Chapter 6 #2
I follow him out of his office, suddenly nervous. “Maybe he called to apologize? What if we’re jumping to conclusions, and the phone call wasn’t nefarious at all?”
“He lost his right to speak with you when he forced you into his car and stole your magic. If he’s feeling the need for closure—and I doubt he is—then good. He can stew in his grief. It’s the least of what he deserves.”
I laugh, uncomfortable. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”
He holds the door open for me as we step outside. “Says the woman who sparkled for me and then ran off with my cousin.”
I wince because he’s not wrong—I did that. But he wasn’t exactly innocent in the whole thing either.
Ash glances at me when I don’t respond, looking chagrined. “That was supposed to be a joke, but perhaps it was a touch too dry?”
I don’t know how to answer, so I pretend the question was rhetorical.
“Has Rowan figured out a way to undo your fused magic?” he asks.
“Not yet. Things have been a little chaotic, what with the kidnapping, my parents’ visit, and the gnomes.”
Ash comes to a dead stop. “Gnomes?”
A sinking feeling of pure dread settles in my stomach. “I didn’t mention it?”
“Mention what?”
I glance around, making sure we’re alone. “A family of gnomes has moved into the tea garden.”
He groans, closing his eyes and tilting his head back, looking as if this is the worst news he’s received all summer. “We cannot have the Preservation Society coming in and closing down your shop in the busiest season of the year.”
At least someone grasps the gravity of the situation, though I suspect he cares less about my bank account and more about Main Street’s aesthetics. Either way, he’s on my side.
Composing himself, he looks back at me. “Please tell me you haven’t contacted them.”
I shake my head quickly. “I called my dad, and he came to help. He does volunteer work for the Preservation Society, and he’s going to attempt a quiet, unofficial relocation.”
“Without getting anyone involved?” Ash asks, looking hopeful.
“That’s the plan.”
“Good.” He nods his approval. “Keep me posted.”
“I will.” I motion toward the tea shop. “I need to let Rowan know I’m going to the sheriff’s office before we go.”
Ash doesn’t argue, though it’s clear he would like to. He follows me across the street and into the tea shop.
There are customers at the tables, but there’s no one lined up at the counter right now.
Rowan watches Ash and me enter together. It’s not the first time I’ve seen him jealous, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. But it doesn’t bother me. After all, I’ve been struggling with it myself.
His irritation is tangible through our bond, but I sense a good portion of it stems from his lack of control.
He’s a man of academics, a soon-to-be sorcerer who’s spent years learning how to control magic, and I know he’s frustrated by his body’s raw, instinctive reaction. So he fights it. Fights it and fails.
“Russell attempted to contact Kit,” Ash says as soon as we reach the counter, either oblivious to the heated look on Rowan’s face or ignoring it completely.
Rowan yanks his eyes from Ash and demands, “When?”
“While I was walking back from the bakery,” I say. “I thought I should tell Ash since he’s been handling all this for me.”
“I’m going to take Kit down to the sheriff’s office to start a restraining order,” Ash says.
Rowan frowns, thoughtful—maybe even a little angry. “Like that will stop Russell.”
“It’s our only option.”
“Let me take care of it,” Rowan says, almost pleading.
“You do not want to go to fae prison,” Ash answers sharply. “The punishment for breaking specific laws is often more severe than the ones they dole out for murder. Just because you can keep Russell away from Kit doesn’t mean you should.”
Rowan smirks. “What I’m hearing is you think I should kill him.”
“Rowan!” I exclaim.
He chuckles, suggesting he’s probably joking.
He had better be joking.
“Stay in your lane, Rowan,” Ash says, unamused. “Stick to your workshop. Play with your wands, magic theory, and tea. Let me take care of this.”
Rowan bites back a retort, looking away as though he wants to argue but knows it’s pointless. Though Ash is condescending as can be, he’s the best person to deal with this.
“Come along, Kit,” the councilman says, as though I’m a puppy.
“Hopefully it won’t take too long,” I say to Rowan, hanging back while Ash makes his way to the door.
“It’s all right,” Rowan says heavily. “I have the shop under control.”
And I would probably believe him…except Keira chooses this exact moment to walk through our door.
This time, Rowan’s ex-fiancée isn’t alone.
She’s with a well-dressed blonde woman who must be close to my parents’ age. Keira’s older companion is poised and perfect, undoubtedly high fae, with a perfect blond bob and expensive taste in handbags. I recognize her from the graduation photo I saw at Ash’s house.
This is Rowan’s aunt.
Rowan groans when he spots the pair, making me highly reluctant to follow Ash out the door. But that’s okay, because Ash has stopped, too.
