Page 80 of Uncharmed

A pink pencil. The one that Annie had enchanted with the silver tip of starlight all those weeks ago, which the girl had used to sketch the portrait of their funny family before any of them had recognized it for what it truly was. Annie couldn’t believe she had kept it. The silver tip winked in a perfectly satisfying, magical way that, even in the chaos, reminded Annie of her special pink ribbons back at Celeste. Perhaps she really had passed on something useful to Maeve – even if it was only the importance of a momentary sparkle.

The last of the stars that peppered the dawn sky were lured towards her, recognizing her special magic – familiar in its uniqueness, beauty and creativity. Silver starlight met milky morning moonlight in beams that gleamed onto the girl. It all pulled downwards to her, allowing her to harness its power and light into the pencil, and she threw her wrist in wide, circling motions, dragging the starlight towards their battle ground to draw firm celestial loops around each of the Heralds. The starlight solidified in sweeping lines, just as it had that night on the meadow. Before they could even recognize what was happening, each of the Sorciety was trapped in an unyielding silver rope. A few of the bravest Selcouth members, including Hal, quickly acted to reinforce her grip.

But even starlight itself wasn’t enough to hold Glory. The explosive rage of her unnaturally strengthened powers, the most poisoned, superfluous amounts of witchcraft gathered from years of dangerous sacrifice, allowed the Supreme Herald to break free. She sent the starlight reeling back at Annie and the coven to scatter them, then turned to the girl alone. Glory approached her in prowling, predatory steps.

‘Almost gone and I’ve barely lifted a finger,’ she said calmly once face to face with Maeve again, although venom poured from her voice. ‘I can already smell the death on you. Normally, I’d insist on doing this the proper way to honour tradition, to save the ritual for when we’d returned you to the Tempest Theatre. But you haven’t much time left and it would be wrong to waste it.’ She towered over Maeve, who stumbled backwards away from her, groaning in pain as she spat out a glob of blood onto the woodland floor.

Glory brought her left hand to Maeve’s throat and squeezed, her right palm opening wide to summon her darkest magic. ‘Your life lines are already blurred, your binds are weak. Your magic is ripe for the taking. Hold still, girl. Do as you’re told and I promise this won’t hurt a bit.’

‘That’s good.’ Somehow, Maeve raised her head. ‘Because this will.’

Annie couldn’t fathom where the girl found any more strength, after everything she’d been through. But with one last punch of her fist, wielding the pencil like a sword, a deluge of her magic exploded in tangles. So beautiful and so bright was Maeve’s tidal wave of incantation that every witch, warlock, wicchefolk and creature who had been watching on had to shield their eyes from the light.

Taken by surprise, Glory screamed and reeled, blinded by the astonishing silver starburst inches from her face. The Supreme Herald stumbled backwards, arms flailing and legs kicking out in front of her. One step too far. The moment her boot stumbled and slipped into the dirt inside the witches’ ring, the circle of mushrooms set alight. It glowed indignantly at the unwelcome visitor who had dared to cross it, uninvited. A flash of undignified panic appeared on Glory’s face, normally so poised, as the witches’ ring caught hold. Her eyes went unnaturally wide as she realized her unfolding fate. In a blink, she was gone.

Once the starburst began to dim, the coven sprang into action. Each of the four remaining Heralds, caught so unaware by the surge of incendiary magic, found themselves with no choice but to surrender. Maeve’s magic had bought precious moments that allowed Selcouth to finally seize them for good. Morena bound two of them, one in each hand, with only the slightest fraction of a satisfied smirk. Hal lunged for Vivienne’s father, while a skinny rake of a warlock from the coven made light work of securing the fourth Herald.

Annie could barely believe it. They had really done it. They had won. Overthrown the Heralds and exposed the Sorciety, taken hold of a force so incomparably controlling, sinister and manipulative, its whispered secrecy the unforgiving bind that had held her life for so long.

‘Maeve, we did it! You did it!’ Annie squealed as she spun, her hands frantically clapping of their own accord, a wildness in her eyes and her voice that she had never felt before as the whole of Selcouth erupted into celebration.

Then she registered the fall of the silence.

She saw Maeve go limp and fall to the ground as the final glimmer of magic drained from her young body. She had turned grey, wilting in a way that Annie had never seen her do before as the last of the starlight, entwined with her own natural magic, emptied from the pencil with a stuttering jolt and returned to the sky.

Just as she always did – the reason that Annie had admired her from the moment they first discovered one another – Maeve had given every ounce of her extraordinary, authentic self to the moment.

Always. That was why Annie loved her. The girl knew no other way to live.

Chapter Thirty-One

A NEW HOME

Annie pulled at the loose threads on the patchwork quilt, knotting them all into tiny plaits, and waited. Occasionally, her vision blurred behind a film of tears, but she refused to let them fall. It had been hours since they had returned to Arden Place, but she would not admit defeat.

