CHAPTER 1
WELCOME TO RAVEN’S HEAD SCHOOL FOR THE MAGICALLY GIFTED
CONSIDERING EVERYTHING, EMBRYWOODCROSS LIVED A VERYcharmed life. She was a witch after all.
But she did have one very specific something that vexed her.
Someone. Repeatedly. Often. And right now.
Rye Knighton.
The boy next door. The brother figure she never wanted. The thorn currently embedded in her Raven’s Head School for the Magically Gifted track and field tank top.
“Didn’t I just help move you into a dorm room this weekend or was I hallucinating?” Rye knitted his brows as he made his way to the burbling espresso machine in her kitchen.
Rye had his own kitchen. His own house, actually. He didn’t even have to share it with anyone—not that she minded sharing with Daddy. Embry would never leave Daddy, even if she did technically live at Raven’s Head during the school year. Which was Rye’s point.
“Ispelled my trunks up the stairs,” she reminded him, pointedly levitating the mug collecting gourmet Black Cat Coffee Shop espresso closer to the machine’s spout. “The only thing you moved was the door to hold it open.”
“Checks out—I’ve been known to be a very good human doorstop.” Rye smirked, lowering the cup gently with magic of his own. “Makes sense, too, I suppose, that you’d be standing in runningclothes in your childhood kitchen an hour before first bell on the first day of the school youliterally live at.”
Out of habit, Embry slapped at Rye, making sloppy contact with the solid meat of his shoulder as he picked up the petite and brimming mug.Henearly spilled it andshenearly grinned, before deciding better of it and returning to her original purpose.
Because that was the thing. Rye knew exactly why she was here. All summer she’d been running three miles every weekday morning with Daddy. She was currently rocking fresh beads of sweat, hair in a ponytail, and sneakers on her feet. One didn’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to deduce exactly what was going on here.
Embry yanked open the fridge and inspected the perfectly straight row of lovingly prepared mason jars. Daddy hadn’t touched them. With a sigh, Embry plucked up the first jar, plus a tub of washed berries, and got to work preparing the most appetizing presentation of chia pudding Lazarus Woodcross would ever see in his life.
“Woodcross, your father is fifty-five years old. The man can make his own breakfast.”
Tipping extra berries atop the gelatinous-but-healthy mass—vitamin C was a must, according to Daddy’s doctor—Embry did a few meditation breaths.
“Knighton, whyareyou in my kitchen at”—she checked the thin bangle of a watch on her wrist (vintage from her mother’s jewelry box)—“seven eighteen on a Monday morning? Don’t you have a busy day of brooding around your haunted mansion, mainlining sonnets, and draping yourself over various pieces of furniture?”
Rye downed the espresso in one gulp, then stole a raspberry from the open container of washed fruit and popped it in his mouth, green eyes alight. “Is that what you think a gap year is for me? The male equivalent of eating bonbons and avoiding housework?”
“Come on, Rye, you’re more feminist than that.” Embry donkey-kicked backward just hard enough to jab his calf with her runningshoe as he belatedly spun away. To his credit, he didn’t yelp. “And we both know you like a good brood.”
“I do,” he agreed, facing her after refilling his drained cup. “But I didn’t take a year off school to indulge.”
He downed the second cup and grinned at her, guileless.
She narrowed her eyes. “Says the man indulging in my espresso like it’s his own.”
“It’smyespresso, and we have more than enough.” Lazarus Woodcross swept into the kitchen with a kiss for his daughter. In the few minutes since they’d returned from their run, he’d showered, shaved, and dressed for the day in one of his many suits. The man was nothing if not efficient. “And Rye is helping me this morning. Don’t scare him away. You know very well how grateful the coven is to have a witch of Rye’s skill set to help modernize our systems.”
Embry read this as: Woodcross Coven of Ravenwood was getting a free (secure) website makeover for the low, low price of Rye’s deferral from the University of Maine.
Rye arched a brow as if he’d won this round. Embry rolled her eyes.
It wasn’t worth it to raise Daddy’s blood pressure over this. So, she agreed with him.
“I suppose tipping him in espresso for free labor is the least we could do.” Then Embry pointedly dipped a spoon into Lazarus’s bowl and handed it to him. He accepted it with a grimace. “Well then, I’m off to school—happy modernizing. I look forward to flashy, technical things at tomorrow’s big coven meeting.”
Rye’s lips quirked. “I’ve got a massive hologram of old Hiram Woodcross ready to go. Very flashy and very technical.”
“Naturally,” Embry snarked as Lazarus attempted a confused “What” through a mouthful of berry and chia. “Don’t worry about it, Daddy. It’s a joke. There’s no hologram.”
Lazarus forced a swallow before hitting the brakes when henoticed the time. “You better get going, Em. Even head prefects can’t be late.”
