through three different shades of panic before settling on a desperate attempt at professional auburn.

"Well, this was a surprise." Principal Starcatcher strode in, all crisp lines and perfect posture. No hint that less than twenty-four hours ago he'd been kissing her senseless while debating the merits of practical versus theoretical magical education.

"For me too." She was proud of how steady her voice stayed, even as her hair betrayed her with a flash of remembrance pink.

"I believe this belongs to you."

They both stared at the bracelet, which had thoroughly entangled itself with his watch chain in a way that looked suspiciously deliberate.

"It's usually better behaved," Ceries said, though this was a blatant lie. Her magical accessories had always had a flair for the dramatic.

He attempted to detach it. The bracelet tightened its grip on his watch chain like a silver octopus that had found its true love. "Perhaps if you..."

She reached for it. Their fingers brushed. Magic sparked between them—literally, as the charm bracelet celebrated their joint touch by shooting silver fireworks toward the ceiling. Several of his perfectly arranged papers ruffled in response, reorganizing themselves into what looked suspiciously like a heart.

"Sorry." Ceries snatched her hand back.

One of his eyebrows arched. That eyebrow. The one that had driven her crazy at the pub with its judgmental perfection. Her hair betrayed her by turning the exact shade of how much she'd wanted to kiss that look off his face last night (and succeeded, repeatedly).

"Shall we try again?" he suggested, his professional tone slightly strained. "Together?"

Oh, that was not helping her hair situation at all.

They reached for the tangled chains simultaneously. This time when their fingers met, the bracelet practically purred, detaching from his watch chain with a happy little chime that sounded suspiciously like the first few notes of a wedding march.

"Thank you." Ceries clutched the bracelet, trying to ignore how it was still sending appreciative sparkles in his direction. "Should we start the orientation?"

"Yes. Of course." He moved behind his desk, putting blessed distance between them. His voice shifted into Principal Mode as he went over the bell schedule and rotating hall and cafeteria duties. "This afternoon all the teachers will share their curriculum in case there are questions from students once the semester starts. Speaking of that, I'd like to go over the school's philosophy on defensive magic instruction."

Her spine straightened. This was what she'd been hired for—to modernize their approach to protective spells. She'd prepared extensive research on why students needed practical experience with defensive magic, not just theory.

"I've actually developed several proposals for enhancing the defensive curriculum," she said, her enthusiasm momentarily overriding her awkwardness.

"I remember."

The words hung between them, loaded with unspoken meaning. How much he remembered exactly was an open question, given the amount of cherry bombs involved, but the slight flush at his collar suggested it was quite a bit.

"Right," she sighed.

"We maintain very strict safety protocols here," he said, that perfect eyebrow arching again. "Any changes to the defensive magic curriculum require extensive review."

"Of course. But students need real-world applications, not just theoretical knowledge. Especially with defensive magic."

"Theory provides essential foundations—"

"Theory won't help them in an actual dangerous situation," she interrupted, then bit her lip. This was exactly how their debate had started at the pub.

His tie tightened slightly, as if remembering how that debate had ended. "While I appreciate your enthusiasm, we have these protocols for a reason."

"Because that's how it's always been done?" The words slipped out before she could stop them.

"Because safety comes first." His voice had that same passionate intensity she remembered from last night, minus the cherry bomb influence. "We cannot risk—"

A knock interrupted them. Diana poked her head in, eyebrows rising at the magical tension crackling between them. The air practically hummed with it.

"Sorry to interrupt, but Mr. Thorncraft wanted to remind you that he'll be bringing some guests to tour the school."

"Of course he is," Mal sighed.

Ceries looked at him curiously, but he didn't elaborate. After Diana closed the door, he stood from his desk.

"I have some things to take care of. Diana can give you a tour of the school and show you to your classroom. You can decorate it as you wish."

"Thank you," she said, standing.

"I'm open to discussing your ideas further," he said formally. "Though I should warn you, this school has very firm policies about certain controversial spells."

"Good thing I have thoroughly documented research then."

"I'm sure you do." His mouth quirked slightly. "You were very thorough in presenting your arguments last night."

Professional. She was a professional educator with innovative ideas about defensive magic. She absolutely was not thinking about how passionate he got when debating magical theory. Or how that passion translated to other activities.

"I'm looking forward to working with you," she managed, heading for the door before her hair could betray any more memories.

"Ms. Frostwind?" His voice stopped her. "About last night's... theoretical discussions..."

"We'll keep it purely academic from now on," she said quickly.

"Of course." But there was a warmth in his eyes that made her toes curl in remembrance.

As she left his office, Ceries realized she absolutely had to stop thinking about how incredibly attractive he was when arguing about magical education.

Her hair, turning the exact shade of cherry bombs and midnight kisses, suggested this would be easier said than done.