Page 30 of Rewitched

“Also, I would argue that we have a bad enough history with trials as it is, so maybe this shouldn’t be the way that things work anymore. The last time you saw me, I was wearing a T-shirt with a tie printed on it, for god’s sake…Just give me one more chance. Please.”

Now it was over. Surrendering to the inevitable, she finally burst into tears. The uncontrollable kind. She could hear her own sobs noisy against the still courtroom, a cruel echo slapping her around the face. But she didn’t care now. There was nothing left to lose.

A gentle hand squeezed her shoulder. “Come, dear. Perhaps a cup of tea to calm us all down. I’m sure we can find some kind of compromise, there’ll be something in the grimoire that…”

“Actually, I do not believe we can find compromise.”

The jury froze, as did Belle.

Morena stepped down from the podium with purpose and slammed her hands onto the wooden pews in front of the jury. A warlock in the front row with a twiddled moustache visibly jumped in his seat.

“Not only is it clear as solstice morning light that this jury has already reached its verdict and that you, Bronwyn, and you, Ms. Blackthorn, are actively defying Selcouth’s deciding word”—Morena gestured to the rows of magic folk who were each showing varying measures of agreement, disagreement and exasperation—“but it seems to me that you are also suggesting that we allow this witch, seemingly incapable of the most base-level spells, to—”

“That seems a bit—” Belle went to interrupt the rant, but Morena lifted a firm hand to silence her. Nothing would stop her.

“—let me check my notes. Ah, yes, break all structures and traditions that this historic coven has upheld since the beginning of magic itself. The very foundations that Selcouth is built upon: the importance of upholding worthy magic and not letting it rot within people who insist on wasting their own wonder. Did I miss anything? Or am I to believe this is the legitimate direction in which you are steering this trial, sister?”

She patted at the elegant victory curl under her hat, which had begun to fall looser as her rage grew.

“Hear! Hear!” A few indignant murmurs from the jury members who were clearly on Morena’s side rumbled behind the Gowden sisters.

“Mor,” Bronwyn responded calmly and turned to speak to the room. “Dear sister and dear jury alike, I am only speculating that perhaps an alternative approach, a…loophole! That’s the divil’s onion. A loophole. I am certain that a loophole—”

“I won’t stand for it! I told you, Bronwyn.”

“But Mor—”

“Enough.” Caspar, like most others in the room, looked like he had lost the will to live.

The coven balancer raised his palms to bring a hush to the debate and took charge of the room with ease. Belle couldn’t help but watch Morena, who was glaring at Bronwyn. The sisters were locked in silent battle. Morena parted her lips but closed them when Caspar gave her a look that dared her to try.

“In all my years with this coven, I have not witnessed a debate as divisive as this—perhaps it has never been. The energy in this courtroom is frankly fraught. As balancer, I am bringing this hearing to a close to reset the energy within Hecate House as a matter of urgency. And I will hear not another word on the subject.”

A moment of quiet passed, no one quite knowing how to respond. It was Morena who broke it.

“So, what happens to her magic?”

Bronwyn gathered her long skirts and remounted the podium, the mouse in her pocket emerging to her shoulder as though sensing the importance of her next words. “I will personally consult the grimoire over tonight’s moon and see to it that we find a solution. Belle may return home with her magic intact until then.”

Morena interjected, sharp and shrill. “But—”

“We are unprepared for this. My decision is final,” Bronwyn said, uncharacteristically solemn. She spoke to Morena directly. It was as though they had forgotten anyone else was present in the room, the tension between them so palpable that it didn’t seem entirely impossible that the air itself would burst into flames.

Morena shot Belle a venomous look, fists balled at her sides. “You don’t know what you’ve done.”

Before Belle could bite back, ask why exactly she’d decided to loathe her from the second they had met, before she could even straighten her hat, Morena turned on her heel and crossed the courtroom, the cascading ripple of her cloak trailing behind her.

She ascended the podium, Bronwyn cried out “Mor, wait!” and Morena banged the wooden gavel down with livid force.

BELLE BLINKED AND opened her eyes to her own front door. A wink of creamy light from the evening street lamps outside illuminated the little glass panes and brass letterbox.

Had she lost the plot? Maybe that sushi yesterday at lunchtime hadn’t been right. Or was it a fever dream? Had too much caffeine finally knocked her over the edge into insanity? Knees buckling, she fell with a thud against the front door. Her coven hat was still on top of her head, her cloak still fastened at the collarbone. Then, hurrying to snatch the former and push it deep into her backpack, struggling with the clasp of the latter before one of the neighbours came out to find her in full witch attire, Belle noticed the dark ink stains on the lap of her dress.

It did happen, as disconnected as it felt, like a dream she was scrabbling to recall. The furious bang of the gavel had transferred her back home in less than an instant. She’d barely felt her feet lift from the floor of Hecate House.

“Coming, two seconds, sorry, hang on! Don’t take any packages!”

Belle’s clumsy crash against the door must have sounded like a knock. She heard Ariadne shouting and footsteps as she dashed to answer the front door.