Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

PIPER

N erissa took to Violet immediately, her eyes as round as saucers as she instantly figured out what our new witch's powers were.

"They weren't kind to me either," she tells Violet, most of the melodrama she saves for the rest of us gone as she guides her to a navy blue chair next to her fire. "My family, the town I came from. You're in a good place now. We have a new coven, and we'll teach you everything you need to know. You're going to be okay," Nerissa practically croons.

Ears, Nerissa's huge wolf familiar, immediately lies on Violet's feet, whuffing gently as he breathes in all the interesting scents on her feet.

A dark blue rag rug spans the expanse of the honeyed wood floors in Nerissa's home, sprinkled with pale yellow dots that mimic the winter constellations that will shine brightly in the sky over Wild Oak Woods in a few months' time.

Violet takes in the cabin with wide eyes, and I cough gently as I try to see it the way she must, for the first time.

It's the ideal witch's house, dark and snug with a stone fireplace that dominates the space. All manner of crystals and dried herbs line the mantel, along with brass and carved stone figurines that Nerissa uses for her spellwork. Unlike most of the rest of us Wild Oak Woods witches, Nerissa doesn't have a normal storefront or café, and she takes clients by consult, writing each bespoke spell especially for them.

As such, her front room is her storefront, and she's set it up to look exactly like her clients might expect. A repurposed brass bar cart full of clean glass jars sits to the side of a roll-top desk artfully littered with parchment and various colored inkpots. Exotic feathered quills march in neat rows along the back of the desk, each with a specific spell purpose.

The fire that crackles in the hearth isn't ordinary either, but sparks in purple and blue and smells like the winter's night that Nerissa draws so much power from in the long dark stretches of starlight.

"I have to get back; I'm so sorry," I say. "Violet, I promise I'll send some things up to your room at the inn. You are in good hands with Nerissa. I don't know exactly what you've been through, but you have a coven now, and while we?—"

"We're going to take care of you," Nerissa finishes and makes a shooing motion at me.

I smile at her and reach down to scratch Ears on his wolfy head.

Violet nods, and Ears yawns as I stand up fully.

She doesn't believe us, not yet.

"I'll see you both soon," I say, lingering.

"Go on, you big worrier," Nerissa says. I scowl at her, then pull out the box of cookies I packaged up for her before Violet and I set out in the dreary rain for her house.

"Fine," I say tartly, but we both grin at each other before I leave.

I left Velvet waiting outside, because out of all the town's familiars, Ears understandably makes her the most nervous.

Overhead, the sky seems to exhale, a steely grey that whispers of the relentless change of seasons. I blow out a breath, grounding myself in this moment, and trying to practice the gratitude that my mother instilled in me as much as she instilled the perfect way to proof a sourdough loaf and how to fill an éclair with just the right amount of cream.

The air becomes too thick to breathe, my lungs aching with the need for oxygen.

I miss her so much.

I press a hand to my heart as Velvet leans against me, sensing the change in my emotions.

It's a funny thing, grief. Some days you hardly think of the ones you've loved and lost, smiling at a memory as it passes you by. Other days, it's like this, a choking vise of misery that makes it hard to breathe.

"She's not wholly gone," I tell Velvet, rubbing the soft white star on her forehead as my familiar looks at me with her chocolate brown eyes. "No one ever really is."

It's true. Even without the aid of Violet's visit, I know the ones I love live within me still. In memories, in the way I see my mother when I look in the mirror, in the way I can't help but try and assist everyone that stops by the store.

I inhale, and begin walking along the fairly empty cobblestone streets.

The wind whips along the corridor made by the buildings, the few passersby braving the rainy conditions hustling along with their cloaks drawn up tight against their faces.

Velvet clops along next to me, her little white tail twitching every so often. Lost in my thoughts, it isn't until I'm met with the sight of The Pixie's Perch bustling with end-of-day customers that I'm hit full in the face by the reminder that a certain handsome orc is going to be sharing my home with me tonight. And for the next few nights, at least, until Violet finds a place of her own.

My palms cover my face and my cheeks are ridiculously hot because all I can think about is how much I'd like to tell him to share my bed instead of the room next to it.

I'm a kitchen witch, and I certainly recognize a recipe for disaster when I write one.

Unfortunately, I'm not always bright enough to avoid putting quill to parchment.

My brain feels full with thoughts and plans for the autumn festival as Velvet and I amble along our street. The magic-lit street lamps come on earlier than usual.

I should bedeck them with some kind of decoration, I decide.

A smile brightens my face, because I know Willow is just the witch to decide on some sort of pretty fall florals to adorn each street lamp. Maybe Nerissa can enchant them to glow a different color for the festival, too.

That would really be something.

By the time I reach The Pixie's Perch, I'm in a much, much better mood, thoughts of all I have to accomplish racing through my head so fast it takes me a moment to realize how packed the café is.

My first instinct is one of delight, swallowed quickly by the panic of knowing that Ga'Rek must be swamped with orders.

I walk in, greeting the familiar faces and prepared to dive into work as soon as I've washed my hands, only to be taken aback.

Ga'Rek's head's thrown back in laughter, and Hank, a shaggy minotaur so tall his horns nearly scrape the ceiling, is laughing too, a box of pastries tucked under one arm.

The whole line's lit up with amusement, and I soak it in for a long second: the happy faces of customers who don't mind the wait, Ga'Rek a total natural behind the counter, and the smell of a bakery that's my home.

I'm nearly knocked off my feet by the sheer feeling of rightness.

When Ga'Rek locks eyes with me, that sparkling laugh of his still hanging in the air, it feels as magical as anything I've ever experienced.

A smile kicks up the corners of my mouth in automatic response, and his gaze heats as he continues to watch me from over the minotaur's shoulder.

I lift my chin, one eyebrow raised, a silent challenge he responds to by winking at me.

Winking! At me!

Well, how about that?

I purse my lips, making a beeline for the back of the store and the kitchen, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions that threaten to overwhelm me.

Ga'Rek is staying the night with me.

I need to decide what, exactly, that means.

I need to decide what, exactly, I want to do about my no-longer-inconsequential feelings for him.

A clean tray in hand, I begin to carefully place chocolate croissants and almond tartlets in neat rows as I mull it over, wishing my pale skin didn't show all my heated emotions nearly immediately by burning up.

My mother used to tell me it was a good thing that I wore my emotions so close to the surface. I wonder what she would think about Ga'Rek.

It's almost as though I hear her soft murmur against my ear.

Life is too short, sweetling. Grab it with both hands and hold on for the ride.

I blow out a breath, knowing exactly what I should do.

There's only one thing for it.

I need to woo a warrior orc.