A Bad Time to Sparkle
Ash leads me into Town Hall’s meeting room. It’s to the left of the main space, and there are already lots of people here—most of whom I haven’t met.
But they all watch me like they know who I am, and it doesn’t escape anyone’s notice that I’m arriving with Ash.
Ryder waves and then dramatically gestures to the empty space on the bench next to him.
Ash rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t look particularly concerned. “I’ll meet you after the meeting,” he says, grazing his hand over mine as we part.
The touch might have been an accident, but the rogue butterflies that have taken up residence in my stomach don’t care. I fight them, begging them to stay still. The last thing I need is to glitter in front of all these people.
“Hi,” a woman greets me before I can make my way to the bench to join Ryder. Her hair is a warm, coppery red, and she has pretty freckles across the bridge of her nose. “I’m Cosette. I own the yarn store that’s not too far from your tea shop.”
I’d know she was an autumn pixie even if Marshall hadn’t told me. Her magic is gentle but hot—like a crackling campfire. It feels so much like my mother’s, I’m struck with an unexpected bout of homesickness.
“I’m Kit,” I answer.
“I’m glad you’re reopening your shop.” She glances toward the concession table as if wishing tea were an option right now. “Do you think you’ll keep ordering the chocolate mint your aunt always kept in stock? It’s my favorite.”
“I imagine I will.”
Thankfully, Laverna kept good supply records.
“Do you knit?” She narrows her eyes as she adds, “Or quilt?”
This is definitely a test.
“Neither,” I say. “But my mother crochets.”
Apparently, that’s enough to pass her test, and her smile returns. “You’ll have to bring her down to the store sometime.”
“I’ll be sure to drop by when she visits,” I promise, trying not to laugh when Ryder impatiently waves me over.
Giving the elf a wistful look, she sighs. “You’re being summoned.”
“It was nice to meet you,” I say, and then I start down the aisle to join Ryder, passing a pair of middle-aged fox shifters, a handsome high fae man with a cool complexion and black hair, and Meg.
“Hello, Kit,” the young high fae woman says warmly, scooting a little closer to the man next to her to make room for me on the bench.
“Hi, Meg,” I say. “Will your grandmother attend tonight?”
“No, but this is my brother.” She gestures to the black-haired fae next to her. “River, this is Kit. She’s Laverna’s niece.”
The high fae man leans around his sister and extends his hand, his smile crinkling his cobalt blue eyes. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I run the bookshop.”
I shake his hand, feeling a small thrill as my magic connects with his. Another winter.
His eyes spark as our opposing magic is drawn together. Thankfully, I don’t shimmer for River. Apparently, that’s only something I do for Ash.
As soon as he releases my hand, Meg gestures past him to the fox shifters, “And those are Jasper and Hazel. They own the meat and cheese shop.”
“Hello, Kit,” Hazel says. “Welcome to Moss Hollow.”
“And that there is Arlo,” Meg says, gesturing to a fox shifter in his mid-twenties who’s currently talking to Marshall near the front of the room. “Hazel’s younger brother.”
“He manages our ice cream shop,” Hazel says. “It’s in the same building as our store, but across the hall.”
“Let’s see. I’ve heard you’ve met Marshall,” Meg continues, gesturing toward the man who works at the garden nursery. “And that’s—”
“You’re monopolizing Kit’s attention,” Ryder says playfully, “and I’ve already reserved her for the evening.”
“Word has it you’ve already lost that game.” Meg jerks her chin at Ash.
“It’s not over until there’s a ring,” Ryder answers lazily.
She rolls her eyes, sighing a little, and turns back to me. “Do you want me to keep going, or is your head already too full of names?”
I laugh, probably infecting all the nearby people with my magic—which is evident when several look my way.
“Sorry,” I murmur, wanting to disappear in my seat.
Meg loops her arm in mine. “Not at all. You can sit next to me during all the town meetings. If you’re close enough, your magic might shield me from Arista’s.”
“Is she the winter pixie who owns the bakery?” I ask quietly, feeling a bit like a gossip but just trying to keep everyone straight.
“Correct.”
Meg lowers her voice to a whisper. “Not to mention Tessalie.”
“She’s here?” I ask, somewhat surprised.
Spring pixie magic in this tight space could be turbulent. It would either work like a love potion, making people fawn all over the person next to them, whether they like them or not, or cause passionate, jealous rage.
“Where is she?” I ask.
Meg turns in her seat and tips her head to the side. “In the very back, by herself over there.”
The woman looks much like her sister, but with fawn-brown hair and a freckle-free complexion. She plays on her phone like she’s bored, but she seems a little lonely.
