Chapter Twenty-Eight Lyra
Turns out, eating ice cream in bed after making love is an excellent idea.
As was using that ice cream for more than what would be sanctioned by the judges of Bewitching Bake Off. We’d stayed up wildly too late, laughing and indulging in each other, and collapsed in the early hours of the morning, curling into each other as we slept.
Somehow, Rab’s spell had worked, and despite my uncontained desire for him, the contents of his house had remained exactly as they should be.
“Filming starts at one today,” Rab said, burying his face in my hair as he wrapped his arms around me from the back. “Stay.”
“I can’t,” I said, laughing and leaning back into him.
His arms felt perfect around me, like I was home, and I still couldn’t believe how much time we had missed out on together.
“I need to shower and change. How will that look if I show up to set wearing the same thing as yesterday… minus the stockings?”
“Hot.” Rab turned me to him and slid his mouth over mine. I leaned into him, craving his touch but hating to break this moment.
“Nope, you’ll not distract me.” I laughed up at him and pushed back, my hands caressing his chest of their own accord. He looked down at my hands, eyebrow raised. “Damn it, I can’t stop touching you. I’ve missed you, Rab.”
“Och, lass. I’ve missed you too. When you left, it just…” Rab stepped back and ran a hand through his hair, making a sound like a balloon deflating. “It took the wind right out of my sails. I had a hard time trusting again, after that. Women, at least.”
“And between you and my dad leaving”—I held up a hand when Rab went to speak—“I know that’s not the case now, but I thought you had left—I never dated seriously again. It was easy enough to blame the curse for my having to keep moving on. Not the fact that I wanted to leave before someone left me.”
“Damn it, Lyra.” Rab pulled me close for a hug. “I’d say that I’m upset for all the years you hurt, but a part of me is happy you never got this close to someone else. Not like what we have between us.”
“No,” I admitted, leaning my face into his shoulder and inhaling his soapy scent. “Never like us.”
He held me just like that, rocking slightly back and forth, and happiness filled me as we stood there in his kitchen, Merry and Pippin racing in circles in their pen, the scent of coffee lingering in the air.
This was exactly what I had always wanted.
Rab, a little place to cook in, and a home base where I could stay and make friends and build a community.
The curse had been a convenient excuse to keep running, but now that we finally had a chance to break it, I realized just how much I really wanted to put down roots.
I wanted to bake pies with Marcie.
Argue with my sisters over what to make for Sunday dinner.
Go to holiday-themed parties and be involved in planning community events in Briarhaven year-round.
Settle in with Rab. Maybe even start a family.
I’d always wanted a family. Sloane and Nova had adjusted better to traveling all the time than I had, but I’d craved consistency more than anything else.
Everywhere we’d landed, I’d always decorate and try to make it a home, even when Sloane had griped at me for spending money on things we couldn’t take with us.
At the thought of a wee Rabbie running around, my eyes got a bit misty, and I realized just how far down the line my thoughts had scrambled.
What I needed to do was get home, get in the shower, and pick a new outfit for today’s filming.
They were resetting the set decorations this morning for the final challenge, so we’d be cooking later into the day.
Not that it mattered much, as I glanced outside at the darkness that still hovered over Briarhaven.
“Right, best to crack on.” I pulled back, and with one more quick kiss from Rab and a goodbye to Merry and Pippin, I grabbed my coat and purse and headed to the door. I already knew the inquisition that would be waiting for me when I got home, but I was too happy to really care.
“Are you sure I can’t drive you?” Rab asked, leaning in the doorway with a cup of coffee in his hand. He looked adorably sleep rumpled.
“No, it’s not a far walk, and I like to take in the fresh air.”
Plus, I needed just a moment to myself before my sisters pounced on me and demanded every detail.
The morning was cool but not cold, the kind of crisp October air that nipped playfully at my skin and smelled faintly of woodsmoke and damp leaves.
Overnight rain had left the pavement dark and glossy, leaves on the branches overhead just turning to gold, with some scattered across the street like confetti.
I wandered slowly back home, unconcerned by the breeze tugging at my skirt, enjoying the hush of early morning before Briarhaven fully woke.
Halloween decorations were already out in force.
One house had transformed their garden gnomes into a haunted party—tiny witch hats perched on their heads, cauldrons bubbling with fairy lights, and a gnome-sized banquet laid out on a makeshift wooden table.
