Page 68

T he sun shone brightly through the budding leaves of the hawthorn tree. Jars, bowls, and pouches of offerings to the Good Neighbors peeked from every crevice and root of the fairy tree. Clootie cloths, tied into the branches, swayed as the wind caught them. It was chillier than expected, but the breeze carried the warm promise of summer.

They’d set tables and chairs out in the clearing, and upbeat Celtic music played from a Bluetooth speaker. Platters and plates of food crowded the tables—oat cakes, scones, and freshly churned butter sat beside early spring vegetables and beef kabobs. Bright red punch rippled in a crystal bowl, clean cups ready for the filling around it.

Summer sorcerers and witches—young and old—chatted and laughed as many of them greeted each other for the first time since the end of summer.

It was May Day, the official start of summer in the magical world, and Clover’s increasing magic positively hummed within her.

The night before, she’d gathered with Whit’s family to solemnly bid farewell to winter. But now was her time, a time for her to celebrate the start of summer with the broader summer community.

This gathering was particularly important to her. It was the first time she’d ever hosted. And it was the first time many of her faction would meet Whit—most hadn’t even been told she was married.

Clover smiled as she caught sight of Crane dancing with Antony, the ribbons on her flower crown fluttering behind her. Ari and Erie stood nearby, keeping time by clapping their hands.

Returning to the flowers in her hands, Clover finished weaving a flower crown.

“Excuse me, miss,” Whit said low from behind her. “Are you aware you’re trespassing in winter faction territory?”

Clover grinned, turning to face her husband. “It’s summer now. All territory is summer faction territory.”

“Oh? Is that how it works?”

“That’s how it works when it’s our half of the year.” Clover laughed. “Did you find her?”

Whit nodded. “She was in the pajama drawer, which you left open.” He held up the end of a drawstring from a set of his vandalized pajama pants.

“Aww, baby cat doesn’t know any better.”

Whit shook his head. “She does. The moment our eyes met, she ran like her fluffy white tail was on fire.”

Clover pouted. “You big bully. You scared her.”

“I’m the one who’s been wronged here. Lychee has it out for me. How am I supposed to keep my pants up without a drawstring?”

Clover moved in closer to him. “You won’t need them tonight,” she murmured.

Whit’s playful annoyance disappeared as his blood heated. He reached out, easily capturing her hips in his grasp. Leaning down, he brushed his lips against her cheek. “I think I’m going to like summer holidays,” he whispered in her ear.

His hot breath sent a shiver through her as her body flushed.

“We have guests,” she said, her tone holding no conviction.

Whit huffed. “They’re summer witches. They won’t care.”

“But there are children here.”

Whit sighed and let his hands slip from her hips. “All right. But I expect compensation for what your devil child did.”

Clover beamed up at her husband. “Look here. I finished it. Bend down a little.”

Whit dipped his head, and Clover nestled the flower crown atop his dark hair.

She giggled. “Now you’re officially ready for your first summer party.”

Whit smirked down at her. “But this isn’t my first summer party.”

“It’s the first one you were invited to. Do you want to tie a clootie cloth next?”

“What’s that?” he asked.

She giggled, slipping her arm through his. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

Clover pulled him toward the hawthorn tree.

As they made their way across the clearing, she smiled and waved at the summer sorcerers and witches she knew. But Whit couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was that much more breathtaking with summer magic rolling off her, the sparkling sunshine glistening in her hair, which was topped with a flower crown of her own.

They were digging into the bucket of cotton strips when they heard a splash followed by a strangled grunt.

Clover looked back toward the food tables just in time to see Alexandre laughing as he slapped a cackling Llew on the shoulder. Rune stood on the other side of the table, looking very much like the punch bowl had exploded all over him. A second later, Rune lunged toward them while Llew and Alexandre made a run for it.

Whit chuckled, and Clover stifled a laugh by biting her lip.

“Have you picked one yet?” she asked, drawing his attention away from the commotion.

“What is it again?”

“You pick one of these cloths. Then you tie it to the clootie tree. It’s good for healing, or you can make a wish.”

They each chose a strip of cloth from the pile of undyed muslin. And together they moved to the tree, picking a branch Clover could easily reach. She tied her cloth to the limb, imbuing her wish with as much summer magic as she could muster. Whit tied his close to Clover’s. His magic was waning, but he wished as hard as a child seeing his first shooting star.

As he looked down at her, Clover slipped her hand into his.

“What did you wish for?” she asked.

Whit glanced around, then leaned down, pushing her hair aside to whisper in her ear again. “I wished that you would always know how much I love you.”

Clover smiled, wrapping her arms around the back of Whit’s neck as she gazed into his eyes. “I wished the same.”