With that, he declared Fairchild Enchanted Elixirs and Remedies open.
The crowd surged forward, Briar pulled toward the entrance with them. By some miracle or magic, an orderly queue formed, weaving down the street. The banners, which once obscured the window display, curled up like scrolls, revealing an exquisite array of items on velvet pillows and tiered platters: from tiny jewels to candles to statuettes of animals in delicate china. Handwritten cards next to each described the effects they’d have on a room or a wearer.
Briar had a goal to introduce himself to Linden, but the simplest excuse to speak would be to buy something. The question was whether he could afford anything; even the smallest trinkets in the window display were pricey.
They were only a taste of the flavors within. A display of clothing—winter robes in Linden’s characteristically neutral palettes and block patterns—turned on a pedestal. Longing and disconcertion flooded Briar’s heart. He would give anything to own a garment made by Linden’s hand, but the competition would set him back in his own pursuits.
Knowing he wouldn’t like what he found, he pressed between a few other customers to finger the tag hanging from the sleeve of a coat. It proclaimed to grant the wearer a year of luck in affairs of the heart.If you are looking for your beloved, your soulmate, wear this, and the search will not last long.
“Not like you needthat,” Vatii said. “Since you and Linden aredestinedto be.”
Briar’s insides twisted. It would cost him a year’s supply of medicine for this coat alone.
Setting his sights on something smaller, he perused the shelves of trinkets. Enamel pins, hair ornaments, tea lights. Even these were expensive, but he could always use more candles. He selected two. One would grant him sweet dreams if burned an hour before sleep, the second banished fatigue if he needed to pull another late night.
He followed the gold arrows on the floor to queue.
“Are you nervous?” Vatii asked.
“Excited.”
But the closer he got to the register, the less that was true. Linden manned it himself, his smile blinding. Briar’s heart beat a staccato rhythm against his sternum. He had to say something to leave an impression, but nothing adequately expressed the depth of Linden’s influence.You made my life bearable when I lost everything.He couldn’t very well say that.
Then it was his turn.
Stepping through a portal and into Linden’s presence had the same surreal effect of crossing through worlds. His aura didn’t carry through the camera, and on the day of the Miracle Tour years ago, he’d been protected by wards blocking Briar’s abilities. Usually, Briar noticed a person’s aura before anything else. But instead of the wash of sensation he was so used to, Briar felt… nothing. Just a careful blankness. Like Linden’s aura existed beyond tinted glass. He must have utilized some kind of charm still, to keep prying eyes away.
A mask.
Maybe he really is my destiny, Briar thought. He’d joked but never really believed.
“Find everything all right?” Linden said.
Briar came back to himself. “Yes! Actually, I wanted to introduce myself. I’m Briar Wyngrave. I’m the other Reded witch, your neighbor. Just next door.”
He shook Linden’s smooth hand. Touch didn’t bring his aura into sharp relief either. On the counter, Atticus licked a paw. Vatii clattered over to introduce herself, chattering in the strange language of familiars. The cat turned its head, ignoring Vatii. She looked tempted to pull Atticus’s tail but returned to Briar’s shoulder with an insulted squawk.
“Lovely to make your acquaintance,” Linden said. “That’s twelve pounds, by the way.”
Between them, charmed tissue paper wrapped Briar’s tea lights. Briar counted out coins. “Perhaps we could meet for coffee sometime? There aren’t many witches in town. We could get to know one another.”
He was pushing the envelope—Linden’s shop looked straight out of a magazine, and Briar’s still looked like it was available for rent. They had disparate reputations, but fortune favored the bold, and Briar was brazen.
“Oh,” Linden said. “Perhaps. I’m very sorry, it’s just that there’s a queue—”
“Of course. I won’t hold you up any longer.” Briar ignored the scornful look of the woman behind him with an armful of talismans. “Congratulations on your grand opening.”
“Thank you.”
Linden looked to the disgruntled woman. Briar’s time was up. He took his bag and wandered outside, where the queue still snaked down the lane.
“What a stuck-up prick,” Vatii exploded. “I hate cats. That man betternotbe your destiny.”
“He is,” Briar said. “I’m sure of it.” He replayed the memory with a sense of both curiosity and wonder. “He’s nothing like what I expected.”
“And that makes you sure of it, why?”
“Niamh said the man who’d lead me to my destiny wore a mask to protect his heart, which made it stony. I think it’s a veneer. Would you be any different if everyone knew your name and wanted something from you? Maybe once we get to know him, he’ll warm up.”