“Does she always have to sit by herself?”
“Only when Cosette is here,” Ryder says, joining the conversation. “The two sisters make each other so mad, they can’t control their magic when they’re in the same room. It isn’t a problem if Cosette infects us with tranquility, but Tessalie…”
“I understand.”
I wouldn’t want to be a winter or spring pixie for anything.
“Those are their parents,” Meg says, speaking of the autumn pixie couple who just walked in. They’re in their mid-to-late fifties, and the room already feels more peaceful. “Hattie and Douglas. They own the toy store.”
“And half a dozen other buildings in town,” Ryder says. “River rents from them. As do Cosette and Tessalie.”
“They’re nearly as well-off as the mayor’s family,” Meg whispers.
I’ll never be able to keep all this straight.
“Oh, and that’s Theodosia.” Meg’s eyes are now on a petite, older woman who just walked in behind the pixie couple.
She’s in a breezy, bohemian, natural-dyed sort of dress, which is tucked in at her waist with a scarf. Her red-and-gray hair is wavy and a little wild, and it falls all the way to her waist. I can’t make out her magic.
“She owns the crystal and divination shop,” Meg whispers.
“The what?” I ask, incredulous.
Meg laughs. “She knows it’s a farce, but the tourists eat it up.” She lowers her voice. “She’s a leprechaun.”
“Ansel and Rosalie are here,” Ryder says as the mage I met in the street a few days ago walks in with a woman who shares his dark hair and sharply beautiful features. “They didn’t come last time.”
“Have you met Rosalie?” Meg asks. “Her brother is distant and often contrary, but she’s nice.”
“I haven’t.”
The woman is probably a few years older than me, and she has a friendly smile. I recognize the siblings’ mage-magic now, especially after seeing so much of it at the college.
“She’s usually at the counter of the rock shop while Ansel is in the back, concocting who-knows-what.”
Meg would likely keep going, but Ash takes his place behind the lectern. “Everyone, find your seats. Many of you arrived late, so we’re already behind schedule.”
“It’s good to see you too, Ash,” Ryder says just loud enough for Meg and me to hear. “Glad to be here—thanks for the warm welcome.”
Meg snorts, and I hide a smile.
Ash looks down at his notes. “Most of what we need to discuss will be directed toward our local business owners. We’ll cover that last so the rest of you may leave early.”
People shift as the stragglers find seats.
“First order of business—fae beasts. There have been numerous sightings. Some of you are getting negligent.” He pauses, his cool gaze landing purposefully on someone in the back.
“Because of that, we’ve had to reassess our permits.
The first time your beast escapes, you will receive a warning.
The second time, we will revoke your fae beast permit. ”
“Come on, Ash,” a deep voice says from several rows behind me. “It was an accident.”
“It was an accident the first time, Dorian,” Ash says sharply. “For a multitude of reasons, we cannot have your dragons running loose around town. This is your final warning.”
I glance back, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man who raises dragons, but there are too many people in the way.
“All right, let’s move on to the next order of business,” Ash says.
“We have someone interested in building a miniature golf course off Maple Street. We’ve turned down golf courses in the past, but that’s because the people who approached us were human.
The council has discussed it, and we believe it will add value to our town, provided the owners agree to our required aesthetic.
However, we would like your opinions. If you have any thoughts or concerns, please meet with Anna sometime this week. ”
He touches on several more subjects, moving through his list quickly and efficiently.
“The remainder of my notes are for the shopkeepers on Main Street only. The rest of you may leave. Thank you for your time.”
About half the room rises, and people pause to talk.
“Please move your conversations outside so we may continue the meeting,” Ash says, raising his voice to be heard over the chattering.
When the door closes behind the final straggler, he continues, “Everyone, I would like to introduce you to Kathleen Merriweather, Laverna’s niece and the new owner of Moss Hollow’s beloved tea shop. Kathleen, would you please come to the front and greet everyone?”
I narrow my eyes, not impressed to be made the center of attention. Stubbornly staying put, I stare at him. A smile twitches the corners of his mouth—a mouth that kissed me not even an hour ago.
His smile is subtle but potent. “Please…Kit?”
That’s the first time he’s used my preferred name, and it does something weird to my stomach.
Don’t sparkle. Not now.
I rip my eyes away from Ash, studying the room of strangers instead, and those sparkles die before they can begin. I stand, ignoring Ryder when he whispers, “Go get ’em, Tinker Bell.”
When I join Ash, I give the room an awkward wave. “Hi. I’m Kathleen. Everyone calls me Kit. I’m really excited to be here and get to know you all.”