Page 45 of Board Games and Broomsticks

Silence descended over Nyssa and the others as they watched the chest for any sign the spell hadn’t fully worked. It was only when the owl on Liora’s shoulder transformed back into its clay form that the quiet was finally broken.

‘Aww, darn. I was hoping Mr Featherton wouldn’t be turned back,’ the bard sighed, cradling the figurine in her hand. ‘Oh, well.’

The comment was so ridiculous with everything that had happened that when Nyssa met the eyes of Elowen and Alaric (who, during Liora’s mourning, had shifted back into human form and pulled his cloak around himself), she burst into hysterical laughter.

She expected the others to look at her as if she’d gone mad (honestly, after everything, she wasn’t sure she hadn’t). Instead, they descended into fits of laughter with her, their eyes watering and their hands clutching their stomachs as they doubled over.

‘I’ll say one thing,’ Alaric said, once he’d managed to catch his breath, ‘life with you around is never boring, Nyssa Hawthorne.’

He hadn’t meant it as an insult. Nyssa knew it from the affectionate smile he wore as he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. But the words still caused Nyssa to remember the other-Nyssa from The Mirror Spell. The one that had been so eager to remind her that everything that had happened to Nighthaven lately – to Liora and Alaric and Elowen – was all because of her.

‘Ah-ah!’ Liora said when Nyssa opened her mouth to apologize. ‘I know that look! This is an apology-free zone. Everything is fine …’ She looked around the café and winced. ‘All right, almost everything. But furniture and glass are easily fixed! We’ll have this place back to normal in no time at all. Come on, let’s get to work!’

Nyssa reached out to stop Liora as she moved to start picking up pieces of a broken vase. ‘Not tonight,’ she said firmly, putting on her best ‘head mage’ voice. ‘You’ve all done so much for me already. You’ve taken care of me every time I’ve needed it, and stood by me even when I haven’t deserved your support. If you won’t let me apologize, at least let me thank you by making you all a nice dinner.’

It was what her grandmother would always do whenever Nyssa was upset. Food feeds the soul, she’d say, while heaping out generous portions of homemade stew or casserole.

‘I’m not going to say no to that,’ Alaric said, patting his stomach; ‘shifting always makes me hungry.’

Nyssa wasn’t sure if that was true, or if the druid was just saying it because he knew how badly Nyssa needed to do something for them, but she offered him a grateful smile all the same. ‘Great. Find whatever seats are still useable, and I’ll work as fast as I can.’

With that, Nyssa scurried off into the back room. She let out a deep sigh the moment the door shut behind her, her knees threatening to buckle as a sob built in her throat.

I will not cry. I will not.

Nyssa wiped at her eyes, took in a deep, defiant breath, and headed towards the small kitchen, where the familiar dance of chopping up ingredients and boiling water helped quiet some of the noise in her mind. She was barely a quarter of the way through her prep for the stew she’d decided to make when the door clicked open, admitting Elowen and Nyx.

Her familiar immediately began to weave around her legs, while the elf shut the door behind her and came to a stop a few inches away from where Nyssa was currently stirring a pot of potatoes, carrots and swede. She leaned in, eyes drifting shut in a way that was awfully distracting as she took in a deep breath through her nose. ‘Mm, that smells amazing.’

‘It’s just a simple stew, but … thank you.’ Nyssa hoped Elowen would assume the flush in her cheeks was from the steaming water and not because the elf had just praised her.

‘Can I help?’ She was too close. Nyssa couldn’t focus on anything with Elowen’s warmth pressed against her, the scent of her causing something pleasant and reassuring to settle in her lower stomach.

‘… It’s fine, you should go and relax with Li and Alaric. I’ve got this.’

‘I know you do,’ Elowen said, voice suddenly serious, ‘and I don’t just mean the cooking. I mean the game, Morven, everything. I know you blame yourself, but when it came down to it, you took charge. You’re more than capable of leading your coven, Nyssa, and if they can’t see that, then they don’t deserve you.’

Nyssa stopped her stirring to look at Elowen. ‘How do you do that so easily?’

The elf tilted her head. ‘Do what?’

‘Believe in me.’

Elowen bit her lip, the gesture drawing Nyssa’s attention to her thin, pretty mouth. Her cheeks were rosy now, eyes slightly glassy as she moved into Nyssa’s space and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Because it is easy,’ she said in a low voice that made Nyssa’s entire body tingle. ‘I’ve seen how much you care, and how no matter what happens, you keep trying. Even when it’s hard. Even when walking away would be far easier. Believing in you, Nyssa Hawthrone, is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.’

It was too much. The exhaustion from using her magic in ways she hadn’t for months. The intensity of Elowen’s words and the way she was looking at her, as if she were something precious to behold. Nyssa wasn’t even sure which of them moved first; all she knew was that her lips were brushing softly, questioningly, against Elowen’s, and Elowen was softening beneath her, lips parting to welcome the kiss. And as she did, everything that had happened tonight – the flying objects, Morven, her own self-doubt – began to fade, dissipating like fog.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Nyssa and her friends had become alarmingly efficient at restoring Teas and Tales to its original state after magical catastrophes.

Following Morven’s latest attempt to break free, it had only taken them a day and a half to get everything back into working order, which Nyssa was immensely relieved about. The people of Nighthaven had been endlessly patient with her temporary closures ‘due to unforeseen circumstances’, but she suspected that sooner or later this patience would start wearing thin.

It was a damp morning in early December, a few days after her third (or was it fourth?) reopening, and she had been about to tuck into one of the cinnamon buns Madame Jeanne had just delivered when she heard a clatter in the back room.

Surely not again, she thought, exhausted at the prospect of having to defend her café against yet another magical threat. Summoning her magic to her fingertips in case she needed to strike quickly, she made her way cautiously to the back room and flung open the door.

Nyssa recoiled immediately as she took in the sizeable owl that was flapping furiously around the tiny room, causing all manner of pots and pans to fall from the shelves that crowded the walls. After everything that had happened with the owl from Familiars – or Mr Featherton, as Liora now insisted they all refer to it – Nyssa was perpetually on edge whenever there was an owl near her. But upon closer inspection, she realized that this was not, in fact, the vicious Mr Featherton. It was the owl Edith used for all her coven correspondence.