Page 17 of Truly Madly Magically

“After,” I mutter, focusing on a point near his eyebrow.

Because I can’t deal with real Zander. Not yet. Not today. Not with Rebekah not-exactly-mad at me and the plans Emerson wants to make for the coming ascension that she thinks we’ll win and a baby everyone now knows is coming. I feel as if all my edges have gone soft, and I hate it.

Edge-free Ellowyn is nobody I want to meet. Much less be. That’s got disaster and disappointment written all over it.

“Zander,” I say, and I hate that there’s even the faintest bit of pleading in my voice. I try to make it firmer. I’m so busy doing that, I accidentally look him full in the eyes, all thunder and hard rain and too many other things I don’t want to see. “We can talk after breakfast. I’m hungry.”

That’s true. I said it. I also make a vague sort of gesture toward my belly, as if the baby is demanding I feed it immediately or risk...something. Which is not true.

Given my unsolicited and unwanted relationship with the truth, I usually take it as a win when I get away with stretching it.

Today I just feel like a jerk, because Zander steps out of my way immediately, looking alarmed and concerned and cute and... I can’t start thinking of him as cute. That’s a surefire way to sand off all my trademark edges entirely, and I can’t let it happen.

I feel a little too shaken—and maybe a little ashamed of myself—as we head downstairs. Maybe that’s why it feels like the unsettling dragon-shaped newel post at the foot of the stairs is glaring at me as I pass it.

I know the dragon has a name. Azrael. That doesn’t make me feel any better about his gleaming onyx eyes. I murmur a protection spell as we make our way into the big, cozy kitchen.

Emerson and Jacob and Georgie are whipping up a huge breakfast spread, clearly trying to outdo each other as they magic their favorite dishes into place until it looks like the table might collapse under the weight of all those sweet carbs and bacon. Rebekah and Frost are sharing a chair and a coffee mug, clearly having one of their private, silent discussions that I assume must be about the things they get up to in bed, which, mercifully, she no longer shares with me. He looks entertained, something he really only does when he’s around her. She just looks...happy, even with everything we have to face.

I tell myself happiness is for other people, and Rebekah certainly deserves hers. Some of us don’t get that gift, and that’s okay. Here we are, showing up anyway, because that’s what matters in the end. What you do, not how you feel while you’re doing it.

We gather around the table. Rebekah takes her own seat and starts passing the plates around. Emerson starts us off by asking Zander to recount what happened from the moment he got home until the moment we got to Wilde House last night.

Zander’s explanation matches mine almost exactly, except I add a few digs into the whole protective bubble situation and what I think of his bullshit, and with every word I feel more like myself and less like that...soft thing upstairs.

I decide I might make it through this pregnancy after all.

Zander stabs a sausage link with his fork. “It’s the Joywood. It has to be.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Frost says mildly. “There’s no shortage of evil.”

That puts a decided pall on the conversation, but not for long, because Emerson won’t be deterred. “The most reasonable conclusion is that it is Joywood and ascension-related,” she says. Decisively, as always, and the thing about Emerson is that she’s usually right. “So we’ll continue with that theory until we can figure out what and why, or learn something new that changes the conclusion. We need to be careful. I want to keep everyone close. We’ll stay here as long as we have to, and no one goes anywhere alone.”

That doesn’t go over well.

“I have a ferry and a bar to run,” Zander says gruffly. “Dad wants to pitch in, but he’s not up to it all the time, and I’m not going to push him on that. We’ve got Finn helping, but he’s still new.”

I think of Zelda sitting on my bed last night. Of the look on her face. My throat feels so tight that I don’t dare try to eat anything else, in case I choke.

“Rebekah can work anywhere,” Emerson says, very calmly, nodding at her sister, who nods back. “Frost has no job other than to research with Georgie.”

“Some,” Frost says repressively, “consider that sort of research the only job.”

“Yes, Nicholas,” Rebekah murmurs, and pats his arm. “You’re very important.”

“Jacob goes all over the place to heal witches in need, but he can also transport them here if necessary.” Emerson exchanges a look with Jacob, who smiles, a fond look in his eyes that feels too intimate to share with a whole tableful of friends and family. It also indicates they’ve already worked this out. Emerson turns to me. “The bookstore and the tea shop are closed today, so Ellowyn and I are available to make sure no one with outside responsibilities is alone.”

“It didn’t attack when Zander was alone,” Rebekah points out. “What’s moving in pairs going to do?”

“Help,” Emerson says as if she predicted that question. She probably did. “Ellowyn said it herself. Zander noticed the shadow a second or two before she did, and that second or two made all the difference.”

“Because I put a safety spell on you,” Zander mutters to me.

I wish I had a ready comeback for that, but I’ve had a night’s sleep, and I have to admit that it’s true. He protected me. And because he did, I had the presence of mind to reach out for our friends so we could all fight off the attack. Together.

Maybe I don’t want to wander around St. Cyprian in pairs, but it seems obvious that it’s the safer option, and we have to be safe. For the baby if nothing else.

No one said I had to like it. I feel like that’s a parenting lesson right there.

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