Page 26 of Reluctant Witch (A Course in Magic #2)

26

Maggie

Sondre had been furious that she’d sought Ellie out, and Maggie understood that she’d been a little reckless. She didn’t want to burn her relationship down, but she also figured that if she was important enough to also be leverage on Ellie… well, it only made sense to rekindle their friendship.

The only issue Maggie really had was that it seemed that her actions were sparking actual conflict with Sondre. Her recent time with him had been idyllic, although she did recall her arrival in Crenshaw and their initial sparks. Lately though, everything had felt perfect—and here she was trying to rattle him.

Her heart of hearts said that full truth was what she needed and wanted. Craig was safe. With that detail sorted, her ability to ignore the blatant misuse of power that the Congress of Magic had used was… absent.

Now she was sitting in her suite of rooms, replaying memories with Sondre, looking for any other fracture in the reality she currently knew—because he’d erased something utterly unrelated to Ellie. That small detail changed her acceptance of everything.

“I don’t deserve your trust or your loyalty, but I tried to protect you,” Sondre said. “If I could free you from me—”

“I like you. You keep me and Craig both safe.” Maggie curled into his embrace. “I have you both in my life. No ex to deal with. No shared custody with the man that tried to kill me. Why would I want to leave you?”

“I’ll do my best to keep you safe, to love you, and to take care of your needs,” Sondre had started to say. He paused. Then he stared at her. “But if you start talking to Elleanor regularly, I can’t protect you. Hestia is fine, since she’s nonmagical like Craig, but Ellie is dangerous to you—”

Maggie shook her head. He was always so serious about everything. “Now, let’s discuss these needs you plan to take care of… Are you sure a man of your age can—”

He had done just that.

Now Maggie was left wondering how to get all her memories, not just the ones he or the Congress decided she could keep. No rational soul would fault her for wanting answers. Still, Maggie resolved to be more cautious the next time she sought out Ellie.

A knock on the door interrupted her musing. So few people came to the door that she hesitated before opening it. The lack of a peephole to see who was there went on the list of things to correct.

“Hello?” Maggie called.

“Hello,” a woman’s voice echoed.

Maggie cracked the door slightly. Ellie Brandeau stood at Maggie’s door. That was not exactly subtle—and honestly, Maggie respected it. That didn’t mean she could invite Ellie inside.

“Sorry, the headmaster is out.” Maggie kept the door partially shut, leaning on it to prevent Ellie from pushing it all the way open. “He has a new office on the main floor, though. This is not a place that students are to visit now.”

“I’m not here to see him,” Ellie said. “Could I come in?”

“No. I’m sorry, but I’m busy and—”

Ellie leaned forward and kissed Maggie. It was awkward and unexpected, and it felt weirdly like kissing a relative. Ellie held on to the back of Maggie’s neck and deepened the kiss, which made it even more awkward.

Maggie jerked away. “What the actual fuck was that ? Aside from super inappropriate?”

“A test.” Ellie shrugged. “I have memories of you… we climbed down an apple tree.”

“Is that a euphemism for something?” Maggie kept her voice low, glancing into the hallway to be sure there were no witnesses. “Look, I don’t have any issues with women being with other women or whatever, but I am not going down an apple tree or whatever that means.”

“A literal tree, Maggie. I remember leaving the castle with you, and I remember being in a car with you.”

“That’s not possible. I didn’t know you over—”

“You can’t drive stick— not a euphemism. Literally, you can’t drive a stick-shift car.” Ellie tacked the last bit on quickly. “You’re actually a hellish driver in general.”

“Okay… well, I can’t explain why you know that. Don’t care, either.” Maggie shook her head. Everything that Ellie said just now rang as true, but Maggie didn’t care. “You can’t be here. Do you not know that? I can talk to you about it later, but not now. Not here.”

“Did you or did you not seek me out?”

“I did, but you need to go away.” Maggie could see someone walking this way. “Later, Ellie. I swear, we can talk later. Elsewhere.”

