Page 6 of Magic & Matchmaking (Moonflower Witches)

Chapter Five

EMMA

S teeped in Love was packed. Customers filled the space while trays floated above, landing on tables and serving tea of all varieties.

Smoke curled into the air from tea cups, all different colors depending on the flavor of tea.

The afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows in the back, filling the shop with a golden hue.

“You know, I can do more than just light a fire,” Herman said from the back counter, where he blew fire under kettles sitting on iron grates, the water boiling. “Besides, you know the kettles heat themselves.”

“But doesn’t it feel nice to be useful?” I asked, bustling to fill individual tins with leaf combinations from orders placed.

I sprinkled green tea leaves into one tin, followed by dried blueberry, dried lavender, and curls of lemon peel. In another tin, I combined hibiscus flowers with dried cherry, cranberry, and cinnamon. It smelled like cherry pie. I’d have to try that combination at some point.

Layla, Morty’s niece, moved with ease from to table to table, taking orders and providing more hot water if needed.

I continued to put the trays together. I swiped an arm over my brow, damp with sweat.

I’d been running the shop for two weeks now, and despite news of Morty’s retirement spreading, the shop still remained busy.

Morty had handed over her grimoire with all her tea spells.

It was all incredibly useful. She also left a new grimoire, one for me to write my own spells.

I hadn’t done so yet. I hadn’t had time to even think about writing new spells.

“Emma!” I jolted, looking up over the bar top at Layla.

She flipped her black hair over her shoulder, giving me a timid smile. The young girl, maybe only twenty or twenty-one, was nothing like her aunt. She was shy, soft-spoken, unsure of herself. She twisted her hands together. “You wanted me to tell you when it was midday?”

I jumped. “Yes, thank you.” I came around the counter while Herman harrumphed behind me, muttering something about wasting his talents on this place.

Layla met me at the end of the counter, the door only a few feet from us.

“Will you be able to handle things while I’m gone?

I’ll just be a few moments.” I needed to pop across the street and visit the Arcane Creatures Emporium to check on my father.

Make sure he’d taken his medicine today.

I bit my lip, wondering if I’d even put it out for him this morning like I meant to.

“Yes, of course.” Layla’s green eyes brightened. “I’ve been thinking about a few things for the shop...”

I glanced out the window at my father’s shop across the street. The glare of the sun bounced off the windows, blocking any view I had of the inside.

The chime over the door tinkled as it swung open, a hooded figure coming inside, distracting me.

I couldn’t see his or her face, but they were large, wearing leather brown boots, brown trousers tucked into them.

My gaze trailed up the stranger’s body to their soft green tunic with long sleeves, a brown vest buttoned over it and hanging down to their thighs.

The stranger marched up to me, and I took a few steps backward until my back pressed into the counter.

I arched my neck to look up at whoever this was and gasped as Riven Shiu pressed a finger to his lips.

I threw my arms around his neck, and he wrapped me in a tight hug, lifting me off my feet and whirling me around before he set me down.

“Riven,” I said, and he pressed a finger to my lips, a tingle shooting through them at the contact.

Oh, right. Riven was kind of famous. Incredibly famous, actually. He’d spent the last ten years building an amazing career in the Witchlands as a bard.

Layla squeaked, her already big eyes going wide as she recognized the figure under the hood. I shook my head, and she mimed tying her lips.

“He doesn’t want any attention,” I whispered.

“Is there somewhere private we can go?” Riven asked quietly.

I gripped his arm. “I know just the spot.”

I sent Layla a questioning look.

“I’ll take over.” She shooed me away. “You go.”

I grabbed Riven’s hand and led him through the shop.

We wove past tables full of patrons chatting over tea and macarons from the local bakery.

A shelf jutted out in the back, and behind it sat a cozy little alcove, completely hidden from view.

I liked to come here after a long shift and sit on the cushioned seat while gazing out the window at Thistlegrove.

The back of the shop had the perfect view of Shrubble River, the rushing water glinting under the sun, bubbling over colorful stones.

I sat on the U-shaped bench and inched my way toward the window, Riven following until we’d both settled. He pushed off his hood, then undid the clasp of his cloak.

