Page 12 of Wildfire Witch

Though… I couldn’t help a bit of good-natured jealousy of how fast and easy it was for them to fall in love. My alchemy table, books, and experiments were the company I preferred. I’d developed a tart tongue and a learned opinion, things older men didn’t like in a potential bride. I refused to act demure to find a husband, despite my parents’ growing fears I would become a spinster because of it.

The moon shaded as red as blood that night, as Melisande ascended. I bore witness to the ceremony, though as my memory looked into the sky, for a moment I was self-aware this was the distant past and that I was still Nix, watching the festivities of long ago with a tourist’s awe.

Time skipped past. I grew to become the town’s resident alchemist, running a business from the first floor of the Carmine family’s house after my parents passed and Royce moved to be with Melisande as one of her lovers. Though single, I had the respect of the community for the power of the items I brewed at my table.

I was there when Melisande declared her intent to take an eligible man from each of the nine witch families as her consorts,laughing my ass off at the scandalized expressions of the elderly council members who failed to deter her. Melisande grew into a powerful leader, a mother, and a force that attracted attention from supernatural communities across the new world. She turned Spells Hollow into a utopia for all peoples who possessed magic.

And I was amongst the first to advise Melisande to banish or kill the one man she rejected from her cadre of talented consorts—Morfran, the self-named “Sorcerer of Spells Hollow” who will not take her no for an answer, despite hearing it far too many times.

“Spells Hollow is a sanctuary for all with magic, Ver,” she’d told me. She waved away the idea with a fond laugh, used to my sharp-tongued suggestions. “I cannot tarnish my grandmother’s legacy just because I suspect one of our own is experimenting with the darker side of his powers.”

“It is your call,” I’d acknowledged begrudgingly.But it’s wrong,I didn’t add aloud.

“It would be as wrong as banishing you for your experiments with the symmetry of magic. And you know I would never do that to you.” She ended the conversation with this, and a hug, like the matter was concluded.

I was officially labeled a spinster,too old and opinionated to be wed by the few remaining men in our small community. It didn’t help that Melisande had removedeightbachelors that Icould’ve married, but alas. My partner clearly had to come from another town, and he arrived with the breeze one afternoon.

The Wind Court, a distant entity in those times, flew across the continent to make an alliance with us. They were a beautiful people universally, honed to a deadly edge in the way only fae can appear. As we celebrated their arrival, I admired their frosty hair and long, graceful limbs. Some had wings, gigantic versions of butterfly or bird wings, though others had made the flight here by allegedly hurtling themselves through the sky with sheer wind magic.

It was fascinating, and I quizzed the handsome guard Ceridor Farrick while he had to stand in one place, minding his duty as a guard for the wind lord he served. He didn’t seem to mind my endless questions or the fact that, at first, I only searched him out when he was a captive audience.

When he was off duty, he found me in my shop, and leaned against the counter while I worked on fulfilling orders at my alchemy table or experimented with elemental magic.

He was a shockingly young fae. Not that fae weren’t allowed to be young, but he was the same age as I was. Possessed of fae beauty, but not the cruelty his elders all seemed to have; I talked to him for hours at a time without noticing the time passing.

His silver eyes never dimmed with boredom, even when I droned on about transmutation and my experiments with balancing my internal symmetry to perfectly reflect the four elements. I demonstrated how I had changed myself already so I could, at will, summon washes of water or eddies of air, displaying the equivalent of party tricks while sweating profusely for the effort. He applauded like I’d worked the greatest magics while I took playful bows.

Eventually, he returned to the Wind Court with his lord and the rest of their group. Melisande turned to me once the flying fae were mere specs in the sky, and said, “Tell me about your man. I drew out the negotiations as long as possible to give you more time together.”

I blushed nearly as red as my hair. “That wasn’t necessary! We had many a friendly conversation, is all,” I protested.

“Please,” she scoffed. “He was completely enamored with you. And why wouldn’t he be? You’re pretty, intelligent, driven…and eligible.” She turned a knowing look over at me. “I give him a fortnight before he returns for you.”

And my friend, in all her wisdom, was right. I missed every silvery-blue curl on Ceridor’s head until I looked up two weeks later to find him in his customary spot leaning against my counter. “Good morning, lady alchemist. I seem to have misplaced something important.” He flashed a smile so warm, it was like the sun emerging from a bank of clouds and my heart doubled its beating.

I fumbled my tools with a clatter. I could barely think when he looked at me like that. “What thing might that be?” I asked.

He rounded the counter and approached my table, reaching up to skim his fingertips over my cheek. “My good sense, for choosing to leave rather than staying here with you,” he answered. He brought his lips to mine, and I melted into his kiss. I found my place in his arms was as logical as the flow of the elements.

Our union was soon secured with a handfasting, the ceremony performed before a mixed audience of fae and witches, a symbolic act between our different peoples. Melisande’s eyeswelled with happy tears as she tied the cord and completed our marriage.

Ceridor’s wind lord cast the spell that marked my new husband’s arm to the elbow with a series of marks representing wind that I would later memorize by tracing them with my fingertips. The same spell gave me a single symbol that spanned the back of my hand, the upright triangle with a line through it that made the element of air.

I had never been happier, nor had my husband, who cupped my face and said permanent vows over me in the tongue of the Wind Court. He never translated, but Ifeltthem in my marrow. He promised to be loyal, to always protect me, and to cherish me as his fated mate.

I made my vows too, tasting the mint at the back of my mouth that was the residue of the fae magic binding me to him in return. From that day forth, I wore a bracelet made of his magic, a stunning piece of jewelry that marked me as his.

Not even Morfran, uninvited and scowling at the back of the room, could dampen my spirits on that day.

Aodhnait grewto what she called a “respectable age” as more time passed. She did not incinerate into a pile of ash to start a new life, as she enjoyed her current one too much.

Melisande and her men welcomed more children, and I helped raise them as an aunt to the big group. I wanted one of my own, but despite quaffing an endless series of fertility tonicsand potions, I never fell pregnant with a child. Ceridor held me tight in the night and promised that fae children were rare and hybrids, even more so. That didn’t stop us from trying vigorously and often.

It didn’t help that Ceridor spent chunks of time away at the Wind Court, serving as a part-time guard. He was allowed to leave to live with me because I was his fated mate, but he still had to return because of a fae deal sealed contract with his wind lord that wouldn’t be up for four more decades.

He would return to sweep me straight to bed, as the first thing he did when he finished the flight to Spells Hollow. Some men grew tired of their wives and their aging bodies, but my man’s intensity never dimmed. I was a satisfied woman each day he spent with me. I was his firefly, the Ver to his Cer, when we used such nicknames. I’d never realized love could feel so fulfilling before I had him in my life.

While he was away, I continued working on perfecting the balance of elements within me. Wind and water answered my whims more often now as I honed my magical symmetry and discovered more ways that I could brew unique potions to sell and use. But fire remained the domain of my familiar alone. I was a great success and yet, also a grand failure at the one thing I had originally wanted.

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