Page 12 of Thistle Thorns

“Cedar Haven forest.”

More scribbling. “Local honey—”

“Also Cedar Haven.”

“—and opals.”

The family gave me a look, pausing for my inevitable response. “Those are at the Barn Market, actually.”

“The grimoire is a secure as I can make it,” Mom reported next. She didn’t elaborate, and Grandmother didn’t ask for anything further.

“I found suitable attire for some of us in the closet.” Aunt Eranthis gestured to where a small selection of my clothes hung from hangers on the banister. “I found no sewing machine, so that means we’ll have to go thrifting.”

Once again, the family turned to me. I took another sip of my tea and answered, “Barn Market.”

“I’ll need to go shopping,” Aunt Peony announced. “This pantry and fridge aren’t equipped to feed this many of us, though I did find a good deal of beef in the chest freezer.” She gave me a smile. “You have a very nice vegetable garden, Meadow.”

“Your mushrooms could use some more water, though,” Aunt Hyacinth put in.

I ignored Aunt Hyacinth’s comment and dutifully told my other aunt, “Galloway’s.”

“And where is there to get good coffee in bulk?” Aunt Peony asked. “This little moka pot isn’t going to cut it.”

“The Magic Brewery. It’s on the square.”

“That’s it, then,” Grandmother announced, finishing her tea and standing. “Peony and Otter, you’re on grocery and coffee duty. Check for—”

“Kalamata olives, yes, I know,” Aunt Peony said. “Green olives stuffed with bleu cheese if they don’t have them. Tinned plain black olives as a last resort.”

Grandmother ignored the interruption. “Forsythia, establish a connection with the family back at the manor, then guard the grimoire. Badger,” she called into the hole in the floor, “you’re staying here as protection detail.”

“Okay,” his voice echoed up from the crawlspace.

“Everyone else, we’re going first to this Barn Market so we can blend in to this little town and then to this Cedar Haven for the rest of the spell ingredients. Meadow—”

“Is coming with you,” I finished.

I don’t know where I got the gall from, but some part of me—the part that kept speaking out—was demanding I be treated as an equal, not someone she could order around like she could have back home. We weren’t at Hawthorne Manor; we were in my farmhouse, in my adopted town, and I’d meant what I’d said about not being a princess locked in a tower.

“Unless,” I added, “you’d like to waste time wandering around when I could just direct you straight to whatever you need. I have been foraging in those woods before, you know.”

She shook her head. “Not while you’ve been exposed. You’ve always had a layer of protection over you. Until now.”

“Well it’s a good thing you four are coming with me, then, isn’t it?”

Grandmother was reaching the end of her patience. “Meadow, you don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me,” I fired back. “Why are the deep woods forbidden? Why can’t I ‘consort with’ shifters? Why—”

“Not. Now.” There was magic in her voice and eyes, and while the rest of the coven flinched, I remained standing, holding my makeshift teacup in a grip that threatened to crack the ceramic.

“I’m not a child—”

“Then stop acting like one,” she thundered. “Stop resisting me at every turn. Stop being so obstinate. Marten is lost because of you—”

“Mother!” Mom protested.

“—and your assumptions—”

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