Page 1 of Bearly Bewitched

ONE

The scent of bergamot mingled with the sweet aroma of wild mountain roses drifting through open windows as Vail sank into a plush armchair, finally allowing herself to relax. Magic hummed beneath her skin, no longer restrained as it had been in Salem. Here in Mystic Hollow, she could simplybe.

Afternoon sunlight painted golden patterns across the cottage’s hardwood floors, highlighting the thoughtful arrangement of her belongings. Her great-aunts had organized everything exactly as she would have—books alphabetized on mahogany shelves, her favorite throw draped just so across the reading nook, even her extensive collection of crystals arranged by magical resonance on the windowsills.

“The cottage has been waiting for you,” Madame Zephyrine said, her silver hair catching the light as she poured tea with practiced grace. The delicate china cups clinked musically, a sound that took Vail back to childhood afternoons spent learning spells in her aunts’ kitchen.

“Indeed.” Neve adjusted her shawl, settling into the window seat with fluid elegance. “Those dormant roses in the gardensprung to life the moment you crossed the threshold. They recognize your fire magic.”

Vail touched the crescent-shaped birthmark on her left wrist, a habit when considering magical theory. “The soil here feels different than Salem’s. More... alive somehow. I’m thinking of starting an herb garden for?—”

A rapid knock interrupted her thoughts, followed by the kind of excited chatter that made her heart lift with recognition. The door burst open before she could rise, revealing three faces she’d missed more than she’d realized.

“You’re finally here!” Romi practically danced through the doorway, her light brown curls bouncing with characteristic enthusiasm. Her magic sparkled in the air around her, bright and effervescent as champagne bubbles.

Clover followed, somehow managing to look both elegant and adorably flustered as she navigated the doorway with an enormous welcome basket. Something inside emitted a musical chime, followed by what sounded suspiciously like a purr.

Sabine brought up the rear, honey-blonde waves catching impossible amounts of sunlight, her natural grace heightened by her tigress nature. Her dual magical heritage filled the room with a warmth and power that had the roses outside stretching toward the windows.

“We tried waiting,” Clover said, setting down her basket with careful precision. “For about five minutes.”

“Which was four minutes longer than some of us wanted to wait.” Sabine shot Romi a pointed look that dissolved into a grin.

Before Vail could formulate a response, she found herself engulfed in a group hug. Their magical signatures harmonized around her—Romi’s spark, Clover’s earthen strength, and Sabine’s wisdom of past lives woven into her shifter power—together in a melody of friendship that made her eyes sting.

For the first time since leaving Salem, Vail felt completely, utterly at home.

“I literally arrived an hour ago,” she managed, laughing as they finally released her. She brushed at her eyes, not quite succeeding in hiding her emotion.

“Perfect timing then!” Romi clapped her hands, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You haven’t had time to meet anyone interesting yet.”

Vail caught Sabine’s knowing look. “What?”

“Nothing,” Sabine said quickly—too quickly, sharing a glance with Clover that set off every warning bell in Vail’s mind.

“Oh no.” Vail held up her hands as Romi and Clover exchanged that particular look she remembered all too well from their school days. “Whatever matchmaking scheme you’re plotting, stop right there. I’m here to be Headmistress of Arcane Academy, not to find romance.”

“But, darling,” Madame Zephyrine chimed in, her eyes twinkling with centuries of mischief, “who says you can’t do both?”

“Great-Aunt Zephyrine, not you too.” Vail sank deeper into her chair, accepting the teacup Neve offered with a sympathetic smile. She took a fortifying sip, letting the perfectly brewed Earl Grey soothe her nerves.

“We’re just saying,” Romi perched on the arm of Vail’s chair, her magic crackling with excitement, “that the right person wouldn’t ask you to be less than who you are.”

“Or expect you to dim your fire,” Clover added softly, settling cross-legged on a floor cushion. A tendril of her earth magic reached out, making the potted plants nearest her stretch and bloom.

“Unlike certain ex-fiancés who shall remain nameless,” Sabine muttered, earning herself an elbow from Clover.

“Ames,” Vail said flatly, setting her teacup down with more force than necessary. “We can say his name. And we can acknowledge that I wasted six years trying to make myself smaller, dimmer, and moreconventionalto suit him.” The words tasted bitter, like burnt sage and regret. “And the worst part? He had the nerve to argue with me about how perfect everything was and how I lost my mind.”

Her fire magic stirred beneath her skin, responding to the old hurt. In Salem, she would have had to tamp it down, to keep the flames from manifesting. Here, she let the magic rise, warming the air around her. None of her friends so much as blinked as small flames danced across her fingertips.

“Exactly our point,” Romi insisted, completely unfazed by the display of power that would have sent humans running. “The right man would love your fire, not try to extinguish it. He’d support your dreams instead of competing with them.”

“Remember how I used to say the same thing?” Sabine’s voice softened. “That I was not interested in relationships. I was only focused on my shop. Then Ren walked in and?—”

“And now you’re disgustingly happy,” Vail finished, but couldn’t help smiling at her friend’s obvious joy. “I know. But I’m not looking for that.”

Not looking to compromise myself again, she thought but didn’t say.Not looking to pour my energy into someone who’ll never make the same effort for me. Not looking to explain, yet again, why my magic matters more than mundane concerns about dinner parties and social climbing. If it were up to Ames, onlyhismagic mattered. Onlyhiscareer.Hisvoice.Him.

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