Chapter 22 #3
“My fellow residents of Ruby Springs,” she begins, her voice carrying easily over the crowd, warm and commanding all at once.
Each syllable is perfectly enunciated, designed to reach every ear and settle into every heart.
“Tonight, we gather as we always have, to honor the legacy of our founder, Ruby Thorne, and the sanctuary she built for all of us.”
A murmur of agreement ripples through the crowd like a wave, heads nodding, smiles spreading across faces both human and otherwise.
“She created this town as a place of refuge,” Lenora continues, her voice rising slightly to embrace the entire square. “A place where we could live freely, without fear of the outside world. A place where our magic is not something to hide, but something to celebrate.”
Applause rises again, stronger and more unified this time, filled with genuine emotion and gratitude. I feel it in my chest, that same pull, that same sense of belonging that has been building since the moment I first set foot in Ruby Springs.
Then her eyes find mine again.
This time, it does not waver. This time, she looks directly at me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
“With that freedom comes responsibility,” she continues, her tone shifting just slightly, enough that I feel the change more than hear it.
The words take on weight, carrying an undercurrent that makes my magic stir uneasily beneath my skin.
“A duty to protect what we have built. To preserve the delicate balance that keeps us safe. To ensure that nothing, and no one, disrupts the harmony we have fought so hard to maintain.”
The words settle over the crowd like a blanket, people nod and whisper their agreement, but I hear something else entirely. I hear the warning meant specifically for me, wrapped in pretty phrases and delivered with surgical precision.
Maceo’s hand finds mine, his fingers intertwining in a gesture of support and solidarity. His warmth grounds me, reminds me that I’m not alone in this. I can feel the town’s acceptance of her words, their trust in her leadership above all else.
My aunt’s eyes never leave mine.
This is my town, her gaze says to me, clear as spoken words. You, niece, are nothing more than a hindrance to be managed.
Applause breaks out again, louder this time, washing over the tense moment and smoothing it into something celebratory, something easy to dismiss. The crowd claps and cheers, completely unaware of the silent battle of wills happening on the stage.
In the eyes of the town, nothing has happened. No one picks up on the fact that the last part of her speech was a carefully crafted warning directed solely at me.
“Ignore her, sweetness,” Lucien’s voice reaches me from across the aisle, pitched high enough that only I can hear it over the applause.
“Let her save face for now,” Ezra adds quietly. “We’ll discuss this later.”
I exhale slowly, forcing my shoulders to relax as the crowd begins to disperse again, the energy shifting back into movement, into laughter, into the pure joy of community celebration. My aunt steps down from the stage with grace, immediately surrounded by well-wishers and supporters.
Everything goes back to normal as the night wears on, and gradually I manage to forget about my aunt’s veiled threats and just enjoy the celebration, surrounded by my men and feeling more connected to this magical community than I ever thought possible.
After a while, the square transforms into an impromptu dance floor as people hoot and shout with joy all around us, the music picks up tempo and draws couples into spinning, laughing embraces.
“I’m going to grab the rest of the stock,” I announce, already stepping back from the booth before anyone can stop me. I didn’t expect to sell much tonight, honestly thought people might avoid my booth, but I’m genuinely surprised by how well I’ve done.
“I’ll come with you,” Maceo offers immediately, already moving to follow me.
“I’ll be fine,” I reply quickly, offering him what I hope is a reassuring smile. “It’s just a quick trip. The shop’s right there.”
I gesture behind us, where Thorne Curiosities sits just yards away, its windows glowing warmly in the festival light.
Lucien studies me for half a second longer than necessary, then nods slowly. “Don’t take too long.”
“I won’t,” I promise, grabbing an empty crate from beneath the table. “Be right back.”
I turn and head back toward the shop, slipping through the crowd. People are too caught up in the music and dancing to pay much attention to one woman with a wooden crate, though I catch a few friendly smiles and nods as I pass.
The moment I step inside Thorne Curiosities, the noise from the festival immediately softens behind me, muffled by solid wood and protective wards. The sudden quiet is almost jarring after the constant hum of celebration, leaving my ears ringing slightly in the comparative silence.
I cross to the back shelves where I know I stocked the extra tinctures earlier this afternoon.
My hands work automatically, reaching for familiar bottles, checking labels without really thinking about it.
Pain relief, sleep aids, protection charms, all the popular items that sold out first tonight.
The crate fills quickly, the weight of glass and carefully brewed liquid making me shift the load to rest against my hip as I reach for additional items.
Satisfied that I have enough inventory to get me through to the end of the night, I turn and make my way toward the front door, already anticipating the warmth and laughter waiting for me outside.
Then I stop, my entire body goes rigid as every instinct I possess rises at once.
The shift is immediate and unmistakable, not a sound or a movement I can see, no this is something deeper that slides along my spine and settles beneath my skin like a warning I do not have to think about to understand.
My protection spell.
Recognition comes instantly, sharp and certain, my body reacts before my mind has the chance to fully catch up as the simple shield Sir drilled into me surges to life with a force I have never felt from it before.
What had once been a quiet, almost gentle awareness now presses insistently through my senses, stronger and more urgent, as though something is actively testing the boundaries of it.
The sensation doesn’t fade. It builds, pulsing through me in rapid succession, each wave more insistent than the last, until my chest tightens with the undeniable awareness that this is not the passive warning I was taught to expect.
This is resistance.
The air behind me shifts in a way that has nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with presence, the space that should be empty now carries weight and intent, something close enough that every nerve in my body sharpens in response.
My grip tightens instinctively around the crate, holding it steady against my hip as my pulse begins to race, awareness snaps into place piece by piece as the realization sits heavily in my chest.
This is not random.
Whoever is behind me knows exactly what they are doing.
Instinct takes over before I can think it through, my body already turning to face the threat pressing against my senses, then something hits me.
The impact is immediate and disorienting, a burst of fine powder striking my face, burning as it floods my eyes and nose, stealing the air from my lungs before I can even react properly.
The world tilts violently, my vision fractures into blinding white as my thoughts scatter, my body fails to respond the way I need it to, the warning in my magic still screams even as everything begins to slip out of reach.
Darkness follows just as quickly, then there is nothing.