Chapter Six Lyra
I was not remotely fine.
I’d spent two days trying to sort out my magick in the hours after my shifts at Mystic Munchies, and to my dismay, nothing was working. If anything, things were only getting worse. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to magick my way through a simple recipe.
Everything went wrong. It was basically Opposite Day in my kitchen.
If I needed a half teaspoon of cinnamon, it put a whole teaspoon in.
If I needed seventy-five grams of butter, it put in a hundred and fifty.
If I wanted something melted, it hardened.
If I tried to make something sweet, it went spicy.
But… but… I had found that Ruth was right.
If I thought about the opposite of what I wanted, then I could muddle along, though the doubling measurements were tricky.
The problem with that was it required me to do so for every step of a recipe.
Which was not only deeply chaotic, but also impossible for me to keep straight in my brain.
I was used to cooking by loosely following a recipe, going on instincts alone, and now I had to carefully read each step and then try to pick apart what the reverse would be.
This was never going to work.
It’ll be okay.
Ruth curled into a ball on the windowsill, peering out into the darkness, her wings shimmering in the overhead light.
“You keep saying that, but I’m having a hard time seeing how it will be. At the very least, I can’t go to the Mabon festival like this. I’m supposed to help with food for half the town tonight. I’m going to be the laughingstock of Briarhaven and reality television.”
No, you won’t. Everybody falls in love with you.
“How would you know that? You’ve only been with me for a few days.”
It’s easy enough to see. Plus, we’re connected, Lyra. You’ve got a good heart. That trait makes you pretty damn lovable. Ruth pulled out her sword and began to file one of her nails. I winced.
“I don’t know how you can be equal parts scary and adorable at the same time.”
Ruth flashed me a mousy smile that really was just baring her teeth, adding to the more terrifying aspect of her personality.
I like to keep people on their toes.
“Well, I’m glad you’re on my side. I just really don’t know what I’m going to do. The festival is literally about balance and harvest and gratitude. I’m over here freezing soup and exploding cakes.”
“What you’re going to do is get pampered,” Sloane said from the couch, having stayed over last night because she knew I was stressing out.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“Your glam squad for the Mabon festival,” Sloane sang. She trailed to the door and opened it to reveal Raven, massage table in her hands, Tam holding a makeup kit, and Felicity with about a bazillion hairbrushes and hairpins overflowing in her bag.
I zeroed in on Tam. Her skin glistened like she’d run here, and I’d never once seen her wear a dab of makeup in the entire time I’d known her.
“You’re on makeup?”
“I dated a girl once who was a makeup artist. Just because I don’t wear it doesn’t mean I don’t know all the tricks.” Tam winked at me. “You’re the High Priestess of Snacks tonight. Can’t have you turning up to the festival looking like you’ve wrestled a bag of flour.”
“Stop it,” Felicity breathed, hand to heart, as she bent and brought her face close to Ruth. “Aren’t you just the most darling, sweetest, cutest little… Eeeek!”
Ruth brandished her sword, and Felicity jumped back.
“A ninja mouse? Badass.” Tam gave Ruth an approving nod.
“She’s a fluttermouse. Her name is Ruth, and she is equal parts cuddly and terrifying. What she is to you depends entirely on how you treat her.”
Raven put the table down, drew her hands together like she was praying, and smiled. “It’s an honor to meet you, Ruth. Blessed Mabon.”
I like her.
“Aye, Raven’s a good one,” I said.
“I’ve always liked mice,” Tam observed, bringing two fingers to her forehead in a salute. “Smart, empathetic little creatures. Excellent taste in swords.”
I like her too.
Raven unfolded the massage table, moving it so it ran alongside the dining table, and pointed to it.
“Make yourself comfortable, our champion baker. I hear we’ve got some tension to work out before you go feed the entire village under a full moon.”
“And then we’re going to make you the prettiest forest fairy in all the land.” Felicity beamed and looked over to the discarded ingredients that lined the kitchen countertops. “No brekkie on yet? No problem, no problem. I’ll just get that sorted, if you don’t mind.”
I waved her to it. It wasn’t like I was going to be of any use in the kitchen if my magick kept misfiring.
Swallowing down the fear that threatened to make panic choke my throat, I pulled off my jumper and climbed on the table in the leggings and tank I wore, burying my face in the open circle at the end of the table.
“This good?” I asked.
“Aye. No need to get naked with the whole crew running about. This isn’t that kind of harvest festival,” Raven said dryly.