“We are in this together somehow. You know that,” Ellie insisted.

“Fine, but not here. Did you miss my angry husband bustling me away?” Maggie glared. “You make me seem like the levelheaded person. Also, no kissing me. You can’t just—”

“I needed to know if you… if we…” Ellie flushed.

“Could have asked. Seriously, you aren’t my type. I like men. Strong, dangerous men,” Maggie grumbled at her. “I’ll find out what I can and send Axell to you to set a meeting.”

Then she shoved her back with a burst of unexpected magic and closed the door firmly. It wasn’t a slam of the door, but it was final. Maggie wasn’t going to be stupid about her decision to investigate. Right now, she had everything going for her.

Just need to do a little sleuthing.…

Decide what all she knows.

Figure out how to share what I know.

Maggie leaned her back against the door and thought about the weird situation she was in. She trusted Sondre, but it was a strange feeling, because on some level she knew that her love for her husband was manufactured. Theirs was an arranged marriage. He’d told her that much.

She was still leaning there an hour later when a hob appeared.

“Miss Maggie needs to come now,” Clancy, the ever-dapperly dressed hobgoblin said. His voice appeared before his body finished appearing, so at first, there was only a voice and a pair of well-polished shoes. By the time the second syllable of her name was out, Clancy’s legs and torso were visible.

By the time his hat—a smart red fedora today—was clear, he’d grabbed her ear and popped them to the door of the infirmary.

“What?” Maggie managed, reaching out to steady herself on the doorframe. “Is Craig—”

“No.” Clancy gave her the sort of look she once had to give to clients who were going to lose a case.

“Where is he?” She leaned against the wall.

“With AuntHestia,” Clancy said. “They’re safe.”

The fact that the hobs had all taken to calling the only other nonmagical residence of Crenshaw AuntHestia as if it were one word seemed to be the least peculiar detail of the moment. Maggie glanced at the door of the infirmary.

“Sondre?”

The hob vanished, leaving Maggie standing in the hallway alone.

She pushed the door open to see the infirmary more active than she’d like. Scylla was still stretched out on one bed. The curtain beside her was pulled closed, and on the other side, she heard Sondre’s voice.

“Get it off me,” he yelled.

The curtain sagged as someone launched or fell against the dingy drape. A crash of metal onto the castle floor followed. And the doctor’s voice almost at the same time. “Stop thrashing, Sondre.”

Maggie walked past the woman in the first bed and peered around the curtain. Sondre was not a very cooperative patient at all. He flailed, trying to shake something off his arm. “Get. It. Off. Me,” he repeated louder. “I don’t care what your theories are. I want it gone.”

“Hey…” She met his gaze then. “What’s going on here?”

“It hurts.” He glared at the snake stuck on his arm. “And no one is helping make it stop.”

As Maggie got closer, she could see that the snake’s jaw was latched onto his arm like a suckling babe. Not a cottonmouth or rattlesnake. Detailed black and brown patterns covered the snake, and she was relieved not to see either the edge of a white mouth or the telltale rattle at the end of its tale.

Regardless of what it was, the snake had pumped venom into Sondre’s body. His arm was swollen, red, and mottled.

“What kind is it?”

“Magical,” Prospero offered.

“So I’m not sure how to treat this, and until we can get it to release…” Dr. Jemison lifted her hand to jab at the hinge of the snake’s jaw. “How long has it been?”

“Ten minutes…?” Prospero said.

Maggie had never heard of a snake not letting go after this long. It wasn’t thrashing. It was simply curled around Sondre’s arm like it was hugging him. The serpent’s body wrapped around Sondre’s arm from wrist to shoulder. It resembled an oddly raised tattoo.

“We could cut it off.” Prospero picked up what looked like a meat cleaver.

“His arm ?” Maggie asked, ready to step in and stop her.