The sun haloed his thick black hair, parted to the side, styled immaculately with not a strand out of place.

The light glowed against his golden-brown skin, and he smiled, dimples pecking his cheeks.

There was a reason half the witches of the Witchlands were in love with Riven Shiu.

Both his voice and his face were perfection.

Not that I cared about either of those things.

I knew him long before he could sing, long before he turned into the sensation that he was .

His angular eyes crinkled, and I cleared my throat, leaning forward. “So where has the famous bard been to in the last year since I’ve seen you?”

He shook his head. “Oh no. I’m not the one who has interesting updates.” He gave me a pointed look. “I arrived at Arcane Creatures Emporium, ready to see you, when I glanced across the street and saw you through the window. A tea shop? You now own a tea shop?”

I shifted, tucking a leg under me. “Ah, yes. I’m quite the tea connoisseur.”

He laughed. “I never knew you wanted to own a tea shop. When we were growing up, all you talked about was seeing the world. The wonders that awaited you.”

“That was a long time ago, Riven.” Yes, I’d had silly dreams of traveling the realm when I was younger, but then I grew up and reality hit.

My mother died, and I needed to be there for my father.

Technically, he wasn’t my biological father.

The man that held that title abandoned us shortly after my mother became pregnant.

Then she had me, and a few years later, met my stepfather.

He treated me like his own daughter from the first day we’d met.

After Mama died when I was young, he took me in, raised me.

After everything he did for me, I owed him this.

I took care of him like he always had me, made him take his medicine, made him eat healthy meals.

I organized everything in his shop, put systems in place to so things ran smoothly.

I couldn’t up and leave. I’d already done that once, and it ended in disaster.

Plus, who just traveled for a living? I had to support myself. I had to do something with my life. And here I was, finally doing it.

“So how are you?” I placed a hand on his leg, then quickly took it back, cheeks heating. “How was your latest tour?” I said quickly.

“It was great.” He leaned a shoulder against the back of the bench. “Everyone’s responded so well to my music. I can’t believe all this is happening. It feels surreal sometimes.”

“Do you ever miss home?” I asked, not posing the real question lingering on the tip of my tongue. Do you ever miss me?

He smiled, those dimples showing again. “Let’s see.” He ticked off his fingers. “I’ve definitely missed the macarons at the bakery. I’ve missed walks along the river. I’ve missed old man Veldar yelling at everyone to stay off his property.”

That brought a smile to my face. We’d been mischievous as children, often running around Veldar’s tree house as he sat up above us on his porch, shaking his wand and threatening to turn us to bugs if we didn’t knock it off. He was well over a hundred years old and still at it.

“You know it’s amazing he’s still alive.” Riven’s face grew thoughtful. “And doesn’t seem to age.”

“I know.” I gasped. “Do you think he uses anti-aging potions?”

“With those eye bags?” Riven cocked a brow.

“I don’t think so.” He lifted his hand, three fingers held up.

“So that’s three things I’ve missed. What else.

.. what else...” His eyes widened. “Oh, I’ve missed watching your father chase escaped creatures through the village while everyone else runs for their lives. ”

“While he tries to reassure them that they won’t get eaten,” I added.

“Naturally.” Riven cleared his throat and did his impression of my father, voice going nasally. “Stay calm, everyone. The griffin only likes to eat already dead things. So as long as you’re alive, it won’t eat you.”

I burst out laughing. It was a dead-on impression. Riven and I might’ve set a few animals loose. We were terrible children.

“Oh!” Riven held up another finger. “I also missed the frogs.”

“The frogs?” I asked drily.

He nodded, face serious. “The frogs. You know, there aren’t frogs in the bigger cities.”

“So?” I asked, wondering if I was anywhere on this list of things he missed.

“There’s something about them,” he said. “They’re so green. So slimy. I miss the slime.” His eyes had a mischievous glint, his tone light, and I shoved him.

“You’re teasing me.”

“Of course I am. That’s what I do.” The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Yes, I missed home, but I also really missed you, Emma.”

“More than the frogs?” I asked.

“Let’s not get carried away,” he said, leaning forward, so close I could feel his breath on my cheek.

