Page 57 of Disenchanted

Sage could have sworn her heart stopped beating. It was only then that her murky mind cleared enough to realize that Casimir was still in his princely attire.

“Oh good, you’re up. Now, about second breakfast…” Mal blinked angelic, round eyes up at her.

Sage gasped.

There was no way that the curse could still be running riot. After everything she had surrendered in exchange. She had ended it. She had put a stop to all of this, done what Lilara had asked of her. Her magic was gone. The grimoire had been destroyed. She had saved them all. The enchantments around the town should be winding down—and quickly. Otherwise, why had she made the ultimate sacrifice? She leaned further out the window to grip the frame. “You must be mistaken, Casimir.”

“Oh, must I? You know, you really are the rudest…” He shook his head, hands on his hips. “Hurry up, will you? I thought we’d better make sure Robin’s not encountered any evil queens with gruesome vendettas. He’s far too nice. He wouldn’t stand a chance, poor bloke.”

“I’m coming down!” Sage shouted frantically, leaping back from the window, and Casimir waved impatiently in a way that meant Hurry up, I want a coffee. Throwing on the first things she could see in her wardrobe—a black turtleneck and green plaid pinafore—she just about managed to find the presence of mind to grab her satchel and lace up her boots before sprinting down the stairs, almost breaking her neck in the process.

“Sage! Madam! Prithee, slow down, will you? You’ve seemed so unwell this past weekend. I’m not sure you should be out of your bed if—”

“Honestly, Maggie, I haven’t the faintest idea whether I am all right or not.” At least it was an honest summation. “I’m sorry, I’ll…I’ll explain at some point.”

Sage tore out of the front door, which, she noted with a hollow dread, was indeed very much still made of gingerbread. She didn’t bother to approach Casimir, instead running straight past him in the direction of Robin’s house, which sat a few roads across from the Equinox Gallery.

Casimir yelled after her. “Oi! Specs, where are you…? What’s the rush?”

“There’s been a change in circumstances,” she replied curtly, struggling to snatch her satchel further up her shoulder as she ran.

“Another chapter, is it? Or you got something out of the book again? Specs, slow down, for the love of—”

“Can’t. I need to make sure of something.”

“Namely?” Casimir asked, exasperated and tugging at the tail of her coat to pull her back.

“Namely, Casimir”—Sage stopped abruptly to turn to her colleague, breathing heavily—“namely that I have in fact put an end to this absolute nonsense.”

“You want it to end? But at the bonfire, you—”

“Of course I do. It’s high time this was all over. I’m certainly not having fun anymore. I’m certainly not finding the whimsy or the wonder in any of this.” She flung out her hands in despair. “Are you?”

Casimir frowned. “I don’t hate this outfit anymore, honestly.”

“It’s not about the outfit, Casimir!” she shouted, exasperated. “It’s so, so much more than that. Magic has changed this place, don’t you see it? It’s affecting things, affecting everyone, affecting you. It’s toying with me, it’s cruel. We had it all wrong…Actually, strike that, you had it all wrong. I was very much correct, as usual.”

Sage began to storm off again, power-walking while Casimir’s long legs kept easy pace beside her. “I told you all along, and now I know it for certain. Lilara’s spell was designed to remind me that magic was not to be trusted.” She said the last word emphatically, then swallowed hard, catching her anger just in time before it ran away from her and she did something stupid, like burst into tears.

“But, Specs…” He tugged at her coat again.

She spun again to face him in a rage. “No, Casimir! We are done here. It was all a mistake. This has come to an end.”

His eyes searched hers before those familiar deep lines of realization appeared between his brows. “You’re saying ‘was’ an awful lot. Have you done something without consulting me? Have you done more magic?”

It wasn’t a lie simply to give him a small, curt nod. She had indeed done more magic. He didn’t need to know that it was the last and final magic she would ever do. Not yet anyway. It would break his heart to discover it.

“But that’s a good thing, isn’t it? I don’t understand what’s changed. If you’re worried about the coven, then…” He scooted in front and ducked his head to her face, determinedly trying to catch her eye for answers, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze.

Sage swallowed. “I can’t think about the coven right now. I can’t think about myself at all. I have to make sure that Laurel and Robin are safe and unharmed and that things are reversing, at least gradually returning to normal.”

Evidently, she had not managed to bring about the abrupt end to the spell that she had hoped. But her sacrifice had to have made at least an inch of difference, surely.

“Once that’s done, then we’ll deal with your…leggings.” She stormed off in the direction of Robin’s house.

“I think you’ll find they’re breeches!” Casimir yelled after her.

Robin’s house was on Poet’s Corner, which, on a normal day, required passing by the Founders’ Fountain, then a pleasant wander through the rose gardens and a sloping right past the Equinox Gallery. But where Sage would usually take a shortcut to head under the bridge and through the dell, she froze at the kerb.