Page 95 of Roaring Spell

“We should go outside.” Sakura buttons my shirt for me, her fingers lingering on each closure. “The town is probably wondering if we’re alive.”

“The town knows exactly what we’re doing. The weather has been suspiciously perfect since last night.”

“The weather is not a direct indicator of—” She stops. Considers. “Okay, maybe the weather is a little bit of an indicator.”

“The mist turned pink this morning.”

“It did not.”

“Ask anyone.” I kiss her forehead. “They’ll tell you. Pink mist at dawn. Very romantic. Very obvious.”

She groans, pressing her face into my chest. “The entire town knows we had sex.”

“The entire town has been waiting for us to have sex since the week you arrived.” I duck to catch her gaze. “They’re probably throwing a parade.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Only partially.”

Sakura’s studio has been rebuilt.

I’m not sure when it happened—sometime in the chaos of the past few days, while we were fighting Preservers and claiming each other and generally upending the magical order of things. But here it is: Radiant Aura Studio, looking better than before.

The glass walls gleam. The living vines climb fresh framework. The wind chimes hang silent in the still air—not because they’re broken, but because Sakura’s magic is calm now. Settled. No longer creating phantom breezes and unexpected gusts.

“Who did this?” She stands in the doorway, one hand pressed to her mouth.

“Everyone.” Leire appears from inside, champagne bottle in hand. “Surprise!”

The studio is full of people.

Anouk stands near the salt room, examining new crystals with professional interest. Zeph has commandeered a corner with what appears to be a portable beer station. Aslan leans against the wall beside Leire, wearing the satisfied grin of someone who called it months ago. Rhodes is there too, though he seems uncomfortable with the social nature of the gathering.

And on the reception desk, gifts.

“From Sunny.” Leire gestures at an elaborate cake decorated with a bear and storm clouds, tiny lightning bolts made of sugar crackling between the frosting. “She started working on it the moment she heard about the claiming. Apparently she’s been planning the design for weeks.”

“From the vampires.” Anouk produces a card signed with dramatic flourishes and excessive exclamation points. “‘Congratulations on your claiming! We always knew the weather witch would end up with the poetry bear. P.S.—We’re available for wedding consultations. Our experience spans centuries. —M&T’”

“We’re not—” Sakura starts.

“Not yet.” Leire grins. “But Marcus and Thalia play the long game. They’re already planning the reception menu.”

I pull Sakura against me—natural now, automatic, my arm around her waist like it belongs there. She melts into the touch, her hand finding mine.

“Thank you.” Her voice is thick with emotion. “All of you. This is⁠—”

“What families do.” Anouk’s voice is dry, but her expression is warm. “You’re part of Mistvale now. Officially. The claiming just made it permanent.”

“Speaking of permanent.” Zeph approaches with two glasses of glowing amber liquid. “New batch. Special occasion. Side effects are minimal.”

“What kind of side effects?”

“Mild euphoria. Possible singing. Nothing dangerous.” She grins. “Probably.”

Sakura takes the glass. “At this point, I’ve learned to just accept it.”

“That’s the spirit!” Zeph raises her own glass. “To the bear and his storm! May your coffee deliveries continue and your weather stay romantic!”