I swallowed, his face inches from mine. We stared into each other’s eyes, his flecked with pops of green.

My heart pounded in my chest, everything in the world fading away when it was him and me, just like it always had.

Riven had this way of making me forget every problem, every trouble, every thing that made my heart ache.

He filled all those little cracks and holes with his light.

“Did someone order tea?” Herman appeared around the corner of the shelf, a tray balanced on the end of his pink-scaled tale.

I gaped at the tiny dragon carrying an entire tray.

My father would probably be able to rattle off every fact about the miniature dragon species, but I had no idea they had such incredible strength.

“No,” I said at the same time as Riven said,“I’d love some.”

Herman flew forward, laying down the tray with two cups, two tins of leaves, and a glowing red kettle on the table. “Layla could have just spelled the tray,” I pointed out with an arched brow.

Herman shot me a mischievous look. “Layla is busy. Besides, I thought the great Riven Shiu deserved some personalized service.”

Riven smirked.

I crossed my arms. “How do you even know who Riven is?”

Herman settled on the other side of the table across from me and Riven, his tail curling over the cushion. “Oh, I don’t know. You’re only humming and singing his music all day, everyday and mentioning him just as much. Riven this... Riven that...”

My cheeks heated as Riven gave me an assessing gaze. “Really? Do you want me to sign your arm?” His gaze dipped to my chest. “Or somewhere else on your body?”

“Oh, yes,” Herman said. “Can’t get her stop talking or singing. And every note is off-key. Can’t carry a tune to save her life.”

“Okay! That’s enough out of you,” I said with a nervous laugh.

Riven just studied me. “I didn’t know I had such an admirer, Emma Thorne.”

The way he said my name sent shivers down my spine. This entire interaction, us sitting so close, the way he was staring at me, reminded me of one particular night so long ago, a night where our friendship almost took a very different turn.

I shoved those thoughts away and straightened, moving backward toward the window.

“Well, it’s hard not to be a fan when everyone’s singing your songs.

I have them stuck in my head.” The playfulness in his eyes dimmed, and I hoped I hadn’t offended him.

“You’re very talented, and you know I love your music. ”

“Right,” he said as Herman curled his tail around the handle of the kettle—which was bigger than him—and poured us both tea, ribbons of steam curling into the air.

“This smells amazing.” He took a deep inhale of the orange blossom and cinnamon flavor.

It did. I couldn’t wait to try it.

“Thank you, Herman, that will be all,” I said, an edge to my voice. I nudged my head toward the bookshelf, hoping Herman got the hint.

He just sat there, blinking. So much for that.

Out of nowhere, a book flew off the shelf and straight toward my head. I ducked, the book thwacking into the window. A crack formed in the glass, and I groaned. Not this again.

“Emma, move!” Riven yelled before throwing his body over mine right as the window shattered.

Glass rained down over us, Riven shielding me with his hard body. Incredibly hard. Since when did bards need all these muscles? His abs felt like they were made of stone, pressed into my back, his bulging arms wrapped around mine.

“Swoon,” Herman said. “That was so brave.”

“Herman,” I yelled from under Riven.

“Oh, right! Let me clean some of the glass from your back,” he said.

After a minute of being crushed by Riven, he sat up, then grabbed me and pulled me to a seated position.

The entire interaction left me breathless, barely able to form a thought.

“What in the fuck was that?” Riven pointed to the window behind me, now nothing but jagged edges of glass.

“Oh, the tea shop hates Emma,” Herman said as his tail swept the glass on the table into a neat pile. He flapped his wings, hovering over us.

“It doesn’t hate me,” I shot back.

“What?” Riven asked with a laugh. “Hates you?”

I groaned. “It’s a long story, and it’s warming up to me. It hasn’t tried to kill me in three days.”

“Kill you?” Riven said, all the laughter suddenly gone from his voice.

I shifted under the intensity of his gaze. “It’s not a big deal. ”

“It is a big deal,” Herman said. “I was talking to your father about it the other day, actually, and?—”

I gasped. Witch Superior. I’d completely forgotten about checking on him. “My father!” I scooted around the bench and stood, facing Riven and Herman. “I’m so sorry. I have to go.”

With that, I turned and raced out of the shop.