Chapter Thirteen

Along four days pass until August Owens returns to Innisfree, although this time, he is not alone. Sitting in the boat across from him is Lottie Burke, her bright red curls glittering under the sun. August must have dragged her here against her will. As usual, she is pouting and wearing an overly modest black dress.

Marigold takes a long, deep breath, preparing herself for whatever version of Lottie she is about to greet. Lottie was vicious during their last encounter, but August's presence may mitigate that this time. It truly makes no sense—she has been nothing but kind and pleasant to Lottie since they met. She even thought Lottie was beautiful until she revealed her true personality after August departed.

When they reach the isle and begin walking up the stone path, Marigold is overwhelmed with the desire to primp herself in the mirror. She finger combs her hair and smooths out any rogue strands that have escaped her yellow ribbon. She taps homemade rouge across her lips and cheeks and adjusts her yellow dress to flatter her body. And, in accordance with her grandmother's expert advice, she taps rose essence behind her ears and knees and between her breasts for good measure. Upon feeling satisfied with her appearance, she rolls her eyes at herself. Why should she feel obligated to impress a woman who will no doubt find her revolting? A rhythmic knock sounds through the cottage, and she runs to open the door.

"Hello, Marigold," August says.

She had a greeting ready in her mind, but all her words disappear as Lottie comes into view. It's intimidating to be so close to her, as if one wrong move could ignite the air.

"May we come in?" August asks after a time, and she startles out of her trance.

"Of course, you may! My apologies, yes, please come in." She sways out of the doorframe. August walks in, taking Lottie's hand and leading her inside. The two of them stand awkwardly in the kitchen as he stares at her with a devious smirk.

"How might I be of service?" she asks, avoiding eye contact with Lottie to focus on what work needs to be done.

"Well, as you can see," he says, adjusting his collar, "your spell to heal a broken heart has worked tremendously for me. I've never been better!"

She touches her hand over her heart. "Wonderful!"

"It is!" His tone drops when he gestures to Lottie. "But this one does not believe it."

"It's mythcraft," Lottie says, scoffing.

"What's mythcraft?" Marigold asks, mimicking Lottie's tone.

Lottie rolls her eyes and does not respond.

"It's Lottie's made-up word to describe anything she doesn't believe in," he explains on. "If you haven't already noticed, she isn't exactly a believer."

"I simply don't like charlatans," Lottie corrects as she crosses her arms tightly over her chest.

Marigold clenches her jaw. Since her ritual, this is the first time she has ever encountered someone who did not believe in her magic, and it is the strangest thing. As a child, when her siblings didn't believe her about the things she saw, she would sulk for days with all her choice words tucked tightly behind her pout. But now she feels different and defiant. This woman is a customer who has come to the isle after witnessing her best friend's successful spell. What more proof could she need? And why must she be so decidedly rude? Marigold is a decent judge of character, and she hoped that Lottie would be secretly kind underneath her hard exterior, especially now with Edmund out of the picture.

It's starting to feel like she was wrong this time.

August rubs his temples. "Can you be silent instead of snarky for one small minute, please?"

"If I'm so horrible, why did you drag me here with you?" Lottie says.

"Because you're my best friend, even if you are notoriously sour," August says. "Now, I have argued with Lottie for far too long about this, so I brought her here to see it for herself." He takes another long look around the cottage, admiring the ingredients that line the walls. "What other spells can you cast, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I don't mind at all," she says. Despite Lottie's rudeness, she is beyond thrilled to have more people to talk to, someone else's voice warm in her ear. "All my spells must have good and clear intentions. With those parameters in mind, I can essentially cast anything. Fertility, as you know because of your own mother, beautifying elixirs, a spell to find one's soulmate…"

"Soulmate?" August chimes. "Well, that sounds nice."

"It's one of the more difficult spells, but definitely worth it for those who want to find true love. It's actually the spell that brought my parents together."

August laughs and scrunches his brows. "Who wouldn't want to find true love?"

She shrugs. "Some people are meant for different paths, I suppose."

"Everyone is meant to find love," he says.

She sighs softly—she's not in the mood to argue or disclose her curse, especially in front of the skeptical woman who would likely insult her about it. "Well, would you like that spell?"

"Yes, please!" August says, and Lottie rolls her eyes.

Marigold cannot stand it. She folds her arms over her chest and bores her gaze into Lottie. "Do you have something more you wish to say, Lottie?" She enjoys the feeling of Lottie's name in her mouth more than she expected, but that does nothing to mute her accusative tone.

August snorts as Lottie is visibly taken aback. The woman does not seem like she is typically called out for her rude behavior.

Lottie finally finds her words and says, "Not to you."

August grips Lottie's elbow and pulls her toward the door. "Will you excuse us for one moment?"

