Rowan
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Farrah whispers, looking at Aspen with wide eyes. “Are you sure you can’t just…? I mean, you’re probably better at this than I am.”
“It has to be you.” Aspen sighs softly and shakes her head. As disappointed as she seems to be, she’s been patient with Farrah. More than I have been. “Reversing a hex is easier than making one, and you seemed to do that so effortlessly. What are you worried about?”
Seth covers his mouth to hide his laughter. At least one of us is amused.
“I haven’t cast any spells in two weeks,” Farrah says.
Aspen squeezes her shoulder. “That’s not so long. You’re a natural, darling. Stop holding yourself back.”
It’s been a week since the Frost and Fern festival, and Farrah and Aspen have had plenty of time to plan for this. Seth and I have gathered around Ozan’s shop with them after hours, all too much like the time we originally found out about the hex.
The past week hasn’t been perfect, but Seth and Farrah’s conversation seems to have lessened the hex to where it’s been manageable. Now, it’s time to get rid of it. For good.
Farrah moves onto her knees and begins her salt circle, but she stops, glancing at me. “I’m really sorry about everything—”
“Please. Stop apologizing,” I say. It isn’t the first time she’s done so, and while I don’t doubt her sincerity, words can only do so much. It’s time for action. “If anyone knows about magic gone wrong, it’s me. When we were trying to break the hex, I burned poor Seth.”
He winces. “That one hurt more than the hex, let me tell you.”
“You aren’t the one who sprained an ankle,” I snap playfully.
Farrah chuckles and tucks a piece of her straw-like hair behind her ear. Something tells me she’s trying not to apologize again, which I appreciate. Aspen sets smoky quartz points around her, and I stand back as Seth joins her in the circle.
There they stand, the two of them, surrounded by salt and protective crystals. Aspen passes Farrah a dark tincture, and Farrah clears her throat.
“The past is the past,” she says. “So let it stay there. Release this hex and let this man love without fear.”
Not the strongest of spells—and written in English rather than the language of spellcasters, which is unusual—but it may do the job. Love witches have more mundane spells anyhow, and at least we know her intentions plainly.
Try as I might, I’m not ready to trust Farrah Poole just yet.
She dots Seth’s forehead with the tincture, and magic rises around them.
The shadows that have been around Seth wrap around him harder for a moment, and he gasps. But Aspen, the only one with a history of such spells, is unflinching.
And the magic drains from him. Finally. Sinking into the dark stones until it disappears.
“That”—he clutches his throat—“was surprisingly easy.”
“I told Rowan from the start.” Aspen lights a rosemary bundle and begins cleansing the crystals. “The easiest way to break the hex is to find the one who cast it. And Farrah wrote that spell herself.”
Despite all the pain Farrah has caused, Aspen still sounds proud of her. I bite my tongue.
Finding the witch was the hard part, and I still don’t know whether to be more frustrated with Seth or Farrah. But perhaps Farrah is right. Let the past be the past.
“How are you feeling?” I ask Farrah, turning to her. “Are you truly ready to move on? We’re still neighbors, and I’d like to be friendly.”
“Oh, but I was never angry with you!”
I tilt my head and lift my eyebrows, letting my look of disbelief speak for itself.
Farrah deflates and nods, her shoulders slumping. “I’m ready to move on. I have a lot to figure out now that my goddess has left me, so… my love life is the least of my worries.”
“She’ll be back.” Aspen rests a hand on Farrah’s shoulder.
“She will,” I say. “And it’s all right to take a break from your magic. It can be refreshing.”
“Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I definitely feel refreshed.” Seth cracks his neck and groans. “What do you guys think? Ice cream? I think the shop just opened for the season.”
“Yes,” Aspen squeals, scrambling away and grabbing her purse. “Let’s hurry before they close for the day.”
Farrah looks down at her feet as we leave the shop, and she shuffles in the other direction. I exchange a look with Seth.
“Hey,” he calls out. “Where are you going?”
Farrah turns to look at us, smiling sheepishly. “My apartment is that way—”
“What?” I lift an eyebrow. “You don’t like ice cream?”
“I do. I mean, of course, I do. Who doesn’t?”
“Then come on.” I tilt my head and walk forward, expecting Farrah to follow.
She does. And for the first time in a while, Seth and I can hold hands without the worry of a curse. Farrah’s smile? It doesn’t even flicker.
All is well.