Some Like it Scorched (Witchfully Wed #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

ELIZABETH

Elizabeth Miranda Moonwhisper Thornwick knelt beside the copper cauldron she’d carried out into her moonlit garden, her pale blue gown catching on the dewy grass.

Silver hair hung down her back in a thick plait that swung as she reached for sprigs of ludewright nestled between pink-petaled duskroses.

The garden’s fragrance intensified in the night air, heavy with floral notes that only a true witch could decipher.

“You’d think the council would send their urgent messages at a more reasonable hour,” she grumbled, tossing the ludewright into her brew with a flick. “But no, it’s always midnight scrying and dawn deliberations to give them the help they need.”

From his perch on an embroidered silk divan she’d brought outside, Grimble yawned, his silver tabby fur gleaming under the full moon.

They wait until I’m comfortable, of course, he said. Maximum inconvenience is pretty much council policy.

“You’re right.” Elizabeth glanced at him over her shoulder. “I thought you were asleep.”

I’m trying, but the bugs are pesky tonight.

A wave of her hand sent a keep-away spell across the area, distracting the insects with a succulent smell in an adjacent garden. That would keep them busy until she was done for the night.

The flames beneath the cauldron danced as Elizabeth added crystallized mooncusp dew, her wrinkled fingers moving quickly.

Cooking divination required exact proportions and perfect timing.

Too much of one ingredient or added at the wrong moment could cloud future visions, making them too misty to interpret.

Cyrene’s vampire seems almost tolerable now, Grimble said, stretching out on the divan. Though I suspect that’s more her witchy influence than his natural charm.

Elizabeth smiled. “She’s brightened that gloomy castle considerably. The vampire council members actually smiled during their recent diplomatic visit.”

Once. Briefly. After drinking that strange ruby concoction.

“Progress is progress.” Elizabeth tapped her wooden spoon against the pot’s rim.

A faint buzzing echoed in the air, and a pinpoint of light spiraled down from the sky. The sprite messenger, more disheveled than during his previous visit, zipped close enough to hover in front of Elizabeth’s nose.

“Matriarch Thornwick,” the sprite wheezed, his tiny wings drooping with exhaustion. “Urgent tidings from the council.”

“You poor thing,” Elizabeth cooed, offering her palm as a landing spot, which the sprite took. “You look half-faded. Rest a moment before delivering your message.”

The sprite collapsed onto her hand, his glow dimming before he straightened his shoulders. “The coven acknowledges that your unorthodox solution has merit.” The sprite’s voice resembled wind chimes in a gentle breeze. “The witch-vampire bond has slowed the magical deterioration along the border.”

“Told them so,” Elizabeth said softly.

Such a dreadful thing. If they couldn’t stop the deterioration, the veil between the human and magical worlds would collapse. Their magic would leach out and in no time…

Well, Elizabeth didn’t want to think about that. She was here in this garden tonight to do all she could to ensure it didn’t happen.

“The deterioration has not halted it, however. The eastern boundaries still weaken.” The sprite produced a tiny scroll from seemingly nowhere. “The coven formally authorizes the continuation of your matchmaking initiative, with all haste.”

The scroll expanded to normal size after the sprite placed it in Elizabeth’s free hand. The parchment showed wax seals in varying colors, one from each coven member.

“Deterioration pace?” Elizabeth asked, passing the sprite a thimble-sized cup of honeydew nectar she’d earlier placed on the nearby table.

“Slowed by approximately one quarter.” The sprite drained the cup. “The border shows marked improvement, but other regions continue to show fading. Healing spells in the northern mountains fail at increasing rates.”

“The dragon territories,” Elizabeth said, squinting in that direction, though the mountain range housing the dragon kingdom was much too far to make out with the naked eye.

Interesting, Grimble purred in her mind.

The sprite nodded. “The council requests,” he coughed delicately, “suggests you proceed with additional matches with all possible speed.”

“I suspected as much. Tell them I’m already brewing the future as we speak.” Elizabeth gestured to her pot, where steam had begun to spiral upward in swirling patterns. “Safe travels, friend.”

With a nod, the sprite zipped back toward the stars, his light flaring brighter after the nectar.

Elizabeth studied the scroll, skimming the coven’s flowery language.

“They’ve finally admitted I’m right,” she said. “After all that fuss about inappropriate solutions and overstepping boundaries.”

They’re simply clever enough to let you do their uncomfortable work for them, Grimble said. Marrying your granddaughters off to monster kings lets them claim diplomatic victories without risking their own bloodlines.

“My granddaughters are perfect diplomatic ambassadors. And they deserve wonderful matches, not boring local wizards with more magical theory than practical skill. If the Thornwick sisters were building a house, Adele would design the climate control, Cyrene would choose the decor that makes it feel like a home.”