The moment that Maeve had hit the ground, Hal had run to her and scooped the girl into his arms. He had carried her to Mage, held her limp body close against his chest as they sped back to the cottage in a blur on horseback. ‘This is my job,’ he said gruffly when others tried to help, remaining silent for some time afterwards. Before they bolted, Annie had rushed to administer the hasty healing draught that she had shoved into her supplies before the fight, hoping that the basic brew would be enough to hold Maeve’s broken pieces together in the interim.

The coven swiftly banished each of the Heralds to Hecate House, to be held under lock and key until they were fully informed of the goings on that had remained a closely guarded secret for so long. Annie’s brief, hole-filled explanation of the Sorciety’s magic stockpiling system had earned a combination of extreme concern and curious fascination from the Gowden sisters. As the Sages in charge, they would prepare a case for trial and the entirety of the coven would decide together what the next moves might be. Wherever it was they had been sent, Annie knew it was safe to assume that it would be somewhat less of a luxury stay than they were all used to. Romily, Vivienne and Harmony would be thanking their lucky stars to have escaped when they did. Briefly, Annie wondered what would become of them. She realized she didn’t care enough to find out.

The coven accompanied them back to the cottage, so the tiny house was standing room only, bursting at its low rafters with wicchefolk tending to wounds and nursing bruises in a serious, sombre quiet. By some miracle, everyone had escaped relatively unscathed in the grand scheme of the fight – apart from Maeve. It seemed wholly unfair that she, the youngest and most deserving of the winning feeling, had been the one to step up and take the final blow, particularly when the coven had treated her with such a lack of true care. Annie was seething, but her concern for Maeve was the only feeling that mattered in the moment. Perhaps recognizing the girl’s sacrifice for themselves, all Selcouth members were refusing to leave until Hal and Annie were confident that they had returned Maeve to a stable condition. Morena and Bronwyn soon took charge of the situation and sent those able out across the meadow to gather fresh ingredients for healing potions. It was at least a comfort to know that the finest magical minds in the country were at work just past the porch and that several high-level brews were bubbling away on the stove, bringing a fragrance tinted with the scent of hazelnut chocolate.

Hal and Annie had not left Maeve’s bedside. They were perched at the end of her bed, aching and filthy and exhausted, one on either side of the girl. Despite his drained energy, Hal was restless, launching to his feet every few minutes to pace the room, to stroke Karma, who had nestled in on top of Maeve’s chest under the blankets, or to mutter quietly to the constant stream of animals who continued to visit at the window. Many had shown concern for Maeve’s welfare and were bringing endless gifts of care. After an in-depth conversation with a red squirrel who left a tiny pile of sunflower seeds for Maeve as a gesture of goodwill, Hal returned to Annie’s side and squeezed her shoulder gently.

‘I’ve wished to dabble with time magic before, but never quite been tempted enough to take the risk,’ she said quietly. ‘But right now, I would give anything to be able to turn it back and stop her from knitting that enchantment.’

‘Oh, and we both know the kid notoriously responds well to being told what to do,’ Hal said, stroking Annie’s hair. He squeezed again, the soft pad of his thumb against her neck, and placed a tender kiss on top of her head.

Annie bit firmly down on her lip. The overpowering guilt and shame had subsided to more of a general, aching numbness since the sight of Maeve out cold in her bed. She could hardly bear it. Hal took a seat next to her on the edge of the mattress and rubbed her knee absent-mindedly. The small, tender touches were the only thing that had stopped her from falling off the brink of madness with worry. She could hear the murmurings of the packed cottage outside, occasional cries of rallying enthusiasm from Bronwyn’s endless positivity and the lower-pitched drawl of Morena’s cutting sarcasm.

Annie dropped her head with closed eyes and shook it in frustration; Hal’s thumb still stroked her cheek. ‘I was just trying to make everybody happy. I think I’ve broken my own heart in the process.’

Tears finally trailed her face and the few that weren’t caught by Hal landed onto the quilt.

‘Your heart works just fine. In fact, it’s a million times bigger than anyone else I’ve ever met. You feel things so deeply and greatly and importantly,’ Hal told her quietly. ‘Annie, among many, many other things, that’s what’s perfect about you. And the rest really doesn’t matter. Okay?’ He gave her a gentle kiss. ‘The kid isn’t going anywhere.’

‘I dunno, if my legs were working, I’d run out of here pretty quickly.’ Their heads flew to the pillow, to where Maeve’s eyes fluttered open and then promptly squeezed shut again at the sight of their kiss. ‘I can’t believe I lay down my life to save you lot and my first waking breath is going to be to vomit because of you two.’

Annie let out a noise somewhere between a startled gasp and a joyful shriek and threw her arms around the girl as she wriggled up against the pillows, forgetting that she was one great big battered and bruised injury. Hal tilted his head back in sheer relief and sprang to his feet, grinning.