Page 16 of Reluctant Witch (A Course in Magic #2)

16

Maggie

“Do you know where the headmaster is?” Maggie asked one of the assorted castle hobs. This one stared out of a tall window with a portrait of several witches in medieval garb. The characters in the stained glass shifted every so often, as if they were restless. All the while, the levitating hob stared into the distance.

“Excuse me?” Maggie tried again.

“Dark days,” the hob muttered. He looked down at her. “Do you like being a witch, Margaret Lynch?”

Maggie paused. It was an odd feeling to be called by her full name, especially with such a loaded question. Do I? She liked parts of it, but there were issues. Her lack of memory, her worry over her son, her sense that the man she was married to was not really her spouse…

“It’s better than dying in the accident,” she said bluntly. “Do I like it? Parts of it, but I miss my career. I miss mattering. I miss music. Things here aren’t perfect, but it’s generally good in a lot of ways, too.”

The hob nodded. “I am Norton.”

“Norton,” she echoed. “Are you okay?”

“No. I don’t think I am.” The hob sighed, glancing back out the window. “But Crenshaw will right itself. Order is like that.”

For a moment Maggie wasn’t sure what to say. The hobs were friendly-ish, but they had their own society and enforced a sort of line between themselves and witches. Sometimes, she could believe that there were only a few hobs around, but the hobs seemed to have multiplied today, like a nest of the tiny beings had burst from within the castle walls. They were everywhere.

“Can I help?” she asked carefully, thinking back to reluctant witnesses and trembling victims.

“Are you a rule follower, Margaret Lynch?” The hob seemed to stare into her, seeing things that she couldn’t always conceal as well as she tried. “In your heart of hearts?”

“Not really.”

“Be who you are, then. That’s why you’re a witch.” The hob shook his head. “Break the rules they use to bind you. It’s that or… despair.”

Maggie’s heart twinged. Sometimes, she thought she’d never learn to deal with desperate people, and right now, the hob in front of her was one of many she’d met in her life before Crenshaw and within Crenshaw. She reached out, as if to touch the hob’s arm. Her hand was too big, though, so she extended two fingers and rested them on his arm.

Norton looked back at her. “We only want witches to be happy, safe, here. ”

“I don’t like all of it, but I am grateful for it. For Crenshaw. For a safe place to raise my son and… a long life.” Maggie wasn’t lying. One couldn’t lie to a hob or a witch very successfully. “Does that make sense?”

“It does. Grateful is good to hear.” Norton patted her wrist. “Smart witch. You need to help them. The maker and the singer.”

“The who ?”

“You’ll figure it out, Maggie. Break the rules, and help.” Then he smiled. “You seek the headmasher, no?”

“I do.”

“Walk toward the sick,” Norton said, nodding toward the passage near the staircase to the lower levels where the infirmary was. “He is there now.”

A thread of jealousy threatened to creep up at the thought of Sondre there with the doctor. They had history, and she was gorgeous. He picked me, though. He’s happy with me.

The words she reminded herself with seemed hollow, but there was nothing to do. She could either cope with her moments of jealous possessiveness or she could let them poison their burgeoning romance. She vowed not to become that person, bitter and suspicious, but even as she lectured herself, she walked just a little bit faster.

When she rounded a corner, she saw him. He looked more like a warrior than a scholar, and she was grateful that he was both brawny and brilliant. And all mine. He smiled when he saw her, and that look, that unfiltered joy and hunger, told her everything there was to know. She had no reason to doubt his interest.

She did have reason to doubt his state of mind. He looked like he’d just been through a wringer. Maggie wasn’t expecting to find her husband looking so harried, but she also wasn’t expecting the rush of relief she felt upon finding him. It was as if a tight cord inside her loosened just enough that her lungs could expand the whole way.

Ask the doctor about magical anxiety medicine.

As she watched Sondre stride through the castle hall, she realized that a part of her new life here that she was not expecting was the nonstop worry over him, over Craig, over the bad-air problem, over her forgetfulness, over the general sense that everything could fall apart at any moment, and she’d be helpless to resist.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he reached her side.

“Ish. That can wait, though.” Maggie stared up at his face. “What happened? You look… shaken.”

Sondre paused before saying, “I’m starting to think I’m transparent. What makes you think something happened?”

“You were scowling to yourself, and you didn’t notice me immediately.” Her cheeks felt hot at the latter part of her answer, but it was true. Sondre noticed her the way a hungry person noticed a surprise dessert.

“Aggie and Allan tore down the barrier protecting Crenshaw from discovery. Scylla and M— Dr. Jemison— ” He corrected himself awkwardly. “—are unconscious. Prospero and I need to go after the witches responsible once they start spilling magic, although she already dragged one back, and I’m supposed to become the head of House Grendel to replace Aggie.”

Maggie’s mouth dropped open as she listened, but when Sondre’s litany of stresses paused, she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him. “Well, fuck.”

He chuckled. “Exactly.”

“What do you need?” she asked from the comfort of his tight embrace.

“To make sure you and Craig are safe. I can handle the rest, but I want to be sure you’re both safe.” He sighed, his exhalation stirring her hair. “I talked to the chief witch about Craig’s situation.”

