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Chapter Thirty-Three

W hit glanced at the dashboard of his truck, checking the time once again. He was cutting it pretty close. But at least Pets and Scritches was on the same side of town as where he was headed.

He pulled into the small strip mall with only five minutes to spare. He hated being late. And as this was his first time, he was sure there were things he was supposed to do beforehand.

Sacred Fire Yoga was squished between a local barbecue grill and a dentist’s office. He shut off the truck, grabbed his water bottle, and rushed inside.

The yoga studio was small but cozy. The calming sounds of water emanated from a large glass water fountain nearly as big as the back wall. Close to the entrance, there were hooks to hang coats—half of which were full with shoes beneath them—and to one side, there were shelves filled with yoga mats, hand weights, blocks, and rolled up straps.

The lighting was low, the space lit purely by LED candles around the edges of the room.

The atmosphere was soothing and calm with the unmistakable undercurrent of summer magic.

There were six yoga mats already laid out on the floor—five lined up parallel to one another while one was perpendicular to the rest.

The woman at the mat closest to the door glanced over at him as he removed his shoes to place them beneath his already hanging coat. “You’re just in time. Have you been here before?”

He looked up to see the woman was Rania—the summer priestess. Her eyes widened as she sucked in a breath. Whit smiled kindly at her. “No, it’s my first time.”

“Y-yes, I guess it is,” she giggled nervously. “Does, um, does Llewellyn know you’re coming?”

“Do I know who’s coming?” Llewellyn asked, appearing from behind a folding screen that must have hidden a door.

Llewellyn’s welcoming smile dropped from his face as pure rage took its place. “What are you doing here?”

Whit shrugged. “Taking a class… Why? Am I not allowed to do yoga?”

“Not here you’re not,” Llewellyn spat.

A few of the ordinary women murmured to each other, clearly confused about what was happening.

“Aw, why not, Llew?” one ordinary with a very long ponytail asked, looking Whit up and down. “You were just telling us last week that you needed new students. You asked us to bring our friends. I’ll vouch for him.”

Llewellyn clenched his jaw as a vein in his neck pulsed. Whit knew it was underhanded to approach his brother-in-law in his place of business, where he had a reputation to uphold and ordinaries to appease. But he also knew Llewellyn was the main obstacle to Clover and his life gaining some semblance of peace—he’d heard what Erie had said to Clover in the kitchen. And when they’d mentioned over tea that their brother ran a yoga studio, he thought it was the perfect way to approach him—well, the safest anyway.

“Fine,” Llewellyn snapped. “As it says on my website, the first session is free. After that, you can either—you know what? Actually, don’t bother coming back.”

Llewellyn turned on his heels and stormed to the perpendicular yoga mat at the back of the room. The woman with the long ponytail approached Whit with a warm smile.

“Excuse him, he isn’t usually like that. I’m Merry.”

“Whit,” he said with a nod.

“It’s nice to meet you, Whit. Did you bring your own mat?”

Whit shook his head. “This is my first time doing yoga.”

Merry’s smile brightened. “Well, then, welcome! You can grab a mat from over there.” She pointed to the wall of shelves. “Then, why don’t you roll your mat out next to mine. You can watch me if you get confused by Llew’s instructions.”

Whit did as she suggested though he wasn’t too comfortable with placing his mat at the farthest place from the door.

“Stand at the top of your mats in mountain pose,” Llewellyn instructed.

The women moved with smooth, practiced motions, and Whit tried to mimic their stance.

“Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart, weight equally distributed, shoulders down, arms at your side, palms facing forward. And our heads lift,” Llewellyn said.

Whit glanced toward Merry, whose eyes were closed. He followed suit.

“ O? O? O? ,” Llewellyn chanted.

“bhūr bhuva? sva?

tat savitur vare?ya?

bhargo devasya dhīmahi

dhiyo yo na? pracodayāt”

As Llewellyn instructed the class to raise their hands above their heads into prayer position and bring them down to their heart centers, Whit opened his eyes.

He glanced at his brother-in-law. All of his animosity was gone. And in that moment, Whit felt respect for the man. However much Llewellyn didn’t like him, this was his job, and part of his job was to create a healing environment for his students.

For the next hour—as Whit struggled through poses he wasn’t sure his body was meant to twist into—they existed in the same space in harmony. Summer sorcerer, winter sorcerer, clandestine handfasting aside.

And when it was over, and Llew repeated the chant he’d started with, ending with an “ O? O? O? ,” that magical bubble popped. And like a delicate soap bubble, Whit was left with slimy, sticky hands as the only proof it had ever existed.

Merry approached Whit as he carefully cleaned his mat with a disinfectant wipe.

“So what did you think? Will you be back?”

Whit already felt sore in muscles he didn’t know he had. He glanced over at Llewellyn, who stood talking to Rania in hushed tones.

“Yes, for as long as it takes to feel comfortable,” Whit told Merry.

Merry smiled. “That’ll be a few weeks at least. It takes a while for your body to get used to yoga unless you do it more than once a week.”

“I don’t know if my body can handle more than once a week at this point.”

Merry giggled. “You’ll get there. Take a hot bath when you get home. Will Tuesday be your regular class? I usually come on Tuesdays.” Her ponytail swished as she tilted her head.

Whit shrugged—his left hand suddenly feeling very naked without his wedding ring. “I’m not sure.”

Llewellyn started toward them, Rania drifting behind.

Merry clasped her hands behind her, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Well then… Are you busy now? I usually go get a smoothie after class. I know a great place not far from here. Or, if you’re busy now, we could go next week.”

Llewellyn crossed his arms, lifting his eyebrows as if he was just as interested in Whit’s response to Merry as she was.

Whit dipped his head at Merry in apology. “I’m sorry, Merry. I have to pick up my wife soon. In fact, she’s probably waiting for me now.”

Merry nodded in disappointment—even her ponytail seemed to droop. Still, she managed a smile. “Oh, no worries, then. Maybe I’ll see you in the next class.”

Quickly, her ears pink, Merry gathered her mat and scurried to put on her coat and shoes.

With all the ordinaries gone, Whit finally turned to his brother-in-law. Llewellyn’s eyes were not the same cornflower blue as Clover’s. They were a few shades darker—more like a stormy-ocean blue-grey.

Rania cleared her throat. “Would you like me to stay?” she asked Llewellyn softly.

“No,” Llewellyn replied stiffly. “Thanks, Rania. I’ll see you later.”

Whit knew, magically at least, Llewellyn would be no match for him this time of year, not without another of the summer faction to help him. So while the tension inside him did not ease, Whit took him telling Rania to leave as a good sign.