Page 102 of Truly Madly Magically

THE DAY BEFORE Samhain dawns with the sweet rarity of Zander still in bed with me when I finally decide to wake up. Usually he’s already off at the ferry, taking those early shifts with Jacob or Frost accompanying him.

Today he’s here. The morning outside is gray and drizzly, and he pulls me into him. Warm and steady. We don’t say anything. We just hold on to each other for a little bit.

When my stomach demands we get up, we head downstairs into the kitchen. It’s clear Emerson and Georgie have already been down here, magicking breakfast feasts and leaving them on magical warmers for those of us who prefer to stay in our beds until a more reasonable hour.

Before Zander and I can even settle ourselves at the table, Elspeth Wilde walks in. She doesn’t seem surprised to see us here, the way we certainly are to see her. Sure, Jacob mentioned she’d be at the ritual, but I’m not emotionally prepared for awkward breakfasts with this woman who’s never liked me.

Something she’s made all too clear over the years.

I brace myself as she stands there, looking at us both with that cool gaze of hers. Then I notice that her hands are clasped tight...an odd sign of something that on anyone else I would call nerves.

Maybe I’m still asleep and dreaming.

“Good morning, Zander. Ellowyn.”

She says this without her trademark sniff of disdain. I look up at Zander, expecting to see a similar befuddlement. His expression is blank.

That’s not good.

Elspeth clears her throat like she knows it. “It seems congratulations are in order,” she says, and though she sounds stiff, the way she nods toward my rounded stomach seems surprisingly genuine. She even attempts a smile. “A child is a great blessing.”

I think not that long ago I would have found something really scathing to say to that, but my hand is in Zander’s, and I can feel his tension. I’m not sure being my usual snarky self would help this situation.

“I...brought a gift,” Elspeth continues, letting the shocks keep coming. She holds out her hands, palms up, and a small box appears. She makes as if to hand it to Zander.

He doesn’t take it.

There’s a beat where I can’t tell if Elspeth is hurt or angry, or if I might want to jump in and do something to make this moment less awful, but then she simply lifts the lid off the box herself. “When we were girls, Zelda and I used to make each other things. Flower crowns, bracelets, rings. Your mother was always better at it than I was, Zander.”

She tilts the box so I can see a delicate crown of violet blooms. All braided together by the stems. Clearly enchanted, so the flowers remain living all these years later.

Zelda’s work, I think, even as Elspeth confirms it. “She made this for me many years ago, and it was one of the few things I kept all these years, even though we didn’t...” She breaks off. “I’d like the child to have this.”

I glance at Zander. His gaze isn’t exactly friendly, but he doesn’t turn away or look too thunderous. So I take the box from her.

“Thank you,” I offer. I don’t know what else to say. It’s very kind and sentimental—two things I would have told you Elspeth isn’t.

The fact our daughter will have something made by Zelda’s own hands, back when she was a girl herself, threatens to make me so emotional my eyes might fill up again.

Elspeth doesn’t leave the way I expect her to, now that she’s bestowed her gift. She keeps her gaze on Zander. “I suppose I haven’t been a very good aunt to you, Zander.”

“You suppose?” he returns, his brow raised.

Elspeth’s mouth firms, but she doesn’t back away. She also doesn’t let loose with one of her lectures. It’s like she’s possessed.

“I will endeavor to take my role as great-aunt more seriously.” She really, truly smiles at us both then. It’s a tight, frigid kind of smile, sure, but it’s real. “Tonight, I’m not standing only for my daughters and their coven, or my nephew, or my grand-niece, or even my community. Tonight, at the ritual, I’m standing for my sister in a way I should have when she was alive.”

I’m struck absolutely silent. Almost more than when Elspeth stood up for us at Litha. If you’d asked me ten years ago what adults would be only too eager to sign our death warrants, I’d have put Elspeth pretty high up on that list.

Zander still says nothing. Elspeth gives a little nod, then turns to go. She’s almost out of the kitchen before Zander finally speaks again.

When I thought he wouldn’t.

“She’d forgive you, you know.” His voice is raw. “I don’t know if I can, but I bet she already has.”

Elspeth turns back. Her eyes are bright, but she doesn’t cry. “Thank you,” she says, a lifetime of emotion there in her voice. Then she does leave the kitchen, her back straight, and I blink back as many tears as I can.

“Don’t cry,” Zander mutters gruffly as he pulls me in close, resting his chin on the top of my head.

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