Chapter 1

T his is your last chance. If you don't do this, everything is going to be over. Forever.

Margot's fingers tightened into fists, even as a more rational voice inside her head gently suggested that maybe she was being just a little bit over-dramatic.

And who knew – maybe the voice was right. Maybe her own perception of her problems was a little overblown, and actually all of this was perfectly surmountable.

… Or maybe things were even worse than she'd originally thought, and not only was she condemned to a life of misery and failure, but she was also going to inadvertently cause the heat death of the universe, or something similarly horrendous.

She stifled a sigh, and made a conscious effort to unclench her hands.

What's with all the doom and gloom? I'm not normally like this. Sure, I can get a bit anxious occasionally, but I've usually got my head on at least reasonably straight.

That was all true… but then again, she usually wasn't operating under a do-or-die ultimatum. Or, at least, a do-or-fail ultimatum, which wasn't exactly much better. Which one was worse – death, or humiliation?

Because that was what was on the line, here. Complete and utter embarrassment. Shame and disgrace to her family, all her ancestors, and probably any descendants that may one day come after her.

Because really, when your dad was a bigwig in magical research – specifically the go-to guy for all things levitation and telekinesis – and your mom was running the single biggest magical university in the world, well, expectations were that you would have managed to graduate from your course of study in practical magic before the age of twenty-six.

At the very least, it was expected that you wouldn't somehow manage to set your professor's beard on fire. Especially when you weren't even in pyromancy class.

It was a little impressive, she supposed, that she'd managed to summon a kind of magic that she'd never even once been trained in. The purple flames in Professor Imari's beard, unfortunately, had been even more impressive still, and she was lucky that he'd been able to douse them immediately – not with a spell, but by dunking his beard into the large-mouthed bottle of water that had been sitting on his lectern.

Not many things from the non-magical world filtered through to the magical world, but in this case, it had been fortunate that Professor Imari had been caught up in the non-magical world's craze for oversized bottles of water. Hydration is important , he'd always said. Little had he known how true that would turn out to be.

Luckier still was that Margot hadn't been suspended or expelled on the spot. She suspected that the only thing that had saved her was that because everyone knew she was so bad at magic, they all knew that there was no way she could have done such a thing on purpose.

Still, the punishment she'd received had almost been worse.

Being expelled, horribly soul-crushing though it would have been, would have at least brought a definite end to things. She would've slid to the bottom rung of magical society, barely able to find a way to survive beyond the bare essentials, but at least she wouldn't have to go back to class anymore. She just wasn't cut out for magic, and she knew it.

But no, instead of being expelled, she was being given a second chance. A second chance that involved a major magical research project, which, should she pass it, would be enough to scrape her through to an overall passing grade.

If it had just been research, she could've maybe done it. While she didn't consider herself skilled at research per se, she was at least passable at it. But magical research always involved a practical element – you had to prove what you were researching, after all – and it was this element that filled her with dread.

She'd wanted to tell them no. To beg them to please just let her bow out with as much dignity as she could muster, meager though it would be.

But it would've killed her parents. They'd been so supportive of her studies over the years, making sure she had access to whatever materials she needed, tutoring her at home in their scarce spare time, and generally just being so wonderfully encouraging that she knew it would break their hearts if she dropped out.

And how would it look, if the daughter of two of the most powerful witches and wizards in the world couldn't even pass the most basic of magical studies? She didn't know anyone who had failed.

Ever.

There were occasional whispers of people who never mastered basic magic and just locked themselves away, living as recluses, or who went out to the non-magical world in order to try their luck. But it was all very hush-hush, and most definitely not something to aspire to. The complete opposite, in fact.

No. She had to go through with it. She had to pass. Not just for her, but for her parents.

Which was how she'd ended up here, on this bus, looking out the window as the snow grew thicker and thicker on the ground as the bus chugged up the winding mountain road, making grumbling noises on the steeper bits.

If nothing else, she supposed that she was having an adventure.