“Mom,” the councilman says, looking dumbfounded as his eyes go between the two women. “What are you…?”
“Keira came to visit me this morning.” Mrs. Neilfellow looks at the dark-haired woman with a concerning amount of affection. “It was an enlightening conversation. We’ve come to see Rowan.”
Rowan mutters something under his breath. It’s too quiet to make out, but it’s clear he’s not happy. Not happy at all.
I step to the side, feeling like I shouldn’t be here even though I own the place. I’m so insignificant that neither Mrs. Neilfellow nor Keira bothers to glance my way.
“Listen, whatever it is you want to discuss, we can do it tonight,” Rowan says. “I’m working.”
“Where’s the little tea pixie?” Rowan’s aunt asks. “Can’t she watch the shop for a while?”
Feeling as important as a ladybug, I debate whether I’m going to announce myself. But it looks like I won’t have to. Highly frustrated, Rowan says, “Her name is Kit, and she’s right there.”
Keira assesses me. She’s a lioness sizing up her prey, and I know when I’m in a losing battle.
Mrs. Neilfellow smiles, unconcerned that I overheard her refer to me as “the little tea pixie.”
“Oh, hello,” she says. “I didn’t see you there. What a twee thing you are.”
“Hi.” I clasp my hands on the counter…then unclasp my hands. I cross my arms and then finally let them fall to my sides like limp tentacles. “I’m Kit.”
But Rowan already said that. To cover up the mistake, I laugh brightly, so stupidly nervous.
“Aren’t you lovely?” Mrs. Neilfellow says. “You pixies are just adorable.”
She says it warmly, oblivious to how condescending she sounds. Apparently Ash comes by his sparkling personality honestly.
Rowan looks at me, silently apologizing. I just hope he doesn’t try to defend me. That will only make this worse.
“I expect you’ve been busy prepping your tea garden for my party,” she says, all business now.
“I had noticed the upkeep slipping toward the end of your aunt’s life.
Understandable, of course. But I do hope you’ll ensure it’s in pristine order for my soirée.
I have several accomplished people on the guest list, so there is a bit of pressure. ”
Her party makes me think of gnomes. And as always, gnomes make me think of doom, gloom, and imminent disaster.
“You’re here to talk about the party?” Rowan asks. “That’s fine, but it will have to wait until we’re closed. Would you like to schedule an appointment?”
His cool tone has me wincing, but his aunt is undaunted, making me wonder if this is how they talk to each other. “Of course, darling,” she says, sounding genuinely affectionate. “Some other time will be fine. We’re not here to chat about that—I just thought I’d mention it. Small talk, you know.”
“Then why are you here?” Rowan asks, glancing at Keira, uneasy.
“We need to pin down a date for the wedding. I’m assuming you’ll want to book the festival grounds again, which is just fine, but we’ll need a florist, and I’ll have to contact my caterer.
There are invitations to think of, and we need at least two months’ notice for the cake if we want Sean Carter again, and of course, we do.
We’ll only get him with that short notice because of a favor I’ve retained over the years.
Thank goodness you’ve returned because I doubt Ash will use it, and I’m afraid Anna is too broken to find a suitable match.
” She laughs brightly. “I’m sure we’ll have to marry her off at Town Hall to save face. ”
“Mom,” Ash says sharply.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but it’s true. You know your sister has a disadvantage.
What respectable man is going to want a wife with broken magic to pass on to their children?
Comes from your father’s side, you know.
I should have known better, though I don’t regret marrying him; may he rest in peace.
I hoped we could find her a nice high fae man, but we high fae are a discerning lot, and Anna is… well. We all know.”
She sighs before she continues, “No, for Anna, the best we can hope for at this point is a mage, and I refuse to embarrass her by pretending we’re happy about it. At least I might get a grand mage out of it, though I’m not holding my breath. She’s getting rather old.”
Everything—and I do mean everything—that comes out of the woman’s mouth is horrifying.
Rowan makes a noise as though he’s trying to find words, but he shakes his head like he doesn’t know where to begin. He runs his hand over his face, exasperated and angry, and then his eyes cut to Keira. “What wedding?”
“Our wedding,” Keira says boldly. “You’re back to yourself, and I’ve decided to forgive you for the grief and humiliation you put me through.
Now it’s time to get your life back on track.
Playing tea sommelier was cute while you were in high school, but you’re a thirty-year-old man now. It’s time you grow up.”
Rowan drops his hand. His voice almost emotionless, he says, “I’m not marrying you, Keira.”
She grasps the counter and leans forward, boldly meeting his eyes. “Yes, Rowan. You are.”