Chapter 9

Katie

The living quarters of my best friend's house were a lot smaller than the farmhouse I lived in, and despite having been here many times over the years, I was always surprised when I was reminded of it.

The room was simultaneously a dining space and tattoo parlour at the same time, which was remarkable since four people also lived here.

And all of them had familiars. Though as far as I knew, Carly's dad's horse didn't come inside.

My best friend leaned over a frame with a stretched-out pigskin, practising her tattoo skills by drawing a little piglet. I didn't know if that was cute or morbid, maybe a bit of both. Her cat watched on with disinterested attention, though I knew Zipper well enough to be sure that he wouldn't like it if Carly moved from her spot.

She set her tools down and let out a satisfied sigh. "Maybe you'll let me do your next ward tattoo if I keep practising," she said.

"You know I will," I promised, reaching out to touch the top of Banjo's head. I didn't really like thinking about the next ward tattoo because of what it would mean for my beloved dog. "I was ready to let you do my last one, but your dad said no."

"I remember. He said no when I wanted to do Gus' last year too. But how wrong could a goose really go? But apparently, I'm not allowed to practise on my brothers." She rolled her eyes. "It's not like I'd do anything outrageous, those two are walking advertisements, and with how often Hugo takes his shirt off, that's a lot of potential wards we could reach. Did you know he's been caught with the son of the Black Sheep tavern?"

"What? No." I tried not to laugh, but her older brother was always getting himself into trouble, normally over a guy. "Last I knew, he was with the heron ward. What's his name? Davy?"

"Who knows? I can't keep track." She shrugged and set aside the pigskin. The ward tattoo of Zipper stretched on her upper left arm, as if responding to the fact she was no longer using her tattoo equipment. "So, are there any updates on the ward ceremony? Dad's starting to fret about whether we're going to be able to get it done."

"We're still discussing it, and the tattoo artist apprenticeship," I said, glad that I could deliver such news in a casual setting because she was my friend. It would be so much worse if this was a formal report to someone I didn't know, especially because I wasn't really telling her anything.

"I didn't expect it to be an easy discussion. Improving the wards doesn't exactly benefit the tea witches, does it?" Carly shrugged.

"It does benefit them. If the wards are happier and more settled, they can contribute more. And if they get their ward tattoos in part thanks to Purple Oak, hopefully that will make them loyal to our settlement," I countered.

"Hmm."

"Besides, it isn't just tea witches who run things here," I reminded her. "I'm a ward, and I'm from one of the families. And the Millers are nymphs."

"I know," Carly responded. "I just hope you reach a conclusion soon. There are so many wards without tattoos and animals that aren't familiars. It's becoming chaotic down here."

I grimaced. She wasn't wrong about that, and if the familiars weren't officially familiars, then it could cause all kinds of problems, including messing with the laws that governed respecting the familiars bonded to other wards. "I'm aware. Don't worry, I'll keep pushing for this issue."

"Thanks, Kat. I appreciate it."

I smiled at her, hoping she felt reassured. I was going to do everything I could to ensure that the ward ceremony and tattoo apprenticeship went ahead. I knew that it was an important part of what our community needed. And if I had to, I was sure I could convince Brew to support me on it.

Brew .

Carly cleared her throat. "All right, what's the face for?"

"Face?" I echoed.

"Yes, you were sitting there all fine and then you got a confused look on your face. What's with that?"

I sighed and considered how much to say about what was going on with me and Brew. Or wasn't going on, which felt like a much more accurate way of describing the current situation. "What does it mean when a man says he's interested in you but then starts being weird and kind of avoiding you?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, I can't say I have much experience with dating men."

"Right. Well, what if a woman did that to you? What would it mean?"

"Maybe that she's embarrassed? I don't know, I can't say I've had a confession like that before." She gave me a bit of a cocky grin. "I'm usually the one doing the confessing."

I sighed. "You're no help."

"Never claimed I would be. I'm a tattoo artist, not a love expert."

"You know a lot of people," I pointed out. "And Hugo's your brother."

"I wouldn't ask him for any advice, he'd be about as useful as a tattoo needle without any ink."

I sighed and ran a hand over my face. "He was tipsy when he told me he was interested. Or rather, I think he told me he was interested. Maybe I'm getting it all wrong and he was simply drunk and saying something he didn't mean. Or he thought I was someone else. Maybe I'm overthinking it."

Carly chuckled. "Likely. Maybe you could ask Hugo for advice after all, he's got lots of experience with men. And drinking, so that works on both fronts."

I shook my head. "No, I'll just figure it out myself. It probably means nothing. I mean, this is Brew we're talking about.

"Wait, Brew as in Rooibos Brewster?" Amusement danced over Carly's face.

"Yes."

"Huh, took you long enough, I figured you'd catch feelings for him much sooner seeing how he’s always making eyes at you."

"I didn't say I had feelings for him," I responded.

My best friend just laughed and got up to sort out some of her inks. "Why would you be bothered about if he'd confessed to you or not if you didn't?"

I opened my mouth to protest but then shut it again, not really sure what I could convincingly say to the contrary. "It doesn't matter anyway. He can't leave his house without some woman batting her eyelashes at him. He could have anyone he wants, why would he be interested in me?"

"Because you're great. You work hard, you have an adorable dog, and you're smart." Carly said, her gaze travelling up and down my body. "And you're easy on the eyes, objectively speaking."

I snorted. "Objectively speaking?"

"Well, you're not my type but I know good bone structure when I see it," she said, flashing me a grin.

I was lucky to have Carly as my best friend, she always knew how to cheer me up.

A door slammed upstairs and someone ran down the rickety stairs, causing lots of ruckus. I only caught a glimpse of Carly's younger brother before he stormed out. A quacking goose followed him at a leisurely pace, sort of raining on his angry parade. Gus snatched the goose up, left the house without saying a word, slamming the front door so hard it made the whole building shake.

"What's that about?" I asked.

Carly's smile fell away. "Gus has got this stupid thing in his head. He’s been saying he wants to leave."

"Home?" It took me a moment to fully comprehend what she was saying. "He wants to leave Purple Oak?"

She nodded. "There's a settlement for bird wards a few days away called the Nest. Gus said he wants to go there, and try his luck. Dad won't have it and they've been arguing for days. The more they fight, the more I worry he'll actually go."

I didn't know what to say that might be helpful. If Oliver brought something up like that, I would do everything in my power to make him stay too.

"Is Gus not happy here?" I asked instead. "Is there something I could do that would make him stay?"

Carly shook her head. "I don't think so. He's just restless, I know the feeling. Don't get me wrong, I don't want him to go either but he's an adult and he hasn't been happy in a while. Maybe this is the right choice for him?"

"It's a shame when the right choice might end up hurting your loved ones though," I said.

"It is, but your loved ones also shouldn't stop you from making the right choices. If they do, they're not worthy of your love."

I couldn't help but smile. "Are you sure you're not a love expert after all?"

"I am sounding very wise, aren't I?" Carly quipped with a grin. "Maybe you should just talk to Brew. You have a mouth, right? Use it. Now if that's not good love advice, I don't know what is."

I gasped. "Carly!"

"I meant to talk. You're the one who made it dirty," she said, but her sly smirk made it clear she made her insinuations on purpose.

Lewd suggestions or not, talking to Brew was actually good advice. If we could talk about this while tipsy, then we should be able to talk about it sober. And if he wasn't capable of doing that, then I guessed I'd know where I stood. I didn’t like the thought of that which should tell me all I needed to know about the state of my own feelings, no matter what I told my best friend.