Page 12 of Magic & Mochas (Tales of Love & Lore #1)

Chapter nine

Spells I’m sure Silas would approve.”

“I’ve no doubt,” he said drily.

Thorne moved to the fridge and pulled out a bag of fresh lettuce, shredded carrots, and several dressing options, and plopped them in front of me. He then used his shadows to pull out a cutting board, a large pot, and a multitude of ingredients for beef stew.

“Where did you learn to cook?” I asked, as we both set about preparing our ingredients.

Thorne grimaced, but his tone was light as he replied, “I’ve had to spend a lot of time traveling with groups of men—mercenaries, adventurers, and the like.

Most of them couldn’t tell the difference between an onion and an apple, and I got tired fairly quickly of subsisting off of cold jerky and hardtack. ”

I shuddered. “I can imagine, but I certainly don’t want to.”

The shadowmancer scraped his chopped vegetables into the simmering broth.

“My first few attempts at cooking were fairly disastrous; my omelets had egg shells in them, and my stews were chock-full of salt and way too much garlic. It took me longer than I care to admit to figure out that when a recipe called for a clove of garlic, it didn’t mean the entire bulb. ”

“Yikes! I hope everyone else in your party liked garlic.” I laughed as I ripped the lettuce into bite-size pieces. “Don’t feel too bad. My first few potions blew up in my face—literally!”

Thorne paused to glance over at me with concern. “They did? Were you hurt?”

“My pride took the biggest hit. Though it took my eyebrows a couple months to grow back.” I grinned at the memory.

“An eyebrow-less Clove? Now that I have to see.” He returned to slicing up the meat.

“I’m sure my mom has pictures somewhere,” I admitted, laughing a little self-consciously. “Probably in a scrapbook spelled against fire, lightning, and water.”

“Lightning?” He raised an eyebrow in my direction, and added the meat to the pot. He capped it with a lid to let it simmer.

I blushed. “Every witch goes through a lightning phase in high school. I tried to burn that embarrassing photo with a lightning strike before anyone could see it. Dramatic, I know.” I rolled my eyes at my past self.

“I would have simply put it down the garbage disposal in the sink.”

I blinked at him. “That’s brilliant! Why didn’t I ever think of that?!”

Thorne shrugged. “I’ve noticed the magically-inclined tend to overthink these things. Simple is usually best.”

“You make a good point. But why do things with your hands when you can have them done for you?” I flicked my wrist, and watched with a satisfied smile as the carrot slices floated into the salad bowl and a balsamic vinaigrette poured itself on top.

With a twirl of my finger, the salad mixed itself to perfection.

“Not bad. But can you cook the stew perfectly without burning it?” There was a light of challenge in his eyes that I had no intention of backing down from.

“Of course! I never use the microwave.” I flicked my long hair over my shoulder and held out a hand towards the pot.

My hand and the pot glowed purple as I concentrated on speeding up the cooking process, while still maintaining the appropriate temperature.

Once its savory smell filled the air, I released the spell.

Time acceleration magic was fairly advanced, but I had been determined to master it. After all, microwaved food just didn’t taste nearly as good.

“Your magic is beautiful. Unlike mine,” he murmured, almost so quietly that I missed it.

“Your darkness is beautiful, too. Like the shade beneath an oak tree in the summer, and a sky full of stars in the spring.” I brushed my hand through a wispy shadow, watching as it swirled and eddied like smoke in the breeze.

A tendril of darkness wrapped gently around my wrist for a moment, conveying silent thanks. Thorne was looking at me like I was a puzzle, one he couldn’t quite solve.

“I’m sure you will find the stew is cooked to perfection,” I said to break the silence. “I’ll set the table while you dish it up.”

Thorne blinked, as if coming out of a trance, and nodded. “Of course.”

I went ahead and set out the napkins and utensils, listening as the quiet clinking of plates filled the air.

Conjuring a few candles, I set them on the table and lit them with lively orange flames.

A pair of shadowy tendrils deposited two glasses of sparkling water on the table, and a moment later, Thorne arrived, carrying the food.

I reached to pull out a chair, but one of Thorne’s shadows beat me to it. “Why, what a gentleman. Thank you,” I told the shadow as I sat down and it scooted my chair in.

What sounded suspiciously like a concealed laugh came from the other side of the table, but when I looked, Thorne was already taking a sip of his stew. “Cooked to perfection,” he said approvingly.

I grinned. “I told you it would be.” I took a sip as well, savoring the rich flavor of the broth. Thorne had done an excellent job seasoning it. “If you’re this good at seasoning food, I have no doubt you will become a master barista in no time.”

“I’m glad you like it.” A small smile graced his lips. “I’ve found that a warm meal with the right spices can do wonders for the mood.”

“I have a feeling that just your cooking alone would have made you a valuable member of any expedition.”

“You would think.” His smile dimmed, and I kicked myself for bringing it up first; I didn’t want to force him to share his story with me. But when he remained silent, I decided that he might have an easier time opening up to me if I first shared a little about myself.

“I suppose I owe you an explanation,” I started, pushing my salad around my plate with my fork. I tried not to let my mood sink too low as my thoughts returned to the memories I had been working so hard to bury.

He frowned. “For what?”

“For what happened between me and Rasmus. Why, when he showed up, I felt the need to pretend I had a boyfriend.” I took a deep breath, determined to keep my voice steady.

Thorne reached across the table to place his hand over mine. “You don’t owe me anything, Clove. If you’re not ready…”

I shook my head. “I think talking about things like this helps release some of the hurt that’s been festering.”

Thorne’s eyes took on a melancholy cast; he understood I wasn’t just talking about myself. But he nodded all the same, his thumb moving in soothing circles on my wrist.

“I met Rasmus in college. We were the only two spellcasters in our year, so we hit it off. He was considerate back then, and I loved listening to him talk about his hopes and dreams for the future. We had so much fun coming up with new spells and potions together, in between our mundane literature and history classes,” I began wistfully.

“We both graduated with our master's degrees, and moved in together while we began our careers in Seattle.”

Thorne nodded, silently encouraging me to continue.

“But he’s from an old, affluent family, and I knew he felt immense pressure from them to be successful, and to take over the family business one day.

I knew his parents never really approved of me, and I could guess it was because I wasn’t from one of the more prestigious covens.

His mother in particular kept trying to set him up with Nyssa, a witch from her coven, who had the ‘proper’ pedigree.

” My voice started to shake as I got to the part of the story that had been featuring in my nightmares lately.

“Unfortunately, that sort of thinking is all too common in many magical communities,” Thorne commented softly. “That’s what makes Willowmere so special.”

“Exactly. And Rasmus always assured me that they’d come around eventually.

So when he proposed, I thought we had left all that behind us, that his parents had finally given us their blessing.

I foolishly believed him—until I came home early from the office one day, to find Rasmus and Nyssa in our bed together. ”

“So that’s why you came back to Willowmere.” There was no pity in his violet eyes; just sympathy and heartache.

“I was so angry that I threw the ring at him, hexed his underwear drawer, and stormed out with just Silas and a few of my things.” My voice wobbled, and I felt tears pricking my eyes.

“You hexed his underwear drawer?” Thorne sounded impressed, rather than judgmental. “With what?”

“I hexed it to insult the size of his…wand every time he opened it.” I laughed shakily.

Thorne’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. “Well done. Is that why he seems so angry all the time?”

I scowled. “I cannot fathom why he’s angry. I’m the one who has that right, after he betrayed me like that. Or why he continues to pester me.”