Prospero shot her an incredulous look. “The snake. ”

“Where did it come from?” Maggie moved closer so as to stand by Sondre’s head. She picked up a cloth and wiped sweat from his brow. He was clearly in pain, features drawn and eyes tightened.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t bring Craig home. I sent some hobs—”

“Hush.” Maggie kissed his forehead. “I’m not worried about him right now. I trust the hobs.”

“What if I clean the wound?” the doctor asked. “Maybe… if I pour the right mixture…” She walked away, still talking, and started putting together some sort of chemical and steaming water.

“It’s the staff of your own house, Sondre.” Prospero stood across from Maggie, on the opposite of the bed. “I think it was part of the house before Aggie… so it’s yours now.”

“Don’t. Like. Snakes.”

“The snake seems to like you,” Maggie pointed out. Snakes don’t wag, but this one flicked the end of its tail side to side like an excited puppy. “Can we call the head of house to negoti—”

“He’s right here.” Prospero pointed at Sondre. “So negotiate.”

“You want me to talk to it?” Sondre sounded like they’d just suggested kissing the snake. “Do you see my arm right now? It’s killing me.”

“It’s accepting you,” a rough voice said from the other side of the curtain.

“Scylla!” Prospero practically launched over everyone to pull the curtain back. “You’re awake. Mae!” She called toward the doctor. “Scylla’s awake again!”

Maggie was caught off guard seeing the tense Victorian woman looking so emotional. The usually intimidating witch moved to Scylla’s side and gently touched her forehead. Then Prospero helped her sit a little more upright. She was almost maternal.

“The staff is the symbol of your house, Sondre.” Scylla winced as she apparently shifted upright too much. “Accept whatever you’re refusing so as to take over the house from Aggie, so it can let go of her last command.” Talking so much seemed to cause her pain, but Scylla stared at him. “Do it.”

“What does that even mean?” Maggie stared at him.

“I don’t want it. I hoped Agnes would see reason and—”

“And the snake knows it,” Prospero surmised. “It’s conflicted between accepting you and not, because you are rejecting it. So I think it’s using both the teeth Aggie ordered and embracing you.”

Sondre looked horrified, staring down at the now-vibrating reptile. “I don’t want an embrace from a snake.”

“Agnes is not dead yet?” Scylla asked, meeting Prospero’s gaze.

The silence was fraught for a moment before Sondre finally said, “Prospero tried to kill Aggie. I tried to talk to her. We both underestimated Agnes.”

Then Mae returned with a simmering pot of what looked like plain water. “This will hurt. Someone… maybe a couple of you… need to hold him steady.”

Maggie crossed to that side of the bed and took hold of his hand. “Now what?”

“Can you hold his biceps, Prospero?”

The Victorian witch said nothing as she returned to the side of the bed and gripped Sondre’s arm. “Ready.”

“Is that boiling?” Maggie asked.

“Not much,” the doctor muttered—which was not a very comforting answer—and then she dipped an old-fashioned soup ladle into the water and poured it over the serpent’s head and Sondre’s purplish arm.

Sondre’s skin sizzled, and he arched his back off the bed. As the water sluiced to a bucket on the floor, Sondre said, “A little g’damn warning, Mae.”

“You came here to get treated,” the doctor snapped. “You’re getting treated. There’s magical venom in your arm. I’m cleansing it.”

Obviously, the boiling liquid did something to the snake. As the liquid flooded over it, the snake opened its mouth wider than any real creature could. In that split instant, the serpent’s head looked a perfect circle with bloody teeth and a long, narrow throat visible. Then it seemed to let out a sigh of relief and uncoil so it was a long, wooden stick that leaned against the bed. If not for the oddity of a stick with serpent’s eyes, perhaps it would have seemed less menacing. The oblong pupils watched Sondre attentively, reminding all of them that it was not merely a staff.

“That was harsh, Mae.” Prospero gave the doctor an appraising look.

Dr. Jemison shrugged. “Salt water to nullify Aggie’s last magic. I think you were right that the poor thing got caught between Aggie’s orders and wanting to obey Sondre since he’s taking over House Grendel. Magic talismans aren’t deep thinkers.”

