Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

WILLOWBY COVEN THE HIGHLIGHT OF THE OSTARA FESTIVAL.

I MMY

I don't know why the headline in the Whynot Chronicle bothered me so much. Was it the fact that I celebrated Ostara, in my cottage in the woods, with a small group of witches that I had met at the academy, none of whom who would ever be invited to Ostara Festival with the Willowby coven or other wealthy and powerful covens in Whynot? Or maybe it was the fact that they were my family, my parents and siblings, and I hadn't even received an obligatory invitation this year? I wouldn't have attended. I knew full well my family didn't want me there, and would have preferred to pretend they only had two children not three. Yet, it still hurt that I hadn't been invited at all.

Not even Grandmama mentioned it, and she was my only ally in the Willowby coven.

I poured myself a cup of tea from the herbs I grew in my garden and settled in my chair by the kitchen window so I could look out over the flowers that were just starting to bloom in the front. I loved my cottage in the forest, so far removed from the grand mansion I had grown up in, away from the pressures of being a Willowby and all that entailed. Granted, I only had to walk down a trail and through the woods and I would be at the mansion. I was still on the grounds, having inherited this cottage from my grandmother when she moved back to the house with my parents.

I always loved it here, the quiet, the peace. It was my safe haven, and grandmother always knew it. She gave me the escape I needed growing up, and a place to practice my skills at herbology. We had hoped that I would reveal as a master herbalist, growing things, creating healing potions, having that connection with the earth and the magic contained in it. But it never revealed. Nor did any other type of magic. I remained hopelessly mundane in all forms of magic—earth, air, fire, and water. When I was younger, I seemed to have an affinity for earth and air, a dual powered witch but I outgrew it. Grandmother was convinced that I had a block on my powers or maybe it was a mental one. Either way, I was completely mundane.

I wasn't upset about not being invited, not really. I much preferred the quiet life with my few friends from my Academy days. We were close and I knew they didn't judge me when a spell went awry or nothing happened, as was all too frequent when I tried magic. After our own celebration, we enjoyed some blackberry wine and a delightful dinner, then they left without asking about my family.

They had to have known about the event. How could I have forgotten? Of course my family hosted the event of the season. At least I didn't have to make an excuse for why I couldn't attend and they didn't have to pretend to be sad about it, when the reality was I was relieved not to have to deal with the pressures of being the only Willowby without major power and they didn't have to suffer the embarrassment of my presence.

But it still hurt.

A plaintive meow came from the bedroom area where my white and black cat, Loki, came strolling into the room, his bushy tail swishing behind him as he demanded breakfast. He wove around my legs, purring and meowing, until I got up to give him his special canned food. Then I may as well be invisible for all the attention he gave me. So much for being my feline familiar.

I settled back in my chair and listened to the sounds of silence. Well, the forest noises were around me, the birds, the squirrels, the wind through the trees. But otherwise, I was alone. And, now that Loki had finished eating, he was perched in the other window seat, cleaning and ignoring me. I may as well be alone.

I loved my cottage but it would be nice to have company. "Someone who would actually appreciate me, you ungrateful feline!"

Loki paused and gave me a look that I swore included the feline middle finger, if they had one. I snorted and opened my phone to the website Darla, my friend, told me about last night. Love Bites Dating Agency. My family would freak if they knew I was considering a dating agency to find a match, but they weren't getting involved in helping me find anyone. They made matches for my siblings to enhance the powers for the coven and to ensure any children had stronger powers. It was a mystery as to why I was a magical dud, an aberration, according to all the teachers and consultants they checked in with. So I wasn't getting any dating help from my family.

It was up to me. If I wanted to find happiness and companionship, it was in my hands.

I clicked the website and set up a date and time to meet with them.

A few days later, I was seated in a conference room in the Love Bites Dating Agency, reviewing a very lengthy questionnaire and being subjected to some invasive questions, some of which not-so-subtly asked about my family and why I wasn't working through them for a mate. Everyone knew Willowby's arranged their own marriages and it always depended on powers.

"Please tell us your power strengths so we can match you with an appropriate witch," the technomage stated in a monotone, his head never lifting from the tablet and his long, shaggy hair falling about his face.

Technomages and witches didn't get along well. Witches thought they were the pure purveyors of magic while technomages thought they were stuck in time. Technomages believed binding magic and technology was the wave of the future. Who knew which one was right? But the animosity rolling off him in waves was pissing me off, though I understood it. My father had led the charge in trying to limit their power and status among the witches, hoping to ensure they never had a say on the Council. Sadly, he succeeded in giving them only one seat on the Council. No wonder they were pissed.

"I don't see why my powers matter. I'm not looking for a witch match. I'm focused more on a match for me, the person. Isn't that what you do?" I folded my hands in my lap, my nails digging into my palms, hoping he couldn't sense the tension rising in me.

The technomage raised his head and focused on me. "Your power is a part of who you are. It goes into the criteria for a mate."

A lilting voice, almost musical, came from the banshee seated next to the man. I would have been fooled into thinking she was sweet if I hadn't heard her yelling at the receptionist when I first came in. "Now, Thaddeus. Power is only one aspect of criteria for witches. Miss Willowby is correct that we consider all aspects of a person for matching."

I smiled at Beatrix gratefully. "Thank you. I am more concerned about finding someone compatible with me, not just my powers."

I crossed my fingers under the table, or my lack of powers , I finished silently.

Beatrix gave a cool smile. "Thaddeus is right about one thing, however. We do need to know more about your witch aspect since other witches will need to know. We cannot match a fire witch with a water one, now can we?"

Her laugh was lilting and sweet but I sensed there was little humor in the steel tone. I sighed and went with what my family had always said were my powers. "Air and earth."

Thaddeus resumed tapping on his screen, then turned it towards me. "Lick."

I grimaced. "No thanks. I don't lick strange things."

He sighed. "We usually take a hair or drop of blood, but neither of those worked for you. Licking is our next option."

Oh, so that was why I had to prick my finger and pluck that hair from my head. Would have appreciated a heads up. I leaned forward and tentatively licked the screen.

Thaddeus gave an exaggerated sigh. "It won't bite you. Lick the damn thing like you're making out with it. Maybe that's why you can't find a date."

Beatrix hissed at him and, if I had been able to cast a hex without it backfiring, I would have. Instead, I grabbed the tablet and licked it harder. The taste of oranges exploded on my tongue and my tongue immediately started to swell and itch.

I jumped to my feet and fumbled for my bag, my lips tingling and burning. "It's orange!"

He rolled his eyes and rescued the tablet from mid-air. Beatrix eyed me like I was a crazy person, probably wondering how to quietly refund my money and send me on my way.

"I'm allergic!"

Her eyes widened with alarm, and she raced around the table. "It's not real oranges, right, Thaddeus?"

He shrugged, not even looking up. Asshole. "We don't know. We haven't even figured out why it tastes like oranges."

I pulled out the baggie of herbs I carried that helped me with any accidental exposure to citrus, and placed a pinch on my tongue. Immediately, the sensation began to abate.

Beatrix sank into the chair next to me, relieved. "Are you alright? Do you need some water?"

I shook my head. I just wanted this over with.

Thaddeus, oblivious to the stress of the past few moments, spoke. "Favorite breakfast food?"

"Not orange juice," Beatrix and I both spoke in unison.