Page 31 of The Hearth Witch’s Guide to Spite & Spellwork

“If that’s what you miss, yes.”

Saga’s cheeks burned. “I can’t do that. That’s weird.”

“This house being such a paragon of normalcy,” Leigh drawled sarcastically. She must have clocked that this tactic was not enough to put Saga at ease, because she shifted her focus. “All right, if the direct approach feels too painful… It’s now October, it’s getting colder by the day, and you still have yet to give her that scarf you made her weeks ago.”

Saga’s eyes darted to the golden-yellow bundle sitting on top of the low bookshelf by the door, tied with a blue satin ribbon. She sucked the inside of her cheeks and looked back at her tea. “You don’t know it’s for her.”

“It’s been sitting there, practically wrapped like a present, for over a month. I know you’ve been out with your school friends, it’s too early for Yule, and you’ve placed it so conveniently by the door as if to have it at the ready if you hear someone in the hallway… Who else would it be for?”

Saga peeked at her aunt guiltily.

“Give me some credit.”

Saga took another hefty swig of her tea. “What’s the third law?”

Leigh’s eyebrow arched in amusement, but she obliged Saga without further comment. “Magic shall not impose on another’s mind or body.”

“How is that different than controlling someone’s mind or body?”

“It means you can’t transform someone without their consent, or read their mind—or invade their dreams,” Leigh answered with a shrug. “So, no turning anyone into toads or anything else that sounds remotely fun.”

Saga laughed. “Did you turn anyone into a toad?”

“A toad?” Leigh poured them both more tea from the pot. “I’m a Hudson witch and the wife of a homicide detective. There are far worse things I can do to anyone who crosses me.” She grinned and sat back with a tartlet. “Which is a lovely segue to the fourth law: Magic shall not perpetrate malice.”

“In case you were killing, controlling, and transforming benevolently?”

Leigh shrugged. “One could argue not all of those are done with specific malicious intent.”

“Argued by magical lawyers to magical judges in their magical court?” Saga joked.

“Mm.” Leigh confirmed. There was a tightness to the way she held herself and continued at a brisker pace. “Fifth and last law: Magic shall not shift the sands of time.”

Saga stared at her. “That’s possible?”

“Not easily,” explained Leigh. “It requires an incredible amount of magic to accomplish anything that reaches past the last thirty seconds, and I suspect most wouldn’t know it could be accomplished at all if there wasn’t a law forbidding it… But it isn’t impossible.”

Saga sat with that thought for a moment. “Has anyone ever tried?”

“I’m sure many have tried. Imagine time is a river, and to go back, you must swim against a great current because our time is linear and always rushing forward. So, much like how you would need a powerful boat to push through that current, you’d need a powerful source of magic in order to move backward even a little—let alone years.”

Saga nodded in thought. Fey were particular about words. There were countless myths and fairy tales depicting downfalls due to poorly worded deals between fey and mortals. So the specificity of this law’s wording snagged on her curiosity. “Magic shall not shift the sands of time—does that mean traveling itself is not forbidden, just changing past events?”

Leigh’s eyes cut to her.

It startled a nervous laugh out of Saga. “I’m not going to.”

It took a moment for Leigh to relax, as if she had truly believed Saga might be tempted to break one of these laws. “Strictly speaking, but the likelihood of your presence causing a change purely by chain reaction is…” She shook her head. “There is no use guessing about what we can never know.” It was uncharacteristic for her to shut down speculation.

Still, Saga was not about to push it. “Boiled down, these laws just sound like ‘don’t use magic to harm.’”

“If it harm none, so let it be.” The recitation was tired, and Leigh sounded bitter. Her eyes drifted, focusing on something beyond Saga’s apartment walls.

“Do they?” Saga prompted. “Let it be, if it harms no one, I mean?”

“Most of the time.” It was, at best, a discomforting answer, an answer that beckoned only more questions and made Saga’s stomach churn as it had when Riddle insisted they not mention Saoirse’s grimoire. Her family, she was learning, had too many secrets.

And Leigh’s lack of elaboration made Saga bold. “What aren’t you telling me?”