CHAPTER EIGHT #3
Warmth cut through the cold in Nyssa’s gut.
Elowen wasn’t a witch, and she wouldn’t be able to help with the actual magic itself, but just having her there for support was already helping Nyssa’s magic settle.
‘I just need you to stay by my side and keep me calm. Enchantments are usually easy to break, but ones that have gone awry can be stubborn. I’ll need to fully unravel them from their core, which is … tricky.’
She’d have to use a similar spell to the one she’d used to unweave the curse around the ring, a task that, before she’d scalded Clara and destroyed most of her crockery, she’d be confident in undertaking. But if even her simple enchantments were going wrong …
‘None of that,’ Elowen gently scolded, clearly seeing the direction of Nyssa’s thoughts on her face. ‘Just give it a try, and if it doesn’t work first time around, we’ll close early and give it another go without so much pressure.’
Ancestors, when had she become this person. The Nyssa Hawthorne of a few months ago, the one who had imprisoned Morven Delamorte and become the youngest head mage in the Sacred Owl’s long history, wouldn’t even recognize herself now.
Get it together.
Nyssa steeled herself and scooped Nyx into her arms, holding her close both for comfort and for the boost a physical connection with her familiar always provided.
Her magic flowed beneath her skin like a river before settling in her fingertips, soothing and gentle this time.
When it did, Nyssa reached for the imprint of magic her enchantments had left in the other room.
Sweat beaded on her brow almost immediately, followed by a surge of nausea and weakness that left her legs shaking.
She braced a hand against the wall, jaw clenched, and slowly began pulling the enchantments apart.
She focused on the feeling in her fingertips, willing the fizz of her magic to build there before she cast.
‘Magic cast and magic bound;
I will you now to be unwound.’
There was a moment of resistance, a moment when Nyssa feared the awry magic of the enchantments would manage to overcome her spell. But then, slowly, the haze of magic over everything Nyssa had enchanted began to disperse.
After a second of no more screeching teapots or frantic yelling, Elowen said, ‘Well, it sounds like it worked.’
Nyx gave an encouraging headbutt against her chin. Nyssa cradled her to her chest, took a deep breath, and slowly opened the door to the back room just enough for her to be able to peer into the shop.
The kettles were blessedly still and silent, the steam coming from them a leisurely wisp rather than a scorching stream like lava.
The shards of teacups were slowly knitting themselves back together before returning to their original positions on tables and, although the floor of the shop was now rather damp, the tap that had been relentlessly spouting water had trickled down to nothing more than a quiet drip, drip, drip.
None of the other enchantments had gone awry (yet), but Nyssa carefully disenchanted them just in case. Thankfully the fairy lights were still hanging, but the almost fog-like lights inside of them had blinked out, leaving them dull and lifeless once more.
Nyssa breathed deeply, focusing on how, for now, at least, the crisis was over.
And as she closed the door with a sigh of relief, she realized that perhaps Liora’s theory was right: whatever was going wrong with Nyssa’s magic was connected to her emotions.
The second she’d gotten them under control, she’d been able to undo her enchantments.
Thank the ancestors.
‘So?’ Elowen asked. ‘Did it work?’
‘It did.’ The smile that overtook Elowen’s face had Nyssa returning it with one of her own. Elowen had believed in her, and Nyssa had come through. If she could learn to keep her emotions separate from her magic, then perhaps she’d be able to practise freely again after all.
‘I knew you could do it!’ Elowen said, and before Nyssa could truly process what she was doing, Nyssa pulled the elf into her arms, encircling her trim, toned waist with a tight grip.
‘Thank you for believing in me,’ she whispered, her chin resting on Elowen’s shoulder. She sucked in a deep breath, letting her scent – woody with a hint of spice and something that reminded Nyssa of the forest after it rained – envelop her.
After a brief hesitation, Elowen’s arms came up to wrap around Nyssa’s waist, her touch so gentle it sent goosebumps along Nyssa’s spine. ‘Of course.’
Nyssa would need to return to the front of the café soon. Clara deserved an explanation (and probably the bribe of free cinnamon buns for life) for what Nyssa’s wonky enchantments had put her through. She’d also need to clean up, somehow re-enchant everything, and come clean to Alaric.
There was so much to do. And yet for now, all Nyssa could focus on was Elowen’s embrace. On her scent in her nose and the brush of her fingers against her back.
Nyssa’s problems were far from resolved. But with Elowen holding her like this, the prospect of solving them didn’t feel quite so daunting.
Let Edith delay things as long as she wants; right now, maybe this is where I belong.