She'd never been on a bus before, and had barely seen snow, having grown up in warmer climes. The magical world wasn't really quite part of the non-magical world, existing alongside it but not quite in it. It wasn't in a physically different place – it was more just slightly out of phase with it.

A different state of mind, was how she thought it was most easily described. There were things going on in each world that the others just weren't aware of, slipping past on the edge of a person's consciousness.

The only difference was that magical people could move into the non-magical world when they chose to, while non-magical people didn't have the choice. Sometimes they might catch something magical out the corner of their eye and be confused for a moment, but then they'd shake it off as a moving shadow, or their mind playing tricks on them, or anything other than what it actually was: the presence of magic, just beyond their perception.

Given that she was incapable of safely traveling long distances via magical means, she had no choice but to go out into the non-magical world and interact with non-magical people – and so here she was, on a bus, heading to a town she'd never heard of. It was interesting, watching the world go by for hours on end, although she could've done without the part where her knees were brushing the seat in front of her and her butt was slowly going numb.

An irritatingly familiar voice intruded on her thoughts.

Are you going to spend this entire trip finding things to complain about? Because if you are, let me know now, so I can tune you out.

Margot's nose scrunched up in mild annoyance. You already ‘tune me out,' as you so euphemistically put it. ‘Ignore me constantly' would be more accurate.

Her familiar, Monty, turned his cat nose up at her in disdain as he strutted along the headrest of the seat in front of her, his whiskers twitching, large fluffy tail wiggling.

Maybe I would pay more attention to you if you had something worthwhile to say.

Margot bit her lip to keep from answering out loud. In the magical world, it would have been perfectly normal for her to reply to him – even though the witches and wizards around her wouldn't have been able to hear what he said, they would have been able to see him, and would have known that they could communicate.

But her parents had warned her that in the non-magical world, people did not have familiars. They couldn't even see Monty – he was more of a spiritual cat than an actual cat. Regular people could only see him if he chose to be perceived.

She supposed that there might be circumstances under which his invisibility would be handy… and being on this non-magic bus was probably one of them, given the way he was currently sitting on the back of the seat in front of her, presumably flicking his tail around in the face of the person sitting in it.

Ahead of her, she heard the man sneeze.

Maybe Monty's invisible tail got up his nose.

Margot might have wondered if that was even possible, but right now, she was just trying to remember not to talk aloud to Monty. A long-time habit of chatting away to her familiar, snooty and superior though he could act, was hard to break!

His presence, annoying as it was, reminded her of her mission, and she sobered once more. It wasn't just her and her family's pride that was at stake – it was Monty's entire presence in her life.

Familiars were only granted provisionally to those who studied magic, with the lifetime's relationship only guaranteed upon the witch or wizard's graduation as a full-fledged magic user. If she flunked out, Monty would be reallocated to some other up-and-coming magical practitioner.

And that was something that she simply could not even contemplate. Not for a moment.

It didn't matter how much he got on her nerves, or delivered snide running commentaries, or put holes in her favorite clothes. He was her closest companion in the world, and the thought of having to give him up to someone else was more than she could bear.

No, she thought, her resolve strengthening . I have to graduate. For him, if no one else.

Well, she was almost at her destination – this town known as Girdwood Springs. She'd never heard of it before beginning her research – at least, not by that name – but then again, there were a lot of places she hadn't heard of.

She was here to look for a rare flower – the rarest flower in the world, in fact: the flos nivis . The snow flower.

So named because it bloomed only once a year, on the coldest nights of the year, when the snow was at its heaviest.

And it was so rare that no one was really sure where it grew, and there were only a few – nebulous and doubtful – reports to go on, written long ago in ancient tomes locked away in dusty libraries.

Ordinarily, Margot might not even bother with what was so obviously a forlorn hope, but she'd known she'd needed to pull something truly spectacular out of the bag in order to have any hope of passing her studies.

So she'd spent her whole semester break poring over those ancient tomes locked away in dusty libraries, until she thought she had a… very vague, rough, probably totally wrong idea about where the flos nivis might be found.

