Chapter 1
The Kingdom of Ever
Daniels Curses and Cures
Magic had really screwed me this time.
I stared at the herbs in the bottom of the mortar and pretended not to notice the lime green hair escaping Mrs. Anderson’s hood. She withdrew a glass vial from her pocket and slammed it on the counter. I eyed the half-used potion. It was my latest creation, guaranteed to give my customers’ hair a shiny new luster. Unfortunately, “guaranteed” might be too strong of a word. I probably should have tested the concoction on my own auburn locks before stocking the shelves.
“I want my money back.”
“Now, Mrs. Anderson, you know I can’t do that.” I tapped the wooden sign propped up on the edge of the counter. “No refunds.”
Mrs. Anderson’s eye twitched, the little spasm a precursor to the boiling wrath beneath the surface. “Look what you’ve done!” She whipped off her hood to expose a mass of green curls.
The color was awful, but it was the acidic smell that made tears sting the corners of my eyes. Pressing my knuckles under my nose, I took shallow breaths.
“Did you follow the directions?”
The wooden sign hit the floor, followed by a basket of tea leaves. When she reached for a crystal jar filled with moonstones, I held up my hands in defeat.
“Okay! You can have a refund.” I searched under the counter and counted out the coins, which amounted to the entire day’s profit. Mrs. Anderson wasn’t my only dissatisfied customer; earlier, I’d cast a siren spell and left a young woman mute. A cup of honey-ginger brew had solved the problem, but I didn’t expect a glowing recommendation.
“You’re a disgrace, Tessa. Your mother would turn in her grave if she could see what you’ve done to her magic shop.” She snatched the coins from my fingers. “And you call yourself a witch.”
Her words stung, but she wasn’t wrong. My spells came in fits and spurts, and my potions never turned out right. Admittedly, this was the first time I’d ever dyed a woman’s hair green.
“I’m sure it’s not permanent. Why don’t you try this potion to counteract the effects?” I nudged a different vial across the counter. “On the house.”
Mrs. Anderson smiled, her lips straining at the corners. Holding my gaze, she lifted the tube and removed the cork stopper to spill its contents onto the carpet. The rug immediately turned bright pink.
I bit my lip.Too much mugwort?I was sure I’d measured that one correctly.
“If your mother and I hadn’t been such good friends, you’d be hearing from my solicitor.” Mrs. Anderson flipped the hood over her head and charged toward the door.
“I’m so sorry, I don’t know how—”
The bell above the door jangled with her exit, putting an end to my apology.
I groaned and dropped my forehead into my hands. What was I supposed to do now? Peeking between my fingers at the carpet, I watched the pink stain vanish, leaving behind a spot in better condition than before. The potion did work. It just needed a minute.
“Everyone is so impatient,” I muttered, grabbing the used vials and dropping them in a basket beneath the counter. Quiet filled the empty shop except for the rhythmic tick of the pendulum. I was running out of time, and the grandfather clock in the corner was gleefully counting down the seconds.
Stacks of bills littered the countertop, the invoices mocking me with their vast sums and creeping deadlines. I sifted through them and paused at the notice that outweighed them all.Argus.I never should have borrowed money from his gang. It didn’t matter that I’d been desperate and on the verge of selling the magic shop. I’d missed a payment, and Argus didn’tdomissed payments.
Three days ago, I’d arrived home to find one of the lanterns on the gateposts shattered. A note had been nailed to the wood containing a single word stamped in red:Overdue. Warning number one.Then, yesterday, Argus had sent one of his thugs to lurk outside my shop. The heavy belt at the thug’s waist stowing knives and other ominous tools hadn’t escaped my notice. When he caught me looking, he’d pulled a blade from its sheath and inspected the end. Yeah, it was sharp. Warning number two.Something told me I would not like warning number three.
I closed my eyes and tried to cast the blame where it really belonged. This wouldn’t have happened if my magic had developed properly. In my family’s long line of witches, I was the only one who hadn’t mastered the calling. My mother had always believed I was special and would become the most powerful witch in our line. Only, in the years since her death, I’d brought the magic shop to the brink of closure and sent most of my mother’s dedicated clients running in the opposite direction. A lump formed in my throat as I thought of her. I was number one, all right. A number one screw-up. If anything, I’d mastered the art of warding people away. Too bad I couldn’t bottle that up and sell it—proper warding spells sold for a fortune.
With a heavy sigh, I dismissed the bills and circled the counter. My joints ached from too many hours on my feet, and I stifled a yawn as I padded across the floor. At the window, I pushed aside a tasseled curtain and squinted to see out into the dark yard.
A young woman stood on the walkway leading to the shop. Illuminated by the glow of my one remaining lantern, her long blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders, and she twisted a strand around her finger. She bounced on her heels as if trying to decide whether she was coming or going. With a curt nod, she decided. She was coming.
The woman bounded up the steps and pushed open the door before I pulled myself away from the window. I studied her, trying to remember if I’d sold her any botched potions. At least her hair wasn’t green, but if she wanted a refund like the others, she’d be out of luck. Maybe I could offer her store credit? No. Better to cut her off before she asked.
“We’re closed.”
She hovered in the doorway, letting the cold air in. “Are you the witch?”