Ah. You’re right, Grimble said. Sasha would lay the foundation and structural beams to keep it from falling, and Victoria would be in the kitchen brewing recipes that give the house its unique and inviting scent.

“Exactly.” Elizabeth returned to her pot, adding three dried wraithbell pods and a pinch of silverdust. The brew turned a deep indigo, releasing steam that formed shapes above the bubbling surface, wispy fragments of possibilities.

“Now, which granddaughter should be next?” Elizabeth asked, though they both knew she’d already decided. “Sasha’s too stern for the fae king yet. She needs more time to soften. Victoria…” She shook her head. “She isn’t ready to leave her experiments.”

Which leaves Adele. Grimble jumped down from his divan to circle the cauldron. Our absent-minded weather witch.

“Precisely.” Elizabeth sprinkled powdered dragonscale, acquired at considerable expense from a traveling merchant, into the mixture. “She has a brilliant mind, but terrible focus. Did you know she accidentally frosted the entire library last week while reading about arctic wind patterns?”

The books survived, I hope.

“I cast protective wards on them years ago,” Elizabeth said. “This isn’t the first time her weather magic has leaked while she’s concentrating.”

The steam thickened, coalescing into mountainous shapes. Elizabeth leaned forward, her eyes reflecting the brew’s glow.

“Show me who will balance my Adele,” she whispered.

The steam twisted into the silhouette of a tall, broad-shouldered figure with regal bearing. As Elizabeth watched, the figure shifted, momentarily revealing massive wings and a scaled form before returning to his humanoid appearance.

“Raoul Emberforge,” she said. “Just as I suspected.”

The dragon king’s fortress materialized in the steam, a breathtaking structure built into a mountain peak, with crystalline spires catching the sunlight. Below the fortress, extensive caverns stretched through the mountain range, glittering with natural gems and heated pools.

Dramatic architectural choice, Grimble said. Though I suppose wings make the heights less inconvenient.

“Look deeper.” Elizabeth stirred counterclockwise three times.

The vision shifted inward, revealing meticulously organized rooms where servants moved around.

Raoul stood at the center of a large bedroom, his dark auburn hair swept back from a face that rarely smiled.

He moved with grace, his amber eyes missing nothing.

Every item in his private chambers lay in perfect alignment, from books arranged by both size and subject to jewels categorized by color and significance.

“Too much order,” Elizabeth said. “Too much control.”

The steam then showed Raoul alone on a balcony, staring out at the distant horizon, his shoulders bearing the weight of the responsibility he’d taken on after his parents died.

Though surrounded by advisors and attendants, no one stood close enough to touch him.

No one dared breach the careful distance he maintained.

Cold and precise, Grimble said. Like a perfectly cut gemstone.

“In need of warmth,” she said. “In need of Adele’s particular chaos, actually.

Her heat will melt his frost, and his structure will give form to her wild ideas.

” She nodded pertly. “They’ll create storms together before finding their balance, but the magic they’ll generate will strengthen the boundaries considerably. ”

She reached for a fresh parchment and quill she’d brought outside for this purpose. “I’ll send the marriage proposal tonight. The dragon lands are far more traditional than the vampire territories. They still appreciate proper courtship rituals.”

You mean arranged marriages without the participant’s input, Grimble said with a low laugh.

Elizabeth sniffed. “It worked for Cyrene, didn’t it?”

Eventually.

“The best matches take time.” Elizabeth began to compose the formal proposal. “Besides, this is different. Adele has no lost love haunting her heart. She’ll approach this pragmatically.”

As she wrote, detailing the benefits of a dragon-witch alliance, the air around the cauldron steam began to shift.

A warm breeze swirled through the garden, followed almost immediately by a cool draft.

The conflicting temperatures created miniature cloud formations above the brew that hadn’t been there before.

“Oh my,” Elizabeth whispered, watching as tiny lightning sparked between the clouds.

Is that…? Grimble backed up a few steps.

“Adele’s weather magic.” Elizabeth eyes widened with delight. “It’s responding to the match before it’s even set. The fates are in agreement.”

The miniature storm intensified, swirling faster as Elizabeth completed the proposal with a flourish. As she signed her name, a crack of thunder split the air.

Elizabeth looked up to see storm clouds gathering over her garden, despite the clear starry night of moments before.

Grimble eyed the gathering storm with concern. I hope this marriage goes smoothly.

Elizabeth sealed the proposal with melted wax and her family crest, unconcerned by the weather phenomenon. Her smile grew wide and a bit mischievous as lightning illuminated her face. “Oh, but where’s the fun in that?”