Page 56 of Board Games and Broomsticks

She blinked.

The lake rolled on as before, its surface broken only by the roll of the waves. Whatever she thought she’d seen was gone, but Nyssa was transported back to her childhood. To the day she’d been paddling and seen something shimmering beneath the water. The creature of the lake.

‘You know, Nyssa,’ Elowen’s voice broke Nyssa’s train of thought and she turned to look at the elf once more, ‘you’re more powerful than you think. What you did in the forest … I’ve never felt magic like that before.’

‘I don’t even know how I did that,’ Nyssa admitted, because the way Elowen was looking at her with such admiration, like she was something worth looking at that way, felt undeserved. ‘It didn’t even feel like the power belonged to me. Everything was going dark, and then I felt my grandma’s presence, and then … it just happened.’ Nyssa gestured at the tomes on the small table in front of them. ‘I’ve been looking through Grandma’s old grimoire to try and find any mention of a similar phenomenon, but so far I haven’t come across anything.’

‘Hmmm.’ Elowen’s brow furrowed, the way Nyssa noticed it did whenever the elf was seriously thinking about something. ‘The spring we were at … it was on a ley line convergence, wasn’t it?’

Nyssa nodded. ‘Yes, but I’ve cast on ley line convergences before, and it’s never felt like it did at the spring.’ All witches knew that a ley line convergence was a significant source of power, one that would strengthen their own magic if tapped into, but there had never been any mention of them allowing a witch to tap into someone else’s power.

‘What if that’s because you weren’t tapping into just one convergence, but two?’

It was Nyssa’s turn to furrow her brow. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You said you felt your grandma’s presence, right? Well, there’s an old elven folk tale within my clan that my mother used to tell me: a long time ago, the newly appointed leader of the clan was forced to face a powerful adversary who was trying to seize the clan’s power. It was a challenge he had to face without the clan’s support – something about a curse on his ancestral line that meant only he could stop this foe. His magic alone wasn’t strong enough, so he communed with the spirits for answers.

‘His mother’s spirit appeared, and told him that her power was his power; all he had to do was draw on the familial bond between them in the same way he might draw on the power of a ley line. Afterward, he faced the adversary once more, and defeated them with a power stronger than any he had wielded before. My mother always used to say it was “strong enough to rattle the earth”, but I’m pretty sure she was just taking poetic licence with the story,’ Elowen added, smiling to herself before continuing. ‘My clan – and others – often tell the story to reiterate the importance of family. I’m not sure if it’s even true, and if it is, I have no idea if it would apply to witches. What I do know,’ Elowen said as she looked at Nyssa with that same mix of admiration and longing, ‘is that that magic was unlike anything I’ve ever witnessed. And frankly, Nyssa Hawthorne, you’re unlike anyone or anything I’ve ever met. And not just because of your magic.’

Those words – and the fact that Elowen knew how much Nyssa needed to hear them – had her closing the space between them, lips brushing against hers. It was a soft, tender kiss that made Nyssa shiver, and when Elowen’s tongue pressed questioningly against her lips, her entire body felt as if she’d just been shocked.

This is it, Nyssa’s heart sang as she let herself fall into Elowen’s embrace, more certain than ever of her choice. This is where I belong.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The night of the ritual had come around far too fast.

After Nyssa and Elowen’s intimate moment had been interrupted by the arrival of Alaric (who had been teasing them about it ever since), they’d gotten straight back to work. They’d done a final practice run the evening before that of the full moon, and even without the moon’s added power, Nyssa had been able to feel the magic of the ritual. A thought, unfiltered and raw, had risen in her mind.

It’s going to work.

The certainty of it had stuck with Nyssa for the rest of that evening and throughout the following day. Her confidence was still untarnished as they all gathered on the evening of the full moon in Alaric’s home to share one last meal together before the ritual. Nyssa savoured every bite, every laugh they shared, every story told. This was what they were fighting for tonight.

Alaric caught her eye across the table, and the smile that brightened his face made it clear he was thinking something similar. ‘It’s a magic all of its own, isn’t it?’ he asked.

Nyssa’s brow furrowed. ‘What is?’

A knowing shine flashed across his eyes. ‘Belonging.’

‘Yes,’ Nyssa said, warmth blooming in her chest. ‘Yes, it is.’

Elowen reached under the table to squeeze Nyssa’s hand. The elf was sitting to Nyssa’s left at Alaric’s dining table, which Nyssa was fairly certain was actually a large tree stump. In fact, his entire house looked like they’d stepped right into the heart of a tree. Almost everything – the walls, the floor, most of the furniture – was made of some kind of wood, and dried herbs and flowers hung from various beams on the ceiling. The windows themselves were circular and paned, and a crackling fireplace took up most of the far-right wall. It was a home that could have come straight out of a fairy tale if it weren’t for the oddly modern kitchen and comfortable leather two-piece. Nyssa hadn’t been able to stop herself from asking about the mismatch when she’d arrived earlier that evening, and the druid had simply explained that while he was a man of tradition, there were some things from the twenty-first century that he’d found he simply could not go without.

‘Aww, Ric, I didn’t know you could be so sentimental.’ Liora’s tone was teasing, but Nyssa could have sworn she saw the glint of tears in her eyes.

‘Are you okay, Li?’ Nyssa asked carefully.

‘Yeah, I think so. I’ve been a bit all over the place today. Maybe it’s the magic of the ritual? I don’t know about you, but I still feel a little fuzzy from our latest practice! I think it’s that orb.’ Liora glanced warily at where it was carefully wrapped in cloth on Alaric’s kitchen counter. ‘The magic coming from that thing is intense.’

‘It’s not that bad,’ Elowen said.

‘Maybe not to you – you’re an elf, so you’re probably more tolerant of it, but to us non-elves, it’s pretty extreme. Right, Nyssa?’

Liora and Elowen were both looking at Nyssa for support, and Nyssa looked to Nyx, willing her familiar to save her from the awkward position her friends had put her in. If Nyx sensed her master’s need for help, she didn’t show it. She remained curled into a tight ball on Alaric’s window seat, her soft snores floating through the sudden pause in conversation.

Nyssa swallowed a mouthful of the stew Alaric had made for them, an old, druidic recipe meant to strengthen their resolve. ‘It’s pretty intense. But that’s a good thing!’ she added when Elowen pressed a hand to her chest in a show of hurt. ‘Intense is what we need for this ritual.’

Elowen’s lips twitched into a smile as she gave Nyssa’s hand a squeeze under the table in silent thanks, and for a second, all Nyssa was aware of was the way Elowen’s eyes shimmered and the small dimples at the corner of her mouth—