Before Marigold can respond, Lottie and August are out the door. August does not close it all the way, so she is mostly privy to their conversation, minus a few words that get lost in the distance between them. She can scarcely see Lottie's face through the crack of the door.

"Lots," August whispers.

"What?" she snaps in the harshest whisper she can muster.

"Why are you being so rude?" he asks.

"I am not," Lottie retorts. She says something else, but it's too quiet. Something something Marigold, something something mythcraft, something something beautiful.

"Beautiful?" Marigold whispers to herself as she comes closer to the door midway through August's response.

"… so maybe this is the time to not immediately push a nice person away."

Lottie grunts. "What if I don't think she's nice?"

"You're lying. You're doing your lying face."

"I do not have a lying face," she replies.

"You chew on your lip and scrunch up your eyebrows."

Lottie releases her lip from her teeth and relaxes her brows. "Leave me alone, August. I'll support you in whatever you want to do, but I'm not going to believe in it."

Oh yes, you will, Marigold thinks as she steps away from the door just in time for August to open it and come back inside.

"Apologies again, Marigold. You were saying?"

Her smirk is wicked. "I have a proposition for you two."

"Go on," August says.

"I will get to work on your soulmate spell. It will take some time to complete because it requires moon water, and I am unfortunately all out, but lucky for you, the full moon is only one week away."

"That sounds simple enough. Shall we return then to retrieve the completed spell?" he says brightly while Lottie holds her suspicious gaze.

"Well, enter the rest of my proposition; I'll give you your spell, if," she says, stepping toward Lottie, "you give me a chance to convince you that my magic is real."

Lottie immediately laughs. "That won't be possible, Witch."

The title is meant to be an insult, but her heart still warms at the sound. She loves being called a witch. It's by far her most interesting attribute. She stifles that feeling as best she can, determined to maintain her upper hand in the conversation.

"I want you two to stay with me. I want to show you all the possible proof you could witness. And then," she says as she comes even closer, intensity building with every step, "I want to hear you say it."

"Say what?" Lottie says, her voice warm against Marigold's cheek.

"You will admit that you believe in magic, and I'll give the spell to August."

August does not say a word during this entire exchange. It's as if he's never seen anyone challenge Lottie before. Others must find her exceptionally intimidating, maybe even terrifying. But Marigold senses something underneath that cold exterior, and she wants to see it. She wants to know the real Lottie, and find the softness behind her sharp tongue. She is a Honey Witch, after all, and like her grandmother used to say, Honey Witches find beauty where others may not.

Lottie's gaze leaves August and centers on her. She looks her up and down, though she does not seem to relax her demeanor at all. Marigold stands tall and still.

Lottie stops chewing on her lip and says, "This isn't fair."

She almost agrees; normally, she would never withhold a spell from a lonely heart. It is not in her nature to bargain with the fate of others. But something about this woman's absolute rejection of all things magic has sparked her defiance. She feels insulted, embarrassed, and entirely committed to proving herself. Spite is a uniquely powerful motivator.

"If you refuse to have an open mind, it will only be hurting the one person who you seem to actually care about."

There is a long, heavy pause. August nudges Lottie, who is now staring at the kitchen with a look of bewilderment. She steps away from August's side and walks to the window, where the sun reaches through to touch her face. Her bright red curls bring out the green hues of her eyes that seem to glitter in the light. From the first shelf, she picks up a jar labeled LAUGHING SPELL and rolls her eyes again. Marigold knows that Lottie believes none of it and that she has no intentions of changing her mind, but at the very least, Lottie seems like she wants to support August. If anything, it appears as if she would go against her own gut in order to make August happy.

"I'm thinking," Lottie mutters.

August and Marigold both freeze, afraid that any sudden movement from either of them could be what startles Lottie into running away. But she does not run. Instead, she ponders.

"I suppose there is no harm in it," Lottie mutters as she paces around the cottage, again finding herself standing before the sunny window. Marigold comes to her side, and for a moment, they are both lost in the peace of wild things. The misty air weaves itself through the green branches that stretch into the blue expanse above. Heavy fruit hangs from the trees, begging to burst beneath the slightest touch. The surface of the lake shines like diamonds and sapphires.

"Beautiful, isn't it? And there is so much more to see. So much that I can show you if you let me," Marigold says as she rests her palms on the corners of the windowsill and takes a deep breath of sun-warm air.

"It's nice," Lottie replies in a soft whisper that seems to catch her by surprise.

"Let's do it, Lots," August says. "I mean, why not? Marigold, it looks like you have the room and could use the company. And, Lottie… Well, we don't have anything better to do. As you said, what's the harm?"

His words are like an answered prayer. Marigold once thought that all she would ever require for happiness would be to fit in somewhere, to be part of something bigger and better than herself. But now that she has that, it is not enough. It may be the case that all she needs—perhaps all she ever needed—are a few good people who will not leave. That will be enough. It has to be enough.