“Neither is Grendel,” Scylla chimed in. “You need to sort out whatever you’re worrying over, though, Sondre, or that staff is useless to you.”

“I liked you better when you were unconscious,” Sondre told her.

“Ha! We’re roomies now, Grendel Junior.” Scylla flashed him a remarkably friendly smile.

Sondre looked at the doctor. “Mae—”

“Don’t start,” Dr. Jemison snapped with a shake of her head. “I’m not exactly pleased to have either of you taking up a bed here.” She glanced at Lord Scylla. “And if you end up unconscious again, I will slap you. Seriously, heal faster. And you”—she turned back to Sondre—“stop being so trusting. Did marriage make you soft?”

No one spoke for a moment, and Maggie tried not to linger long over the flash of possessiveness she felt. Dr. Jemison was a professional, and Sondre was a smart man. Maggie had no reason to worry. Logic said so.

Still, she leaned close to him and whispered, “Should I be worried about leaving you here?”

Surprisingly, Sondre didn’t look away from Maggie as he said, “Can someone close the curtain? I want to be alone with my wife.”

“Privacy from noise, too,” Scylla muttered. “I don’t want to hear any of that.”

Maggie’s cheeks flamed briefly, but she stayed where she was at Sondre’s side. The sliding sound of the curtain rings on the overhead bar was followed by the sound of absolute silence. Then Sondre slid to the center of the mattress. He held his uninjured arm out and widened his legs, so she could curl into his side and nestle one of her legs between his.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispered. “I don’t want to fight, either. Later when you feel better… but not right now, okay?”

“Good.” He beckoned with his outstretched hand. “Then come here and let me hold you. I was worried I wasn’t going to get to do this with both arms anymore, or at all after you were so angry earlier.”

“I’d still be here. Arm or no arm.” Maggie carefully climbed into the bed and rested her head under his chin so that her cheek was on his chest. His uninjured arm tightened around her waist, holding her to his side even as he was both exhausted and injured. For the first time since the hob came to fetch her, Maggie felt the knots in her body loosen.

“I want exactly one woman in my bed or even on my gurney, Maggie.”

“Yeah?” Her heart sped at that. This felt more real. A fight, a make-up. Talking it out. “You want me here?”

“Yeah.” Sondre kissed the top of her head. “I have this wife, you know? Terrible temper. Mediocre cook. Great mom.”

“She sounds like a real prize,” Maggie said dryly.

“She is. She’s brave and smart and beautiful,” he added. “And when I was falling all I could think is that I had to figure out how to get home because I didn’t want to lose you or Craig.”

“Both of us?” She hated how insecure she felt, but her son and her spouse were blending about as well as bleach and ammonia. Having a surprise new family hadn’t sounded terrible, but the result was veering near to poison when the two male members of her tiny family clashed so constantly.

“You’re a package deal,” Sondre said mildly. After a pause, he added, “And he reminds me of a younger me. Question every rule. Sure you know the best way. Ready to fight over anything.”

Maggie glanced up at him. “Sounds like you now, too.”

He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose and muttered, “Kettle, meet pot.”

At that Maggie laughed. “Fair.” She snuggled closer. “I think I’m ready to talk to him about living with Hestia.”

“He’d be safer there. He can come home for holidays,” Sondre said after a wide yawn.

“Tonight, though, maybe a nap…” Maggie murmured, feeling unexpectedly drowsy now that the adrenaline of seeing him in pain had faded. “I’ll be more careful if you are.”

“Deal.” Sondre held her nestled close.

They stayed that way, nestled together until Maggie was almost asleep, and then Sondre said, “I’m not sure I want to be head of house. I think being headmaster is wiser.”

“Can you refuse?”

“Let them try to stop me,” he grumbled. “I am the headmaster. They gave me this damn job, so it’s where I’ll be.”

“No more hunting escapees?” Maggie asked.

Sondre didn’t answer that one at first, and if he eventually did, she didn’t know because she had drifted off to sleep nuzzled against his side.