Page 21 of Board Games and Broomsticks

Edith Kelster

Interim Head Mage of The Coven of the Sacred Owl

Nyssa’s cup of tea hung suspended halfway to her mouth, a knot of frustration lodged in her throat. Who was Edith to advise her on anything? To suggest she might ‘improve’ on her performance? Nyssa’s eyes flicked through the letter once more, lingering on that final line.

I am equally certain that you will be grateful to have more time to prepare.

Nyssa could almost hear Edith’s condescending delight ringing in her ears as she read the words over and over, the letter shaking in her hand. Nyx hopped on to the table, pawing at the paper until Nyssa finally put it down, taking a deep breath that did nothing to quell the tangle of emotions in her chest.

Edith’s words had soured the sweet tea she’d been drinking so badly that she dumped the rest of it into the sink before throwing the letter into the fireplace.

Blood pounding in her ears, Nyssa snatched up her broomstick and satchel and threw open her front door. She stepped into the garden, and, barely even giving Nyx time to climb aboard, pushed herself forcefully from the ground, soaring into the grey October sky and steering towards the café. As the damp autumn air whipped at her face, Nyssa couldn’t stop herself from mulling over Edith’s letter yet again. If the mage had her way, she’d delay giving Nyssa a chance to prove herself for as long as possible. Long enough, no doubt, for her to try to prove to the rest of the coven that she was a better choice for the position of head mage.

‘The snake,’ Nyssa muttered to herself angrily.

Nyssa was clutching the handle so tightly that her knuckles were turning white, and she could feel the broomstick vibrating beneath her as frustration coursed through her chest. Lisabeth’s voice came to her then. Safe flying requires a sound mind, her grandma had always cautioned when Nyssa had first been learning to fly.

She knew if she didn’t pull herself together she wouldn’t be able to control her broom, so she gently eased her grip and inhaled deeply, willing the thoughts racing round her head to slow down. Gradually, the broom stilled beneath her, and Nyssa was able to focus her mind on the route to the café. As she descended carefully to the street on which Teas and Tales resided, crisp orange leaves flying up around her as she touched down to the ground, the pulse of irritation was still ticking beneath her skin. But alongside that frustration, another feeling was mounting inside her.

Panic.

She unlocked the café and made her way into the back room to safely deposit her broomstick and coat, before returning to the front to begin brewing the first pots of the day.

‘She surely can’t get away with it, Nyx,’ Nyssa murmured as her familiar wound her way around Nyssa’s legs. ‘Someone at the covenstead is bound to see what Edith is trying to do by delaying – Prim or Kilan or someone will realize, right? But maybe … Oh, I don’t know, maybe she would be a better head mage than me.’

Nyx mewed in protest, rubbing her head soothingly up and down Nyssa’s calf as she began wiping down the counter.

‘I mean, it’s not like my track record is looking great at this stage, is it, Nyxalia? Maybe Edith was right, maybe I should be grateful for the extra time to prepare …’ Nyssa went on, worries building as her chest tightened. She scrubbed at the counter more vigorously, trying to put all her anxious energy into the action, but she couldn’t stop the tears welling in her eyes.

Sensing Nyssa’s mounting panic, Nyx quickly leapt up to the counter, bopping her head against Nyssa’s until she put down the cloth and pulled her familiar into her arms. Nyx purred deeply as Nyssa nestled her face into the black fur, willing away the all too familiar insecurities.

After a few minutes, Nyssa found her breathing returning to normal and gently set Nyx down. I’m okay, she reminded herself, I’m just overthinking things. It will all be okay. She just had to get through the day’s work.

Mercifully, the morning rush of Nighthaven residents eager for a cup of tea before they went on their way to work proved a highly effective distraction, soothing some of Nyssa’s worries.

As the stream of customers slowed to a trickle, though, her anxieties became louder once more. She chewed her lip as she leaned against the counter, lost in her thoughts as she gazed into the inky depths of the ceiling.

‘Ohhh, you big cheater!’ Liora’s shrill shout forced Nyssa from her musings. Now that the rush had passed, Alaric had roped the bard into a round of Lost Treasures, an enchanted game that rewarded the winner with a physical manifestation of one of the games prizes. Alaric, whose lap was currently Nyx’s seat of choice, held up a shimmering crystal with a wide, handsome grin.

‘Don’t be a sore loser, Li. I won fair and square.’

Despite her insistent worries, Nyssa couldn’t help but smile as she watched the scene unfold. It was becoming a near-regular occurrence for Alaric and Liora to fall out over accusations of cheating, and Nyssa had found herself thoroughly enjoying her fiery friends’ confrontations each week.

‘You did not! You distracted me with your stupid story. I demand a rematch – and this time, we play in complete silence!’ Liora turned her angry gaze on Nyssa. ‘I don’t trust him to follow my rules, so can you enchant him so that he can’t speak?’

‘I’m not going to do so without Alaric’s permission.’

‘Which you absolutely do not have!’ the druid proclaimed.

And even if you did have it, you probably wouldn’t be able to cast the enchantment, the cruel voice in the back of her mind whispered. Nyssa forced herself to ignore it, giving a small shrug at Liora’s pleading look. ‘Sorry, Li. You’ll just have to beat him using your own—’

A loud crash cut off Nyssa’s words. She turned to see one of her enchanted teapots in pieces on the floor, the water which had come out of it so scalding that steam was actually coming off the rug. Clara, daughter of the owners of The Pixie’s Grove, was brushing shards of porcelain from her long blonde hair, a furious scowl pinching her usually pretty face.

‘What kind of botched magic do you use here?’ she demanded. There were small, red welts on the bare skin of her arms, and Nyssa immediately enchanted a cloth to soak itself in ice-cold water and tend to the woman’s burns. Instead, the cloth remained lifeless on the countertop, and the tap she’d enchanted to turn on did so with such ferocity that water sprayed all over Liora, who had rushed to brew Clara a fresh pot of tea.

No, no, no.

Nyssa’s breath caught in her throat. Everyone in the store was looking at her, waiting for an explanation she couldn’t give. Not without admitting that her coven had been right about her being a failure all along. Her hands were trembling and she clamped her eyes shut, fighting to feel even a flicker of magic at her fingertips, anything so that she could right the incantations that were failing around her.