In moments, Broca’s and Nova’s voices joined the conversation, disco music took up in the background, and the scent of bacon wafted through the air. Raven’s hands were like magick at my neck, and slowly the tension began to ease from my shoulders.
We were heading into the forest tonight, and I was already regretting my decision to help Sloane with the food preparations.
Outside the kitchen window, the trees at the edge of the Briarhaven woods danced in the wind, leaves tipped with the first hints of autumn gold.
By tonight, those same trees would be wrapped in twinkle lights and floating candles, the whole forest transformed into a glowing river of celebration.
The Mabon festival hadn’t happened for several years now, and Sloane was determined to bring the tradition back, even if it meant she had to host it herself.
It was a great excuse for the town to drink mulled cider, dance until their feet hurt, and pretend the witches weren’t vaguely terrifying.
This year, though, it was more than that.
It was also the first time the town had invited the dragons who lived in the hills outside Briarhaven to join the party and they’d accepted.
Dragons. At our festival. Doing a fire-breathing light show as the grand finale. And I just had to keep everyone fed.
No pressure.
“Hey, Lyra. Wake up.”
I started, realizing I had drifted off. Turning, I blinked up as Raven’s face blurred and then came into focus.
“Wow, your hands are magick. I can’t believe I fell asleep.”
“You clearly needed it. Hopefully that helped and you’ll feel better for tonight.” She squeezed my shoulder. “And if your magick acts up, we’ll improvise. It’s what witches and bakers do.”
Sitting up, I swung my legs over the side of the table.
Not only did I feel rested, but my optimism had returned. There was no point in panicking about something that I couldn’t control… yet. Everyone was right. Things were going to be just fine. I just needed to take it a day at a time, or in my case, spell by misfiring spell.
“You know what I think my favorite part of tonight is going to be?” I asked everyone in the room. Half the people were sitting at the dining table, while Sloane and Nova were sprawled on the couch.
“What’s that?” Nova asked.
“Seeing Sloane’s reaction to her festival dress.”
Sloane’s face dropped and she groaned. “Damn it, Lyra. I hope you’re not putting me in something scandalous. It’s chilly out there. I refuse to freeze my arse off for aesthetics.”
“Oh, I’m one hundred percent putting you in something scandalous. It’s a sacred sister duty. I want Knox to swallow his tongue when he sees you in the firelight.” I chuckled as Sloane’s expression swung between annoyance and curiosity.
“First, brunch,” Broca instructed, bringing my attention to the food on the table. “Then we tart Sloane up for the equinox.”
“Ohhh, tart.” Nova looked at me. “Is that acceptable or is that another tool of the patriarchy?”
“I’ll allow it.” I grinned at Nova and slid off the table. “But only because tarts are delicious.”
By the time everyone had their dresses on, I’d mostly pushed my worries aside.
It was hard not to, between the mimosas that someone had poured, the music bouncing around in the background, and the endless gossip about everyone in town—we’d had ourselves a proper pre-festival girls’ day.
Even Deidre, one of our busier Charms members, had shown up at one point, taking a break in between house showings, and had promised she’d make it out to the clearing later.
The only coven member not in attendance was Mandy Meadows, and Felicity just shrugged when I asked after her.
I made a mental note to go visit her this week. Enough was enough. It had been some time since Sloane had taken over running the Charms. Mandy needed to stop hiding out.
“Oh, Lyra.” Broca gasped as Nova finished tying the laces of my dress and I turned to the room. “You look stunning.”
My festival dress was different from the sequined ball gown I might have worn to a castle party. I’d gone full forest witch.
It was off-the-shoulder, the bodice a deep, rich plum that hugged my curves before flaring into layers of tulle and chiffon that shifted between blackberry and smoke.
Tiny embroidered leaves and stars trailed down the skirt like falling constellations.
I’d had it specially made after calling in a favor from an ex-boyfriend of mine who worked at a high-end fashion house in Italy.
It wasn’t always easy to find clothes that suited me as a plus-sized woman, but he had always championed my body.
“It’s not the body’s job to show off the clothes, dolcezza mia,” Anton had told me once, espresso in hand. “It is the job of the clothes to show off the body.”
He’d been one of the first to convince me that confidence overruled anything else when it came to how I presented myself to the world. My size never mattered. Since then, I’d dressed my body how I liked, and didn’t give another thought to thick thighs or wobbly arms.