Page 33 of Magic and Matrimony

“Drink this.” She pushes the cups into both of our faces. I grab it just so it doesn’t spill all over my lap and scald me.

“Will this clear up the spell?” Piper watches Fitz as she wanders around her living room. She straightens the trinkets as she moves. They’re probably enchantments and spells that turn people into a toad or melt their dicks off.

“No, you idiot. It’s soup. You both look unhealthy.” Fitz turns her gaze back to Piper. I wonder if she knows what her true curse is. The one from the Briar Witch. We tend to keep that information on a need-to-know basis only, but it wouldn’t surprise me if Fitz knew everyone’s secrets in this town.

“I’m not really hungry.” I frown into the cup. It doesn’t smell bad, but what if there are lizard hearts and eyeballs in here?

“Eat it.” Fitz points a gnarled finger at me, and I obey.

Warmth spreads out from my stomach into my chest, down my arms and legs until my whole body is suffused with a sense of wellbeing. I feel stronger too, more alert.

“This is great.” I take another sip.

“Of course it is. I made it.” Fitz states as if there was never any doubt. She leans against a bookshelf and stares at the two of us. “Give yourself some time. Test it out if you’d like every now and again, but I believe your geas will fade. Especially if he doesn’t want it.”

“I don’t,” I protest, in case that wasn’t abundantly clear.

Fitz nods to herself, gives us her back, and pulls a book off the shelf. She shuffles back over to her chair and starts reading it.

“What about the hex?” I press when Piper’s face falls.

“You’ll figure it out.” Fitz licks the tip of her finger and flips the page in her book. I want to rip it out of her hand and demand she give us more information. What the fuck kind of answer is that?

“Why the feck are you still here?” Fitz doesn’t even look up from her book. Piper and I hop up off the couch. I take her cup and flounder around, wondering where to put them before finally setting them on a small table with a lamp on them.

“Thank you, Fitz,” Piper says. She’s being polite, but I hear the frustration in her words.

Fitz grunts and flaps her hand in a shooing motion.

We leave Fitz’s house in silence.

17

PIPER

“Ready to go beat someone’s head in?” Ambrose asks as we get into his car. I knew Fitz wouldn’t be effusive in her answers, but I’m disappointed she didn’t know more. Actually, I’m sure she could have shared more with us, but she chose not to.

“Not yet. I’ll let you know if I get the urge to punch someone.” I sigh as I buckle my seatbelt.

“That sounds like a lie, but as long as you don’t punch me, I’m fine with it.”

I roll down the window and let the cool air blow over my face. I’m warm from a combination of frustration and nerves. “I trust you won’t use my curse against me, but I would like to have it gone.”

“Piper, you don’t have to explain to me. I get it. I wouldn’t want anyone having control over me, either. Even if they weren’t going to use it. And I won’t.” He reaffirms as if he wants to make sure I’m clear on the matter.

Ambrose drives us back into town, pulling over next to a food truck. “Let’s get some tacos. You only ate crackers and drank juice yesterday. You must be hungry.”

My stomach growls as if on cue.

“Do I know my wife, or what?” Ambrose taps his temple and my stomach flips at the termwife. How long before the novelty of this wears off for him? How long will it take for me to break this curse so he can be free of me? What if he gets tired of me being around before I can make that happen?

“Come on. Let’s get some food and go eat by the river,” Ambrose says before he gets out of the car.

The sun is shining today, and it’s one of those true spring days when the snow has melted and everything has finally dried out. People are jogging by on the riverfront path in shorts, despite the fact that it’s only forty-five degrees. The sun on my skin feels incredible, and I’m tired of being cooped up after being sick. Vendors line up along the river walk to see a variety of street foods. People who are out shopping in all the quaint stores can grab a bite and take a seat on one of the multiple benches that overlook the water below.

Ambrose orders more food than necessary, and we find an empty bench that overlooks the Briar Hollows River. Almost all of the ice has melted from the surface, but some still clings to the edges where the water meets the shore.

I groan at the first bite of my taco, and Ambrose chuckles. “I should have fed you sooner. I won’t let that happen again.”

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