Maggie leaned back so she could meet Sondre’s gaze. “He doesn’t belong here. I know it.”

“Maybe one day…”

“If he has a near-fatal accident? What sort of mother wishes for that ?” Maggie hated feeling like the two best things in her life were at odds. “He either goes back to where he’s not safe or he stays where he’s not safe. What choice am I to make?”

“Prospero can erase memories.” Sondre gave her a pointed look. “What if people there thought he was not yours or your ex-husband’s child?”

“Like witness protection?”

“Yes. Some witches have needed that.”

Maggie looked at Sondre. “Would I go with him?”

“I don’t think the Congress will agree to that. They didn’t the first time you asked.” Sondre stared at her as he admitted that last bit. He’d broken rules to tell her some of what she’d forgotten—but not everything.

“Sondre…” She wanted to tell him about the hob, about the admonishment to break the rules, but something inside held her back.

What if he’s not trustworthy? her lawyer voice whispered.

“Where would Craig go?” she asked aloud.

Sondre released his hold on her. “He could live with someone trusted… but visit you here. The Brandeau woman—”

“ Ellie?” Maggie hated thinking that the one person she was not to speak to would raise her son in his teen years. I should seek her out. Break that rule.

“No. Her aunt. Hestia.”

“Would I be a bad mother?” Maggie half whispered. She didn’t want to be apart from her son, but she couldn’t live with him without making him miserable. “Would it be better to try to be siphoned and go—”

“They will not siphon you. I asked.” Sondre stared at her, face twisting in some unnamed emotion.

“You asked?” Maggie echoed. “Do you want me to g—”

“No!” Sondre swallowed. “I want you to be happy. They admitted they were keeping you here to have leverage… on me and on Brandeau.”

“On you?”

Sondre squirmed. “They apparently knew that I… that we…”

“Fucked?” she filled in.

“Had feelings,” Sondre corrected firmly.

Maggie felt a warm rush of affection. He cared enough that they thought I would be leverage. That thought was followed closely by a bubble of rage. So they trapped me, endangered my son, and now…

Sondre had resumed talking about Craig. “You can see him sometimes, giving him the chance at a mostly normal life and future, or you can keep him here where he is in peril and unhappy, but you are with him.”

Maggie felt tears threaten. There was no good answer. One path would make her happier, but going to the regular world and having a normal life would make her son happier. “It’s like going off to college, I guess. I’d get holidays? And he’d be hidden from Leon?”

“Yes.” Sondre wiped a tear away from her cheek. “My vow on that. I made the Congress swear they’ll place him out of Leon’s reach and let him move back to the Barbarian Lands.”

“I’ll ask Craig what he wants,” Maggie offered. “I made the choice to bring him here—”

“To protect him from his murderous father,” Sondre reminded her.

Tears flowed faster. “Leon wanted custody. Then he tried to kill us. Then I got trapped here. I remember all those parts, you know.” She gestured around her. “And here is deadly to him. Sometimes I feel like all I do is try to protect my son.”

“He’d be safer, and you could… hopefully enjoy being here with me. I’m not so bad, am I?” Sondre gave her a small smile. “A fair consolation prize since you’re trapped here?”

Maggie laughed even though she was crying over her son’s likely departure. She wrapped her arms around Sondre tightly. “You’re the best part of being a witch.” She rested her face against him and whispered, “Is this a done deal? My actions won’t change it?”

“Yes…” Sondre stepped back slightly. “What’s going on?”

She offered a watery smile. “Trust me…?”

“I do, but—”

“This whole meek-and-obedient thing? Not really me. I will play by whatever rules I must to keep my son safe. I stayed compliant with Leon, gave up my career, accepted the ‘ask no questions’ mandate here in Crenshaw…” She made a noise that was half laugh, half snort. “My son has always been the only way to have power over me, but I’m not terribly pleased that they decided to use me as a pawn.”

“Worrying me a little,” Sondre muttered.

“Good. I remember enough to know you didn’t fall for a dishrag, Sondre.” Maggie paused and grinned at him. “But if the chief witch thinks he has turned me into one, he’s going to be surprised. I have questions. Brandeau does, too.”

“Ellie,” Sondre corrected. “You called her Ellie. You were friends.”

“I know. We escaped together, but… you telling me that isn’t enough. You telling me you helped feels true, but I want the whole truth. And you weren’t with me.”

“Because being siphoned would kill me,” he pointed out.

“Not blaming you. We barely knew each other, and as much as I think we could be the second-best thing that’s happened to me… I need the answers. I get it if you want to distance yourself from me, but I’m—”

He kissed her, stopping her words with the sort of passion that left her shivering. “Be who you are. I’ll still be right here. I made them swear Craig will be safe, but that doesn’t guarantee anything for you. ”

“Good. A hob told me to break some rules, so…” Maggie felt a weight slide off her shoulders. “I’ll be subtle until Craig is settled. After that, all bets are off.”

Sondre nodded once, but worry still pulled at his expression. “I’m not going to ask.”

“Probably a smart move.” She leaned up and brushed a kiss over his lips before she pivoted and headed toward her room. She had plans to make.