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Twenty-Seven

DRAVEN

I sat in my father’s old office as rain splattered against the window, staring at the mug spell laying in front of me. I’d planned to be at the tavern today, but when Elm arrived at my door early this morning, frazzled and frantic, I’d closed for the day. I sent Edgar to hang a sign on the door. It was storming anyway, so most patrons wouldn’t be out, and it gave me time to work on this damned spell. I had promised Adelaide she could stay as long as she’d wanted, and if I had a guest here, I should stay too.

If only I weren’t distracted by the memories of this place. The last time I’d been in this office, my father had been alive. We’d been working together on a spell that he’d asked for my help with. A particularly complicated one that Witch Superior had wanted him to create. It was going to be used to break a curse, one that had put one of Witch Superior’s magistrates into an eternal sleep. She suspected the vampires had something to do with this dark magic, that they’d hired a witch to create the curse. That happened all the time, unfortunately—witches who could be bought by the highest bidder, no allegiance to their own kind or our realm. It had been one of the hardest spells I’d ever worked on. Yet this damned mug spell was what would finally do me in.

I couldn’ t understand where I was going wrong. It should’ve been simple. A patron orders a drink; the mug goes to the appropriate barrel and fills itself; the mug flies to the patron. But every variation had a problem. The drink spilling. The mug going too fast. The mug falling mid-air. The mug going to the wrong barrel of ale. It was enough to drive me insane. It usually helped to write out the spell first, to see it and visualize it before I cast it, but not this time.

A knock sounded on my door, and I looked up to see Georgie standing in the doorway.

I leaned back in my chair. “Hey,” I said.

“Hey.” Georgie gestured to the chair sitting in front of my desk. “Busy?”

I looked down at the spell I was working on. I could use a break. “No, go ahead.” Georgie sat, and I studied her. “You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to. We can send you in a carriage to the apartment.”

This place carried a lot of good memories for me but a lot of painful ones as well. Every room, every corner, felt like a reminder of my parents, and I hadn’t even lived here. I couldn’t imagine what it felt like for Georgie.

“Oh.” She looked down at her hands folded in her lap. “Are you not coming back to the apartment?”

“Ah. Well, we have a visitor. Adelaide Moonflower fell sick last night, so she and Elm might be staying for a day or two. I feel like I should stay as well until I know she’s okay. But Edgar will come with you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Right. Edgar.”

“What do you have against Edgar?” I asked. I figured Georgie would be thrilled to have a pet dragon, but as usual, I’d made the wrong move when it came to my little sister. It seemed all the dragon did was annoy her.

“He’s nice enough, but he’s scared of everything.”

I leveled her with a look. “You could use a little of that in your life. You’re not nearly scared enough.”

She rolled her eyes and huffed. “There’s nothing to do in Thistlegrove. It’s so boring.”

“You lived here for years before...” I trailed off and cleared my throat. “You didn’t used to think it was boring.”

“Because Mother and Father made it fun.”

I heard what she wasn’t saying: unlike me. Because I was nothing like Mother or Father.

“They took me on adventures, they let me into their world. Every time they had to break a curse, they’d bring me along. Except for the last time.”

The time that had ultimately been their demise.

Her gaze dipped to the parchment on my desk. “What are you working on that’s been so consuming these last few weeks? Is it a curse?” Excitement filled her voice.

“No. A spell for the tavern,” I said. “It’s nothing.”

“I could help.” She gave a small shrug.

I opened my mouth to tell her she didn’t have to worry about stuff like this when Elm appeared in the doorway. “Oh good, you’re here.”

Georgie’s shoulders slumped. “I guess I’ll go.”

“I’ll send for a carriage,” I said.

She turned her back to me and stomped past Elm. “Don’t bother,” she yelled over her shoulder. “I can call for my own carriage.”

Elm looked to Georgie and then to me. “She okay?”

“As usual I’ve done something wrong, and as usual, I have no idea what.” I’d give her space and try to talk to her later, though that never seemed to fix anything. In fact, all I did was make things worse.

Maybe I wasn’t the best fit for her. I thought about our grandmother’s offer to keep Georgie with her and wondered if I’d made a huge mistake saying no.

“She is sixteen. Give yourself some grace,” Elm said.

“How is Adelaide?” I asked.

“Better, especially now that her sister has visited.”

I stiffened. “Her sister?”

A slow smile spread across Elm’s face. “You mean she didn’t pull you into another closet while she was here?”

I grabbed a piece of parchment, crumpled it, and launched it at Elm’s head.

He batted it away, laughing. Elspeth was here. I didn’t know why, but I wanted to see her. To talk to her .

I began to stand. “Well, I should go see her. Make sure she has everything she needs. I’m sure she wants to spend the night here, keep an eye on her sister.”

Elm’s brows pinched together. “But she’s already left. Just now actually.”

Rain pelted the window, and lightning split the sky.

“But it’s pouring rain. It’s at least a thirty-minute walk to the cottage.” She had to be daft to walk in a storm like this, but it didn’t surprise me, not when it came to Elspeth.

Elm sighed. “I know. Adelaide is worried about her, asked if I could go after her and make sure she gets home safely.”

“I’ll go,” I said, a little too quickly because Elm’s eyes flashed. “You will be of much better use to Adelaide than me. Keep her comfortable and let her know that I’ll make sure Elspeth is safe.”

Elm gave me a knowing look. “Draven Darkstone, do you have a crush?”

I snorted. “Hardly. That kiss was a drunken mistake. Elspeth speaks her mind, is far too stubborn, and I don’t know anything about her.” Except that she was caring, that she shared some of the same burdens I did, that she would do anything for her sisters, including walking thirty minutes in the rain to check on them when they were ill. That she had incredible lips—lips I couldn’t stop thinking about since they were on mine.

“No, that’s definitely not the look of a man obsessed,” Elm said. He stood. “Good luck, Draven.”

He walked out, leaving me with thoughts of a brown-haired witch whom, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say had bewitched me in body, mind, and soul—in every way that truly mattered.