From what I could tell, the guests included everyone from a wizard gnome stirring a potion to an elf gnome offering a serene pumpkin-shaped lantern.
Someone had even wired a small speaker beneath the display, and a soft Celtic jig drifted into the morning air, turning the whole scene into a whimsical, slightly chaotic autumn celebration.
Turning down our lane, I paused in front of my childhood home.
Warm light spilled from the front windows, Broca’s unmistakable touch evident in the enormous wreath bedecked with tiny mirrored pumpkins and dangling moon and star charms. A cluster of carved gourds sat grinning on the steps, and enchanted wisps of purple smoke curled lazily from one of them.
We’d had a tough go of it growing up here, but despite everything, I still loved this wee house.
Humming, feeling as relaxed as I’d been in ages, I opened the door to chaos.
“Good—”
“Lyra! Iris is hurt.” Nova’s head shot up from where they were bent over the kitchen counter, and I slammed the door behind me, dropping my handbag and racing across the room. Iris, Broca’s falcon, was a wizened familiar who had been with her for years.
“The owls,” Broca said, fear in her eyes. Her thin shoulders trembled as she held her hands around Iris’s prone body.
Her expression made my heart drop. Broca had always been our North Star.
She was stalwart, pragmatic, and deeply loving.
Her ability to find fun in the mundane was unmatched, and even when our parents were at their worst, Broca had provided the consistency we’d needed from an adult in our lives.
I could count on one hand the number of times I’d seen her this shaken.
“Raven’s on her way,” Sloane said, paging through her grimoire. “But I have a spell now that might help.”
“Do it,” Broca ordered.
“We’ve got to hold our hands over her and visualize a glowing light surrounding her body.”
“Just Sloane,” Broca said, making room for me at the counter. I could barely look at wee Iris, her feathers were all in disarray, and blood marred her wing. “Lyra’s magick is unreliable and Nova doesn’t have hers yet.”
I winced, but she was right. This wasn’t the time to take chances with my misfiring magick. I took the book from Sloane.
“I’ll read it out for you.”
Sloane and Broca clasped hands over Iris, and I found the incantation in the book.
“ ‘Life to limb, and breath to bone, mend what’s broken, make it whole. From brink to bloom, let spirit rise, by earth and heart, this life be tied.’ ”
Soft light, like the warm glow of a candle in the window on a rainy night, bloomed from their clasped hands, and surrounded the falcon. At first, nothing happened, and worry dredged through me. Broca would be distraught without Iris.
And I would be to blame because I hadn’t broken my curse yet.
Then the falcon shifted, a small movement at first, but enough to have my breath catch in my throat.
“It’s working,” Nova hissed and wrapped an arm through mine. I leaned into her, waiting and praying that their magick would be enough to bring wee Iris back from the brink of death.
When the falcon rolled and stumbled awkwardly to her feet, Broca let out the softest cry of relief, and tears filled my eyes.
The falcon held one wing at an awkward angle, but at least she was alive and well.
It was a step in the right direction, and I was certain that if Raven could help heal up my stab wound, she’d certainly be able to assist in setting a broken wing.
And if not her, I had faith Henry could do it.
I was starting to think that Henry could do anything.
“Oh, Iris. I was so worried,” Broca said, reaching out to run a finger down the feathers at Iris’s chest. “I know you’re not fixed yet, but we’ll get you the help you need. Raven’s on the way. It’s going to be just fine, my sweet old gal. Just fine indeed.”
Iris bent and nuzzled her head against Broca’s finger, nipping lightly at her hand with her beak, and the door popped open as Raven came in on the fly. Blue jumped up from his spot on the couch, barking out a soft poof of flame in surprise, and then slumped back when he saw who it was.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I got here as soon as I could. I had to rush a few people out of the shop,” Raven explained, dropping a large leather satchel on the couch. “Let me see her.”
“We just did a rejuvenation spell that I found,” Sloane explained, drawing Raven close. “But her wing still seems broken.”
“Well done, you two.” Raven beamed at Broca and Sloane like they were star pupils. “That’s a spell that requires a level of healing that not many can do.”
“Unless you love the patient,” Broca murmured, still cooing to Iris.
“Also true.” Raven pulled out a few bottles from her satchel. “Can I have a small bowl?”