And if I can find it…

Well, if she could find it, she'd never have to worry about her studies again. She would gain her degree, and then try to put all the years of frustration and disappointment behind her.

Legends bestowed upon the flos nivis a wide array of magical properties, some more outlandish than others – everything from granting a witch or wizard the ability to create mighty magical earth tremors, to enhancing their powers to untold new heights, to curing the common cold within an instant.

Margot didn't know what to believe about any of it, but she supposed that that was the entire point of the research project – to find the flower, and determine what it could actually do . If it was capable of even a tenth of what had been attributed to it over the years, then that would be more than enough for her to spend the rest of her life studying it.

Well. Probably someone else could spend the rest of their life studying it. Several someone elses, even. I don't think I'd be the best candidate for carrying out magical research on a rare and precious flower. But just bringing it back would be such a gift to magical society I could coast on it for a good long while, Margot thought.

Professor Imari had jumped at the chance to approve her research project – but Margot had a feeling that was just to get her as far away as possible from him, and his still slightly singed beard.

And to be honest, Margot didn't have much faith in her own ability to carry out her own research task.

But I have to try, she thought, biting her lip. Monty is counting on me.

I most certainly am not, Monty informed her haughtily, as he finally stopped wiggling his tail around in the man in front of her's face and leapt gracefully down, his spiritual form coasting down through the air to land weightlessly on her lap. Do you think I, me, moi, need to rely on anyone?

"Oh, of course not, Monty," Margot said, momentarily forgetting in her haste to soothe his ruffled feathers that she wasn't supposed to talk to him out loud. "I know you're more than capable of taking care of yourself."

She giggled a little as she ruffled her fingers through the soft black fur of his belly, just the way she knew he loved, as he tried – and absolutely failed – to keep his dignity as he writhed around on her lap, purring like an idiot.

Margot forgot all about the spectacle she must be making of herself until she happened to catch the odd look the old lady sitting across the aisle was giving her, and gulped.

She couldn't imagine what a picture she must make to a non-magical person. To another witch, she was obviously tickling her fingers over her familiar's belly while he yowled and wriggled as if he hated it, even though he literally loved it.

But to a non-magical person…

Jerking her hands back from Monty's fluffy tummy, Margot attempted a smile, hoping she wasn't coming off as too crazy. It was just way too hard to remember not to do certain things when she'd been doing them her whole life. The man at the bus station had asked her where her luggage was, and she'd blinked at him, dumbfounded, about to say Well, obviously everything I need for travel is right here in my tote – which, technically it wasn't, of course, it was just shorthand for the fact that her tote had a pocket dimension inside it, with everything she'd need for her journey in it.

Luckily, she'd caught herself at the last minute and just said, Oh no, I'm traveling light! and sauntered her way onto the bus as if she didn't have a care in the world.

But being unable to resist giving Monty's belly a good scritch had now been her undoing.

Her heartbeat sped up. Had she blown it already? Was this lady going to report her as a witch to the police? Margot had heard that was a thing that could happen here in the non-magical world.

But thankfully, after a rather strained pause, the old lady returned her smile, even if it was a little bit warily.

"Where are you heading then, dearie?" the old lady asked after a moment – maybe she was assuming Margot was soft in the head, and was starting to feel sorry for staring.

"Oh, um, Girdwood Springs," Margot managed to stutter out, as Monty, clearly in a huff at being deprived of his belly rubs, stood up, shoving his ineffable cat butthole in her face, before leaping off to prowl about the seats, invisibly annoying the other passengers.

"Ah, lovely little town," the lady said a little more warmly now. "I have family there. It'll be lovely this time of year – you must be going for your Christmas vacation."

Margot blinked, opening her mouth and then closing it again.

Christmas?

She was about to say I'm sorry but – what's Christmas? when finally her brain caught up with her mouth.

You've read about Christmas! You know what that is!

And she did – sort of?

