CHAPTER TWENTY
Nyssa and her friends had become alarmingly efficient at restoring Teas and Tales to its original state after magical catastrophes.
Following Morven’s latest attempt to break free, it had only taken them a day and a half to get everything back into working order, which Nyssa was immensely relieved about.
The people of Nighthaven had been endlessly patient with her temporary closures ‘due to unforeseen circumstances’, but she suspected that sooner or later this patience would start wearing thin.
It was a damp morning in early December, a few days after her third (or was it fourth?) reopening, and she had been about to tuck into one of the cinnamon buns Madame Jeanne had just delivered when she heard a clatter in the back room.
Surely not again, she thought, exhausted at the prospect of having to defend her café against yet another magical threat. Summoning her magic to her fingertips in case she needed to strike quickly, she made her way cautiously to the back room and flung open the door.
Nyssa recoiled immediately as she took in the sizeable owl that was flapping furiously around the tiny room, causing all manner of pots and pans to fall from the shelves that crowded the walls.
After everything that had happened with the owl from Familiars – or Mr Featherton, as Liora now insisted they all refer to it – Nyssa was perpetually on edge whenever there was an owl near her.
But upon closer inspection, she realized that this was not, in fact, the vicious Mr Featherton.
It was the owl Edith used for all her coven correspondence.
‘Oh, for witches’ sake,’ Nyssa grumbled, moving carefully towards the bird to try to coax it out of the tiny back window which it had somehow forced its way through in the first place.
Once Edith’s owl was safely back outside, soaring into the grey winter sky, Nyssa turned to pick up the letter which it had deposited on the counter before trying to destroy Nyssa’s back room.
She tore open the letter with a gut already filled with trepidation. Somehow, she’d known what the letter was about before she’d even read the words.
Dear Mage Hawthorne,
We are delighted to inform you that, after the successful completion of your three trials, your final test will commence on the eve of the Winter Solstice.
In order to determine whether you are ready to reclaim your position as head mage, the coven has decided that you must successfully perform this Winter Solstice’s Rebirth Ritual.
As such, we ask that you please report to the covenstead of The Coven of the Sacred Owl approximately one hour before sunset in order to prepare.
We look forward to seeing how much progress you have made in your time away.
Sincerely,
Edith Kelster
Interim Head Mage of The Coven of the Sacred Owl
Nyssa felt a wave of anxiety roll through her gut.
But just as she was about to reread Edith’s message, she heard the tinkle of the bell in the front signalling her first customers of the day.
Folding the letter back up carefully and sliding it into its envelope, she tucked it away on a high shelf and headed out to the counter.
Felix and Fen met her with wide smiles, and Nyssa was soon rushing back and forth with pots of tea, so busy that she didn’t have time to dwell on the letter’s contents.
By mid-afternoon, though, Nyssa’s regular morning clientele had left, and the turmoil she’d felt on first reading the letter was returning with a vengeance. She turned it over in her mind as she collected empty cups from coffee tables, chewing the inside of her cheek with worry.
The Rebirth Ritual was one of the most important in a coven’s calendar; if not performed correctly, the coven would not be blessed by their ancestors for the year to come, and their collective magic would be significantly weakened because of it.
Allowing Nyssa to perform it as her final test was a huge risk, one she couldn’t imagine Edith taking without a greater agenda in mind.
‘You have that expression again,’ Liora commented, waving a spoon at her from behind the counter. ‘If you’re worried about our resident-warlock-in-a-board-game problem, you don’t need to be! That birdcage seems to be doing the trick!’
The bard had procured it a few days after the incident at the café, and so far, it seemed to be doing a good job of keeping Morven’s now neutralized magic contained.
Said birdcage – an ornate, brass thing that weighed a ton – was currently in a storage cupboard beneath one of the café’s window seats, which Nyssa had also warded.
Wards that, after a week and a half, had started to weaken at an alarmingly fast rate.
Nyssa already had the strengthening spell ready to go; all she was missing were the ingredients. She’d been planning to purchase them that morning, but the café had gotten too busy.
It was yet another thing on her growing list of stuff to deal with. But it was one she didn’t need to burden Liora with. ‘I’m not worried about him.’
Liora pursed her lips and went back to stirring her tea, a new blend Nyssa had come up with that combined apple pieces with cinnamon, cardamom and a touch of mugwort for protection against malicious magic. ‘But you are worried about something.’
