Of Mages and Matcha (Owls, Tea Shops, and Other Magical Nuisances #3)

Chapter 1

Worse than a Gnome

You don’t know true dread until you locate a gnome house on your property.

I feared it was coming. Deep in my heart, I knew it was only a matter of time before I located it.

First, it was the swing hanging from a branch.

Then, I found a tiny cart full of pebbles near a rosebush.

Now here I am, staring at a miniature house fixed to the side of the ancient oak at the very back of the tea garden.

It’s gut-wrenchingly adorable, with a moss roof and bark shake siding. It even has a little chimney.

I know from having a gnome-obsessed father that this house is merely the entrance into a hollow corridor of the tree, where the family will construct their home. If the tree is big enough, they’ll invite their friends.

In no time at all, one family can become two. Two can become five.

And five can cause financial ruin. Oh, who am I kidding? One is enough to cause financial ruin.

With a heavy heart, I walk into the tea shop.

“I found a gnome house,” I say to Rowan when I join him behind the counter, keeping my voice down so Graham won’t hear me.

The poor human already thinks he hallucinated an alligator on his porch when one of Dorian’s dragons escaped.

He might have a nervous breakdown if he overhears me talking about gnomes.

The author is our only customer right now, but it’s Friday. This is the calm before the weekend storm.

“Your dad will take care of it,” Rowan says, his calm tone suggesting he’s never seen the chaos the Fae Preservation Society can create.

But he’s right. Dad will fix this—hopefully before the society discovers the new settlement on my property.

“What time are they supposed to be here?” Rowan asks.

“They’re traveling by fairy ring, so I don’t know. Mom said they’re going to leave their house by nine, but it will take about thirty minutes to get to the ring from their place.”

I didn’t ask how much it’s going to cost them. I don’t want to know. They’re rushing here for me, and though I appreciate it and would love to help with their travel expenses, I just don’t have the money for that.

I think back to the mess with Russell, the mage who twisted our pixie dust agreement and abducted me a few days ago.

The ranger from the Department of Fae Code and Ethics said if I cash the check Russell made out to me, it will be harder to incarcerate the criminal mage.

Though he warned it will be difficult no matter what thanks to the way the law is written, and added that the choice is mine, since magic left my body.

So now I’m sitting on a thirty-thousand-dollar check, unsure what to do. I can’t decide how I feel about it. On the one hand, it seems dishonest of me to cash it when Ansel destroyed the pendant, since I didn’t technically deliver any of my magic to Russell.

On the other hand, he kidnapped me and drew my magic without my permission, relying on a loophole in the fae code. The least I should get out of it is enough money to fix my aged tea shop's roof.

Or pay part of Rowan’s mages college tuition.

My ex-owl will never allow me to help, though. Especially not when he can finish his degree for free if he goes back as an aide for Professor Bellview.

But then we’ll be apart for who-knows-how-long, and I’m not sure my heart can handle that, especially while our magic is fused.

Our accidental shifter bond is alive and well. Though two days ago, Rowan decided we shouldn’t have a physical relationship until he reversed the bond. He said it’s for my sake—just in case I’m not in love with him. In case my feelings aren’t real, or some such rubbish.

While the lack of kisses distracts me during the day, the fear that these feelings aren’t my own keeps me up at night.

Basically, I’m a hot, glittering mess.

The door chimes, pulling me from my brooding. Graham looks up, face hopeful, and then deflates when Ash walks into the tearoom. I might be wrong, but I’m pretty sure he’s hoping to see Meg this morning.

I, too, would rather see Meg.

Ash is still mad Rowan didn’t tell him about my kidnapping. At least this time, he doesn’t blame me—which is handy because he’s stepped in as my lawyer once more to help navigate this mess with Russell.

“Morning, Ash,” I say when the handsome councilman reaches the counter. “Irish breakfast?”

“I’m afraid I’m here with news.”

My stomach drops. “Bad news?”

“It’s not good. They released Russell this morning.”

“Already?”

“They fined him for the altercation with Rowan, but they couldn’t hold him for the crime he committed against you thanks to the ridiculous way the code was amended.” His dark brown eyes flash with injustice. “I swear a criminal mage must have been involved in the process.”

“Now what?” I ask.

“If he attempts to kidnap you again, we can request a location spell be placed on him, preventing him from entering Moss Hollow. But the department won’t perform one on a first offense.”

“Are you serious?” Rowan demands. “Kit has to be kidnapped twice before they’ll do something about him?”

“Thanks to the check, they’re not considering this a kidnapping.

It’s a business deal gone awry.” Ash’s eyes narrow at his cousin.

“And I didn’t make the law, so don’t blame me.

It’s not even my area of expertise. I leaned into human law, only briefly studying Faerie code for additional licensing and certifications.

Kit is fortunate I’m as familiar with it as I am. ”

“I’m grateful,” I say. “But I’m not sure what to do now.”

“Since the fae authorities won’t be of any use, we must rely on the human system. I believe we should speak with Emerson and request a restraining order.”

“Do you think I’ll need it? Maybe Russell will just… leave me alone?” I glance at the door as if worried the mage is going to walk through it right this second.

“We can hope,” Ash says. “But let’s err on the side of caution. I can go with you now if you’d like.”

“What will a restraining order do?”

“Under human law, Russell won’t be allowed to visit or contact you.”

“We already know he has questionable morals. What’s going to keep him from breaking the law?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Ash responds. “That’s why I was hoping for a location spell.”

“I’ll think about it,” I say, doubting human restrictions will discourage the mage.

Ash looks like he wants to press me to go now, but he keeps his opinions to himself for once.

“Give me a few days to research location spells,” Rowan says to me. “I’m sure I could work one.”

“You must be licensed with the Department of Fae Code and Ethics to legally perform one,” Ash says.

“It would be my first offense, so surely no one would care,” Rowan responds, his voice dripping with disdain.

“Don’t break the law for me,” I say to Rowan before this can start an argument. “I’ll take a self-defense class or something.”

“We have nothing like that in Moss Hollow.” Ash frowns thoughtfully, perhaps displeased his town lacks a desired resource. “Maybe I should speak to Gideon.”

The door chimes as a family of four walks into the shop. Ash glances over his shoulder, sees they’re tourists, and steps away from the counter. “If you don’t want to talk to Emerson, I’ll let you get back to work.”

“I’ll text you when I decide what I’d like to do,” I say. “Thank you for helping with all this.”

“You’re welcome. However, please remember that time is of the—” He cuts off when Rowan makes a strangled noise, scowling at his cousin with distaste. “Is there a problem?”

But Rowan doesn’t answer.

Ash follows Rowan’s gaze to the front door and grips the counter as soon as he spots the high fae woman who walks in behind the family.

She shoves her sunglasses into her thick mane of brown hair and pauses in the doorway.

She wears a flowy white blouse, dark gray shorts, stiletto heels, and pearls.

Though she looks like she walked out of a designer magazine, in no way fitting Moss Hollow’s aesthetic, the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me she’s no stranger to the town.

“Rowan,” she says when she locates her target.

The family pauses halfway to the counter to look at her, intrigued. Graham, too, looks up from his laptop.

I know who she is. How couldn’t I, when both Rowan and Ash look at her like she’s the Ghost of Christmas Past?

My fear is confirmed when Rowan finds his voice. “Keira.”

I was wrong.

Gnome houses aren’t that bad. You don’t know true dread until your accidental mate’s ex-fiancée walks into your tea shop.