10. AN INVITATION （OR TWO）
AN INVITATION (OR TWO)
BY THE TIME EMbrY HAD FINISHED HER FITTING—AND CONVINCED Jonesy that going in an ice-blue direction for the gown via magical spell might be more striking (and less associated with diarrhea)—the entire extended cast had cleared out.
Which was a relief after that homecoming weirdness.
Embry loved her friends dearly, but she really needed to decompress. Maybe even get off campus altogether. That was it. Instead of meeting her friends at the refectory for dinner, she could surprise Daddy with a home-cooked meal on a school night. Surely he’d be up for that?
She was contemplating whether she could (a) convince Daddy to forgo pasta for spaghetti squash if she offered to make his favorite meatballs (with lean ground turkey, obviously) and (b) jeopardize making curfew after dinner if she had to run by the store first for ingredients before getting started, when she noticed that one of her friends had stayed behind.
Actually, the only one she’d want to see, all things considered.
He was loitering outside Marlow Theatre, the towering oaks dotting the quad filtering the golden sunset light over the shine of his pomaded hair. “There you are, Princess.”
Balthazar’s dimples winked as he grinned, turning to her.
“It’s kind of you to wait for me, but I think I can walk to the dorm just fine,” Embry told him upon greeting, because though she was pleasantly surprised, she didn’t want Balthazar to get the impression that she couldn’t handle herself.
And, well, Embry also didn’t want to admit to him that she was actually dashing to the market on a spaghetti squash odyssey.
“It wasn’t the walk I was concerned about.” Balthazar pushed his hands into the pockets of his ever-present black leather jacket. “Another round of awkwardness with Elton-Bentley, but more direct because you’d be alone and unable to say no? That’s what I aim to save you from.”
Embry frowned. “I don’t know why he did that.”
She’d meant because she didn’t know why, if he’d felt that way for literal years, Alistair had chosen that very moment to ask her out. In front of everyone. But Balthazar took her response at face value.
“I do and I’m no diviner.” Balthazar’s lips quirked as he stopped, so now they were both facing down the brick walkway into the setting sun, the sky awash in a pink much prettier than Embry’s original costume color.
“He’s a diviner. The guy’s got no right to be surprised.
I mean, like, how, man, how? You can literally see into the future. ”
Despite everything, Embry bit her lip, feeling a little sorry for Alistair. Though he had all the privilege in the world, the diviner was always, always misunderstood in this way.
“His power has to be deliberate. He’s not, like, predicting the future at all times.
” Balthazar’s frown deepened in disbelief and Embry tugged on his sleeve, imploring.
“Could you imagine how that would feel? Like a marionette in your own life, just moving around like fate’s chess piece and knowing exactly how everything would turn out? So boring.”
“He is a little bit boring anyway, you have to admit.”
Embry would not admit that. Instead, she swatted Balthazar in the gut. And then enjoyed the side effect of having briefly made contact with his rather washboard-like abs. Maybe today hadn’t broken her brain. Or, well, the part that liked that sort of thing.
“Still,” Balthazar mused, “the guy missed a huge opportunity to avoid the awkwardness of what just happened. Like, all he’d have to do is use those Goddess-given talents or maybe just his eyes to notice how you’re always pushing him toward Oakley.”
“I’m not pushing him toward Oakley. I merely think there’s something mutual there, and I’m encouraging it.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Not to mention it would be great publicity for the show. The Baker and the Baker’s Wife together at the dance? Amazing.”
“Even better if they become the royal pair.”
Unbidden, a laugh bubbled up from Embry’s belly. She tried to cover it but failed.
“My, my, the princess has found some amusement in what I’ve said.”
Of course she had. Oakley had become very popular—people were purposefully wearing backpacks for Goddess’s sake—but it wasn’t as if that would happen. It was okay that Balthazar didn’t know this, of course, given he’d only been on campus for a few weeks.
Balthazar laughed, too, before flashing his best smile. “I know we’re already committed to go as a group, but I’d be honored to be your homecoming bodyguard when that walking ascot inevitably asks you directly to dance.”
It was a sweet offer, but Embry was a little annoyed for a second time that he’d thought she might need protection because she was a powerful witch and, seriously, this was Alistair Elton-Bentley they were talking about.
Maybe this need for protection was his ancient magical mercenary blood talking.
Maybe Balthazar couldn’t help it. Maybe it was how he showed he cared?
