Page 33 of Board Games and Broomsticks

Slowly, like an ember coaxed to life, the shield began to form. It took a few tries for it to stick, and when it did, it was dimmer than it had been before. But it was there, and that was a start.

‘And s-summon Earth, Ai … Air, Water a-and Fire,’ she ground out, her jaw trembling from the effort, ‘to fo-form this b-blockade.’

The shield glowed a little brighter as Nyssa put all of her focus into visualizing the shape of it, a large, perfect half-circle curving around her body. The only time she let her attention waver was when she glanced down at the small pocket watch on the table. Ten seconds gone. Fifteen. Ancestors, why was time moving so damn slowly?

The shield flickered as a fresh jolt of pain caused Nyssa’s grip to tighten enough that the sharp edges of the brooch pierced her flesh. She gritted her teeth, fresh tears stinging her eyes, and let out a slow breath through her nose. In and out. Focus on the memory. The details.

What had her grandma smelled like? Beneath the ever-present aroma of her magic, there had been the kiss of lavender soap that always tickled Nyssa’s nose if she breathed it in too deeply. She could almost smell it mixing with her own magic as she took breath after breath and channelled her power into maintaining her shield. Could almost feel the comforting presence of her grandmother at her side, whispering words of encouragement as she had always done during Nyssa’s childhood magic lessons.

That’s it. Just a little more.

Nyssa knew the words were nothing more than a memory, but they felt so real, so powerful, that her own magic surged in response. The shield flared, and for a second, Nyssa couldn’t feel anything beyond the warmth of power beneath her skin. She was so absorbed in focusing on that feeling, on using it to keep the pain at bay, that she didn’t notice the clock hand passing the sixty-second mark until the second candlewick on the candelabra burst into flame.

Nyssa immediately let the shield drop and threw the brooch on to the table, where it landed with a satisfying clink. She sank back into her chair, her breathing heavy, her clothing sticking to her now-sweat-covered body. The pain still lingered, leaving her exhausted and in dire need of a hot, soothing bath. And yet the pain wasn’t the reason for the fresh tears tumbling down her cheeks.

Nyx bumped her head into Nyssa’s chin, her eyes wide with worry, and Nyssa let out a small, snotty chuckle. ‘They’re good tears,’ she said. In the past, she’d have tried to stop them. The covenstead was no place for such a show of emotion. But … she wasn’t at the covenstead now. There was no one to pretend for.

And so, as she sat in the attic, her mind full of fond memories and her magic finally starting to feel like hers again, Nyssa let her tears fall.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Nyssa arrived at her café the next morning to find Alaric, Elowen and Liora already waiting outside for her, seemingly as eager to solve their Morven problem as she was.

‘Li mentioned you found something written in old druidic – can I take a look?’ Alaric asked once they were inside and huddled around the table near the hearth. Autumn was slowly turning to winter now, and Nyssa shifted closer to the crackling warmth of the flames to thaw the ice in her veins. She still felt raw from the night before, both magically and emotionally, but she’d also awoken at the crack of dawn with a renewed sense of determination that had her scribbling more notes.

‘The first part mentions something about an elven artefact,’ she said, placing the tome open on the page she’d bookmarked, along with the new notes she’d taken. ‘I cross-referenced it with a few other tomes, and there were two brief mentions of this elven artefact, alongside how to use it in druidic ritual. One of the tomes specifically refers to the artefact as an “orb” – if my translation of the elven is correct, of course – so I figure if we can find the orb, and determine the ritual, we might be able to combine them with a high-level imprisonment spell to trap Morven for good.’ She tapped the passage she’d found with Liora. ‘This bit here mentions that the artefact was one that can “offer great protection” – does it ring any bells, El?’

Elowen pursed her lips. She looked particularly pretty today, with her short hair blown about her face and her cheeks pinked from the cold. It was frustratingly distracting. ‘Maybe – the elven clans have a lot of artefacts, and many of them can be used for protection, but …’ She paused to look over the passage of text. ‘Hmm, it mentions the artefact was hidden. That means it’s rare, and powerful … which doesn’t narrow it down much, I’m afraid.’ Elowen let out a small sigh and glanced up at Alaric, whose brow was growing increasingly furrowed as his eyes roved over the page. ‘Does it say anything else, Ric?’

When Alaric didn’t immediately reply, Liora threw a cushion at him. ‘Earth to Alaric!’

The druid caught the ‘weapon’ and tossed it on to the ground, where Nyx, who had been sitting beside the hearth, immediately laid herself on top of it with a pleased chirp. ‘I heard you! This druidic is old – older than the kind we learned in my clan. It’ll take me a while to decipher it, I’m afraid.’

Nyssa tried not to let her disappointment show. ‘It’s fine.’

‘I’ll reach out to an old friend from my clan in the meantime,’ Elowen said, ‘they might be able to find out more about this artefact.’

Nyssa offered her a grateful smile. ‘Thank you.’

Without the translation, they had no choice but to put their research on hold. The waiting might have driven Nyssa mad if it weren’t for the reopening of Teas and Tales. Somehow, the accident she’d thought would drive the citizens of Nighthaven away had only made them more eager to show their support, and Nyssa’s days had become so busy that she had no time to dwell on Morven.

The same couldn’t be said for her feelings for Elowen.

It was impossible not to dwell on them. The elf was there most days, beautiful and elegant as she smiled at customers and helped explain the rules of various board games, her laughter tinkling like a bell through the café.

Thankfully, things between them had fallen back into the same easy, natural rhythm they’d had before Elowen had healed her wounds. And despite Nyssa’s confused feelings, she’d found herself laughing alongside her when Alaric would make one of his dry, sarcastic jokes, or sharing silent, just-for-them smiles when Gwen would bring in a new selection of tea blends for them to serve.

The roster of regulars at Teas and Tales was also ever-growing: Madame Jeanne had taken to staying for at least half an hour to savour a cup of tea after delivering a fresh batch of cinnamon buns each morning, while Azalea often brought fresh flowers to decorate the tables and ended up spending a few hours playing games with Alaric or Liora.

There was also the growing group of younger magical folk who had begun spending more and more time at the café, led by Felix and Torin’s example. Nyssa knew she wasn’t meant to have favourites, but she was particularly fond of Mr Lefton’s much nicer niece, Amarys, who had heard of her uncle’s incident with Nyx and declared she’d simply had to meet the familiar herself. There was also the sweet little teenage half-elf named Fen who Nyssa was sure was somewhat taken with Torin.

‘Look at how Fen laughs at everything Torin says,’ Nyssa had murmured to Liora and Gwen one sunny Tuesday morning from behind the counter.

‘He’s sweet, don’t get me wrong, but he definitely isn’t that funny,’ Gwen chimed in, nodding in agreement.

Liora cast a furtive glance over to the corner where Torin was leaning over the small coffee table, explaining to Fen, Felix and Amarys the rules of Brownie’s Revenge – a roleplaying game in which each player gained the appearance and voice of their chosen goblin and had to try to figure out which of them was the one out for revenge.

Liora’s eyes widened slightly as she took in the scene, a smile pulling at Gwen’s lips.