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“For dinner? It’s like old times.”
Evelyn’s chest ached again as she flipped a piece of bacon. Aster claimed that in Callum it was called a rasher. Sliced black and white pudding—traditional oatmeal sausages—sizzled away in another pan. The whole apartment smelled of fat and meat, and Evelyn’s stomach grumbled at the promise of a feast. Maybe she had cooked breakfast for dinner for old times’ sake, seeing she and her best friend were in the same place again.
“The last time we did this was Blair’s birthday.” The pan hissed as Evelyn cracked two eggs into the rasher grease.
She’d made a mushroom quiche that night, with sausage gravy, while Tovi had supplied bottles of bubbly white wine. Mirella had joined too, bringing cinnamon rolls from their favorite bakery a few blocks from their parents’ home. Memories sat so heavy, like stones on her shoulders as she balanced them all.
“You’re right. I don’t think any of us left your place until the sun started to come up.” Tovi’s eyes glazed over, as if she too were lost in the memories, lost in a world that no longer existed.
Evelyn faced her friend and found Maxie sending Tovi a withering glare, as if the cat remembered the celebration that had kept her up all night.
It’d been summertime, two weeks before Evelyn rode out with her parents to meet the Drengr pack. The breeze of a summer storm had flitted through her small townhome, continuously blowing out Blair’s lopsided birthday candle sticking out of her cinnamon roll before she could muster a wish. The four of them had laughed until their bellies hurt, singing the worst rendition of happy birthday all of Sorin had ever heard.
Evelyn sighed. Blair’s birthday, if memory served correctly, had been one of the last times she and her sisters had enjoyed time together. The weeks after were blurred memories leading to the horrific day her parents had died. There’d been no fun then. No breakfast for dinner. Just scrutiny and duty and division between the three sisters.
Laughter, company, meals shared with others. Evelyn shook her head. The lack of those small joys left Evelyn empty, starving for more than breakfast. As she plated their meal, she grasped onto gratitude for having Tovi with her, dismissing all the things she’d missed.
Evelyn slid Tovi’s plate across the counter island. “Did you and Blair ever . . .”
Evelyn trailed off, not really sure what she was asking. They’d all been friends. Mirella, the oldest, with a husband and babe, only joined when she could, but Blair, Tovi, and Evelyn had been thick as thieves in Nua.
Tovi sighed, poking at her fried egg where the yolk ran into the rest of the food. “We hung out a few times after you left, but she stopped meeting me for coffee. Stopped mentioning you altogether. Then the letters came less and less until she ceased to write to me at all, even when I reached out to her multiple times. In the end, I think Blair felt I was keeping something from her.”
Which wasn’t untrue. Tovi knew Evelyn had lost her flame, something she’d been too frightened to tell her sisters. Tovi wasn’t a witch; she didn’t judge the way other witches would, partially because it wasn’t in her nature, but also because she didn’t fully understand. Witches sometimes lost control over their bronntanas—the power became too flighty or too docile.
Evelyn had burned a few bookshelves in the Nua library during her lessons. Blair had created a tornado in their backyard as children. Mirella had healed someone so well, she’d left herself unconscious for two days.
But to lose one’s bronntanas completely?
It unnerved Evelyn to no end. Between the prophecy, her title, and the unexplained part of it, Evelyn hadn’t told anyone.
Tovi had also been privy to her leaving. Where, when, how—well, even Tovi hadn’t known those details until they’d run into each other on the docks of Callum days ago.
Evelyn wasn’t sure why she cared. Usually, when it came to her sisters, she tried to forget them, dismiss the memory of them entirely. Guilt nauseated her, and some of their last words stung her eyes. Thinking of it never really aligned with her goal of running. Keeping them from her thoughts made it easier, as if there was nothing to look back at while she focused on moving forward.
Until now.
Thankfully, Aster’s recommendation had been right. Evelyn’s new landlord, who was slowly becoming a friend despite Evelyn’s efforts to keep everyone in this town at a respectable distance, declared a Callum breakfast the best in all the land. Evelyn agreed. The sausages, very different from Nua’s, definitely competed with the gravy recipe her family had passed down for three generations.
Evelyn swallowed, taking a large gulp of wine. Why were all these memories rushing back to her now?
“You’re doing that thing.” Tovi eyed her while cutting into some black pudding.
Evelyn squirmed in her seat. “What thing?”
“That thing you do when you have a secret or something is weighing heavily on your mind.” Tovi’s eyes never left her as she devoured a forkful of food.
Fucking flames.
Evelyn was a fool to think her friend wouldn’t see past her indifferent scowl. She’d yet to tell Tovi her flame had returned, and maybe her friend’s presence didn’t play into memory lane as much as having her Goddess-given gift back did.
Evelyn raised her hand, thrumming her fingers through the air. As she thrummed them back, she lit each tip of her finger alight.
Tovi spat out her wine, jade eyes going wide. “Goddess, Evelyn! Your flame! It’s back!”
Evelyn beamed, the smile spreading across her face. The familiarity of her flame, being whole again—it eased years of tension from her shoulders.
“I don’t understand,” Tovi said. “How?”
