Page 7 of Muddled Magic

“You’re looking for a wife?” I gasped. “Why you romantic sap!”

“You’re gonna leave me alone with Marten in the bachelor wing?” Otter shouted. “I thought we were bros!”

“I haven’t found anyone yet,” Boar snapped. Then he pointed a warning finger at me. “Someday you’ll want to share your life with somebody, Meadow, and then you’ll be the romantic sap.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’ve had my fill of Jeremy Rooks, thank you very much.”

They all knew about my teenage crush—both on the boy and what he’d done to my heart. It was impossible to keep things from this family.

Boar shook his head. “A real man wouldn’t have let Lilac steal him away from you.”

The passing years had made me come to realize I was glad she had, though I’d hated her for a good long time after and it’d taken years to mend our relationship. I’d still never asked her why—Jeremy wasn’t even her type, bookish when she preferred jocks—for fear she’d tell me she’d just been bored.

After that fiasco, I decided I had no time for fickle men. I wanted something real, a love similar to the ones I read about in my books. The irony was not lost on me.

Then Boar added, “But that’s also an example of a time you could’ve fought for something you wanted and didn’t.”

“Why are you telling me this? Marten—”

“We all knew the Circle ceremony was coming, and what was Marten doing? Advocating for himself to whoever would listen. Did you?”

Despite trying not to pout, I felt my bottom lip pushing out in displeasure. “I didn’t know that was an option,” I admitted. Then I threw up my hands. “But there’s nothing I can do about it now, regardless how I feel!”

“Isn’t there?” Otter asked slyly, fingers sliding along the guitar frets.

“No games, Otter. What are you talking about?”

“He’s been chosen by the family, sure, but he hasn’t been ordained yet. The grimoire still needs to recognize him as a robed elder. That’s a whole different ceremony. Probably tonight, given that it’s a full moon and we witches are an auspicious lot. When that happens, then it’s really final. Set in stone, after a fashion. So you have some time left to plead your case and get what you want out of life, don’t you?”

My heart fluttered as my dashed hopes once again took wing. “Are you… kidding me?” My cousin was often as playful as his name suggested, teasing when he ought to be serious.

Otter shook his head, his brown hair swishing across his eyes. Then he winked. “Seems you’ve still a bit to learn about magic, don’t you, little prodigy?”

His music became louder as he leaned back on the wood pile, shimmying his long length into a more comfortable position. The kitten surfed the undulating of his lap until Otter finally settled, resituating itself and closing its eyes for an early morning nap. “Now run along, little witch,” Otter said. “We’ve got work to do, and it seems you have a destiny to change.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Hurrying into the vegetable gardens, for while I was filled with the fervor to alter my life’s course, I still was very mindful of obeying my elders, which meant being on time to my chores, I didn’t stop to pick up a basket and a set of gloves but rather rushed up right to Aunt Hyacinth.

“Auntie,” I announced breathlessly, “I need to see Grandmother.”

My aunt adjusted the fit of her broad-brimmed hat before planting her hands on her curvy hips. “Oh? And does this have anything to do with you sharing a chore with your brother today?”

My fingers twitched, threatening to ball into fists, but I refrained, forcing a smile instead. “No, actually.”

We’d been taught from a very young age not to lie, unless you wanted your backside thwacked with a switch, so Aunt Hyacinth’s eyebrows rose at my unexpected answer. Then her eyes narrowed, assessing me.

I stood my ground, chin lifted.

“Hmm, well, you can’t.”

“But, Auntie—”

“Because she’s not here, Meadow, not because I’m being a horrid aunt.” She thrust a gardening apron at me, followed by a hat and gloves.

“She’s gone? Where? And who’s with her?” A coven witch never went anywhere without a fellow sister or brother, for our strength was rooted and amplified in our numbers, unlike hedge witches who drew their strength only from themselves.

“Believe it or not, she doesn’t have to tell us where she’s going. And your father and uncle Stag are with her.”

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