She had read about it – she'd read as much as she could about non-magical culture before she'd departed for this journey, but that had had the effect of making her head feel so overloaded with information that she had to spend some time rummaging around for what she wanted.

Maybe there is such a thing as being overprepared, she thought, even as she fixed a bright smile on her face.

"Oh yes!" she said, hoping she sounded suitably excited. She'd read, after all, that Christmas was a time to celebrate, filled with joy and excitement. "I definitely am! I'm so looking forward to – um –"

Ah, fiddlesticks.

Margot realized, to her horror, that she couldn't actually remember, specifically, what non-magical people did on Christmas.

What was it again?

"To… to hunt for my… my Christmas eggs, after the Christmas stork delivers them for me, and um, to carve a pumpkin in the shape of… of… a reindeer," she managed to stutter out finally.

There. That's right, isn't it?

Or, she reconsidered, after seeing the expression on the lady's face, maybe not.

"Well, folks must do Christmas a little differently where you're from," the old lady said, after yet another very uncomfortable pause. "But as long as you're having fun and enjoying the holiday season."

Margot deflated a little as the old lady turned away, whispering a little to the equally old man next to her – probably about the poor, confused woman she'd just been talking to.

Clearly, Margot decided, she was going to have to study up a bit more on non-magic traditions before she tried to interact with anyone else, or she wasn't going to fit in here at all.

Not that she really needed to, since she was determined to find the flos nivis as quickly as possible and go home, and hopefully never leave the magical world, shame her parents, or set anyone's beard on fire ever again.

"Girdwood Springs Main Street is our next stop – if you're getting off at Girdwood Springs Main Street, make sure you have all your belongings with you and prepare to exit the bus at the next stop."

Thankfully, the driver's announcement – and that had been a bit of a shock to her system too, a mode of transport that needed a driver! Crazy! – cut any further conversation she might have had with the old lady short.

She shot up in her seat as Monty made his graceful way back to her, leaping weightlessly from seat back to seat back, before winding his way around her shoulders like a living, very fluffy scarf.

Time to get off, is it? he asked as he nestled comfortingly against her cheek, blinking his big yellow eyes.

Yes, Margot told him in her mind – not out loud – as, determinedly, she marched toward the front of the bus. Now, all I have to do is try not to mess everything up.

I'm sure you won't, Monty reassured her, as the bus came to a stop.

Margot raised an eyebrow. Are you actually sure about that?

Nope, Monty said cheerfully, as he wafted his tail in her face. Not even slightly.

Well, that was fairly typical of Monty, Margot thought as she went down the steps, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. He'd seem to say something encouraging, only for – for –

"What – what – what?! "

This time, Margot did speak out loud – but it was mainly because she surely couldn't keep her thoughts in her head this time. She was way too overwhelmed by the sight in front of her for that!

What is all this?!

She stared around her, blinking in disbelief, as if she expected everything to disappear in the split second her eyes were closed.

For spread out before her, in a glittering, wondrous display, was the most amazing thing she had ever seen.

The town – Girdwood Springs, presumably – was draped in snow and bedecked in a wild array of color and light, glittering like some precious and multifaceted jewel. Margot barely knew where to look first.

She gazed at the scene before her, trying to take it all in. The snow was deep and fluffy where it lay along the ground, and was of the purest white, with tiny sparkles where the light caught it. Icicles glimmered along the eaves of the buildings.

But beyond the natural beauty, there was the light and the color – strings of vibrant, twinkling lights seemed to adorn every possible surface, even the bare branches of the trees, casting gentle pale patches of red and green and gold onto the snow.

It took her breath away. There was nothing like this back home! Sure, magical light displays were a dime a dozen – which was a saying she'd read they used in the non-magical world – but Margot had to admit that she was a bit bored of them at this point. Each was bigger and more spectacular than the last, and while she admired the mastery of those who performed the feats, it had all gotten a bit… dull.

You could do anything with magic after all, but…

The people in this town did all this… without magic?!