Nyssa cast a quick glance around the now mostly empty café.
Gwen was humming quietly to herself as she measured out tea leaves behind the counter, and only one table remained, inhabited by Fen, Felix and Torin, who was on his break.
The teens were so engrossed in a game of Brownie’s Revenge that Nyssa didn’t think they’d notice if she began to tap dance in the middle of the room.
Still, she lowered her voice as she revealed, ‘I passed my third trial, and my final test with the coven is due to take place on the Winter Solstice.’
Liora’s eyes widened. ‘But that’s right before the binding ritual.’
‘It sure is – but whatever happens with the trial, I’ll return to complete the ritual with you all.’ Morven was her responsibility, after all. That wouldn’t change, no matter how her final trial played out.
Liora pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, looking more vulnerable than Nyssa had ever seen her. ‘And then …?’
It was the question she’d been avoiding all morning. The one that made her stomach twist whenever she thought about it. Clearly sensing her distress as she always did, Nyx jumped up on to the counter beside her and headbutted her hand, as if to say: Whatever you decide, you’ll still have me.
‘Honestly? … I don’t know.’ Nyssa ran her hand down Nyx’s back. ‘I was pretty sure I’d fail the first trial anyway, and my choice would be made for me. Now, though …’
Now, despite her latest wobbles and the immediate anxiety that had set in when she read Edith’s letter, Nyssa felt fairly confident she could pass her final test. If she could keep her cool and neutralize Morven’s magic in the midst of flying objects, creepy, magical fog, and the threat of him escaping and destroying everything she cared about, then she could handle the Rebirth Ritual and reclaim her position as Head Mage of The Coven of the Sacred Owl.
The problem was, she was no longer sure she wanted to.
Liora handed her one of the mugs of tea. ‘You don’t have to make a decision yet; do the test, and see how you feel then?’
‘Yeah. Thanks, Li.’ Nyssa took a sip of Gwen’s latest blend of bonfire-smoke and toffee-apple tea, and when the café door swung open a moment later, and Elowen stepped inside with her cheeks flushed and her hair mussed, Nyssa wasn’t sure if the warmth in her cheeks was from her or the tea.
The two hadn’t kissed since the night they’d thwarted Morven’s attempt at escaping, but something had definitely changed between them.
They’d always find one another in a room, gravitating to each other’s sides like magnets, where they’d share small, subtle touches – the brush of fingers, the press of arms – and exchange heated looks that Nyssa was almost certain the others had noticed.
And whenever Nyssa thought of her, her stomach would flutter in a way she hadn’t experienced since her first intense teenage crush.
Or it had. Now, it fluttered with something else. Something that made her want to hide under her bedcovers and ignore her impending decision. And while she couldn’t do that – not with a café to run and a warlock to permanently imprison – she could do one thing.
‘Could you keep this between us?’ she whispered to Liora, ignoring the twinge of guilt the request roused. ‘I just … don’t want to give the others any more to worry about right now.’
Liora raised an eyebrow, as if she knew the excuse was only half the reason, and Nyssa was convinced the bard was going to call her out before she pressed her lips together and gave a small nod. ‘If that’s what you want.’
Nyssa practically sagged in relief. ‘Thanks, Li.’
Liora looked like she was going to say something else when Elowen strode up to them, a piece of parchment clutched tightly in one gloved hand. ‘Elder Rhydian has the orb,’ she said, sounding as if she’d run the entire way to the café. ‘We can leave for T? Canol tonight.’
‘Oh, thank the ancestors.’ Nyssa let out a sigh of relief.
The next full moon – and thus, the ritual Nyssa was slowly putting together – was just over two weeks away; she’d come up with a version of the ritual that didn’t require the use of the orb, but it would be nowhere near as powerful.
‘Li, are you happy to look after the café whilst Elowen and I are gone?’
‘Of course!’ the bard said, and then, with a mischievous grin, she added, ‘Isn’t T? Canol where the characters in Enchanted Thorns find that waterfall?’
Nyssa’s cheeks flooded with heat at the scene Liora was referring to, in which the main female character and a brooding but beautiful elf admit their love to one another beneath a waterfall and share a rather … intimate moment.
‘Oh, look at the time; don’t you have practice with Swyn?’