That niggle of unease vanished as Balthazar fell into character—stern-faced, one finger touching an imaginary earpiece, broad chest a brick wall as he held out a hand to stop an imaginary suitor.
“The homecoming royal is indisposed. Please turn around and walk toward the spiked punch, sir, or we’ll have to escort you outside. ”
Embry reset. This was a good thing. And it didn’t technically break her rules. He’d just be attentive to her that night. “That would be nice.”
Balthazar halted and bent into the sort of deep, dramatic bow that one learns through years of theater. “My pleasure, Princess.”
Embry couldn’t help it; she knew she was beaming as Balthazar unfolded. He checked to ensure his well-coifed hair was still in place, glancing around them quickly, and then reactivated that deadly grin. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”
“Oh, really?”
“Sorcerers aren’t usually very social, but with my family abroad, I’ve been feeling light in the brotherhood department, and I’ve heard impressive things about the Woodcross coven.”
Embry couldn’t believe her ears. Despite her silly daydreaming, sorcerers did not do covens. Full stop. Therefore, she had to clarify: “You want to come to our next meeting?”
“I do.”
Balthazar’s bright blue eyes shaded with something like hope and Embry nearly melted on the spot.
If she’d only known he’d been interested, she would’ve invited him the moment they’d met.
Maybe her urge to do so that first day had been intuition and not a matter of biology because he was nice to look at.
She really did find Alistair attractive, and she still couldn’t make herself like-like him, so she did think attractiveness wasn’t all that as far as these things went.
Embry immediately produced a silver coin, stamped with the Hiram’s Bell and the words Woodcross Coven.
This invitation was the only way to bypass the wards on the grounds of her home on nights of the Witches’ Sabbath.
“Bring this and you’ll get access to our meeting on the next full moon.
You don’t have to join the coven. You can just come, check it out, and leave if the vibes aren’t right. ”
“Princess, the vibes are always immaculate with you.” Then, with a kiss on her cheek that Embry didn’t totally hate, he accepted the coin. “Thank you for the invitation.”
“You’re welcome?”
“I do feel welcome,” Balthazar assured her with that devilish smile. “At your place—the next full moon, you said?”
“Yes.” She nodded emphatically. “It’s the day after the homecoming dance.”
Eleven days from then. Balthazar slipped the coin into the pocket of his jacket.
Cheek still warm with the shape of his kiss, Embry whipped out her phone.
“I’ll send you a calendar invite right now.
” And she did, texting it to him alone, rather than on the group thread.
She told herself this wasn’t the start of their own side conversation, but she knew he absolutely did not need a calendar invite to remember something he specifically asked for.
Still, he thanked her and mused, “Returning to the subject of homecoming—if I buy your corsage, I have dibs on all the dances, even if the diviner can’t read the room, right?”
Embry tried to swallow and only managed to wedge air between her rising heart and her windpipe, her long-held rules suffocating somewhere along the way.
This didn’t totally break them, per se, but Balthazar’s suggestion did dodge them in a way that he seemed to know she’d find acceptable.
And, well, she did. “I believe,” Embry said a little roughly, “that is the rule. He who buys the corsage has dibs.”
“Well then, that’s what we’ll do.”
Maybe she was weak from the surprise of Alistair’s long-simmering crush, maybe it was because Balthazar’s lips on her cheek had sent a silent shock wave through her body, but for the first time since coming to Raven’s Head, Embry’s resolve cracked.
Embry stood on tiptoe to brush a kiss on his cheek, matching the one he’d just given her.
The scent of cinnamon wrapped her senses as her lips touched his soft, warm skin.
She drew in a tight breath and lowered her heels, suddenly lightheaded…
A feeling that multiplied as she looked up into his blue eyes.
If she was meant to faint right that moment, it had to be the connection between their held gazes that kept her upright. “Thank you for the invitation.”
“It’s a date, Princess.”
Oh Goddess, that was so—
The sound of a throat clearing shattered both her train of thought and the moment.
“Oh, hey, man.” Balthazar greeted someone with a chin nod.
“Hey,” Rye said from behind Embry. “I hope I’m not interrupting something, but I need to borrow Woodcross for a sec. Neighbor stuff.”
“Cool,” Balthazar said. “See you tomorrow, Embry.”
And with one stomach-flipping grin at her, the sorcerer walked toward the dorm.