There was something about these lights and the sheer physicality of them that just tugged at her heart in the most wonderful way, even as she marveled at how they could even work. They seemed to be joined together by little black strings. She couldn't help but wonder at where those strings went and what they did.

Not that she was completely detached from how the non-magical world did things – she had caught glimpses in the past, and there were witches and wizards who used ‘technology' to enhance their magic. There had just never been much reason, or opportunity, for her to learn about these things.

She stood there and watched, entranced, knowing full well her mouth was hanging open, as the lights blinked on and off. She was only dimly aware of the bus pulling away behind her and Monty insistently headbutting the side of her head from his perch upon her shoulder.

It really was lovely.

The lights, not the headbutting.

Eventually, she dragged her eyes away from the light display so that she could take in the rest of the decorations. Everywhere she looked, there was something new and strange and wonderful to see: giant red-and-white-striped hooks, a fat old man in red pajamas, holly wreaths, colorful round balls, strings of a glittering metallic substance, a herd of reindeer.

Ha! she thought triumphantly. I knew I was right about the reindeer!

There's a first time for everything, Monty sniffed.

You say that like a cat who doesn't want to get his treat, she shot back.

Monty shut up real fast. For a cat that spent most of his time as an invisible specter and technically didn't actually need food, he sure did like to scarf down a piece of fish – or ten – when he was in his physical form.

Margot continued to look for a while longer, just happy to bask in the strangeness and wonder of it all, and to breathe in the crisp, clean mountain air.

"Excuse me, miss –"

Margot jumped at the sound of a voice behind her, and realized, to her slight mortification, that she'd simply been standing in the middle of the public thoroughfare, blocking the passers-by who were clearly just trying to go about their day.

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" she babbled, as she jumped out of the way of a young couple and their two apple-cheeked children, bundled up in woolen hats and scarves, their jackets making them round as pumpkins.

Margot couldn't help but stare as they passed. If the weather got a bit nippy in the magical world, she and everyone else she knew just cast a spell to keep a bubble of warm air around them as they moved about. The spell was so simple that even she could do it easily. There wasn't any need to bundle up so much!

But everyone seemed to be dressed like that – everyone had on earmuffs and woolen scarves and gloves and long coats and jackets.

Okay, note to self: in the interest of blending, make sure I wear some of those things, Margot thought, as she turned in a circle on the spot, simply trying to take it all in.

It was clear, however, that all the cultural preparation she thought she'd done back home was manifestly inadequate.

I need to know more! And – she thought, shivering, and realizing just how cold her cheeks were getting – I need to get inside and figure out where to go from here.

She did have a magical map she could follow – one not created by her, obviously, since her sense of direction wasn't the best – but she decided to put it aside for a bit and just wander. She could always get it out if she needed to, but for the moment she was content to see where her feet would take her.

Also, she realized suddenly, she could smell the most incredible smell. Quite possibly the best smell she'd ever encountered in her life.

She drifted dreamily down the snow-lined street, letting her nose guide her, only half-noticing as Monty trailed little snowy pawprints in his wake. The smell, somehow, got even better.

Is there anything about Girdwood Springs that isn't amazing?!

In the end, she didn't have to go far at all – just to the next shop, in fact.

That's it , she thought happily as she read the sign above the door.

That's the smell.

Looming before her, dark and wooden and old – and, oddly, completely devoid of Christmas cheer – was the source of the wonderful smell:

Thorne's Antique Booksellers.

If there could have been any doubt about the store's contents, the area just outside the front door was stacked high with boxes of old books, barely protected from the snow by a striped awning.

A small wave of indignation rose within her at the sight. Who would dare to treat books so shabbily, leaving them out in the snow to freeze?!

Well, maybe she would just have to rescue them.

Despite the cold, the front door was propped open, and she peered inside. Piles of ancient tomes teetered precariously in the dreary gloom, and she couldn't suppress a blissful sigh.

Stomping the snow off her shoes, she took in another deep breath of that heavenly old book smell, and entered.