“Everything except shadowbell.”
He frowned, his nose scrunching. “So, what do we do?”
“Nothing for now. The spell will have to wait until tomorrow. I’ve got a few other spots in mind that might have it, but we’re losing light fast, and I’m not about to sacrifice myother arm.”
He nodded, swinging onto his horse with an ease that still annoyed her. “So—one more day of our nightmare mash-up, then?”
She bit her lip, her mind already sketching out the tangled lines of a counter-curse in which she wasn’t entirely confident. They’d be lucky if she could untangle the mess in a single day. But she didn’t admit that. Just nodded, quick and curt.
Wesley seemed satisfied—or at least didn’t push. But on the ride back, Maude couldn’t shake the sensation of his curious gaze on her.
Six
The ride back to the stables was mercifully quiet, the sun sinking low on the horizon and casting the sky in shades of orange and blush pink.
Oli’s manor came into view at the crest of a gently sloping hill, its silhouette elegant and imposing against the glowing sky. The sprawling estate was a patchwork of ivy-covered stone and towering chimneys, with tall windows that reflected the last light of day like molten gold. The slanted slate roof had peaks crowned with decorative ironwork, and the chimneys puffed faint wisps of smoke into the cool evening air.
As Maude and Wesley approached, Oli bounded across the gardens like an overly enthusiastic puppy.
“Well, well, if it isn’t my two favorite shopkeepers!” he called out.
Maude narrowed her eyes as Wesley dismounted, handing the reins to Sylvie, who had just emerged from the stalls. “Oliver, always a pleasure,” he said with practiced politeness, turning to offer a hand to Maude.
She ignored him at first, shifting and resettling to find a position that didn’t send fresh pain shooting up her arm. After a few awkward tries, she huffed and grudgingly accepted his help. Herscowl deepened when his other hand went straight to her waist, steadying her as she swung her leg over the saddle.
Oli’s brow shot up. “Careful there—how bad is the arm?” She waved him off, and only then did his grin return. “Maude, when I suggested you two collaborate to boost your sales, I didn’t realize you’d take it so literally.”
“Ha-ha,” she deadpanned, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “So, you saw the shops?”
Oli let out a laugh. “Impossible to miss. Looks like an alchemist and a confectioner had a drunken love child.” His gaze flicked to Wesley. “Now, I knowyouhad nothing to do with this. Maude’s the brightest witch in all of Mistwood Hills, but even she’s going to have her hands full fixing that before the party. Did you want to use my kitchen to prep?”
Wesley’s relief was visible. “Saints, yes. My flat’s a glorified closet with a sink.”
“Perfect.” Oli clapped his hands together, beaming.
Maude shifted her weight to one hip “Wait—you’re throwing a party? Since when?”
“It’s not really a party, per se,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “More like…a business meeting. With a couple of sponsors and vendors. For a new project.” Maude narrowed her eyes, but before she could speak, Oli raised a hand, words spilling out. “It’s still very much an idea—barely brewing. I was going to tell you when I had an actual plan.”
He didn’t owe her an explanation, technically, but Maude was so used to Oli oversharing—down to the details of his skincare routine and bowel movements—that this felt borderline treasonous. Keeping something this big from her? Strange didn’t even begin to cover it. She bit her lip, debating whether to push him, but let it slide.
For now.
Oli turned his full attention back to Wesley, all charm and enthusiasm. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll have it ready at thehouse. Feel free to set up and work as you please—and, of course, I’m happy to help if you like.”
Oli’s warm, mischievous smile practically lit up the clearing, and Maude fought the urge to roll her eyes. Yeah, he wasn’t acting like Wesley wasn’t his typeat all.
“In fact,” Oli continued, “Maude was just telling me how much she’s been wanting to get into baking. What do you think about a pair of sous-chefs to help you make up for lost time?”
Wesley’s gaze slid to Maude like he could smell the lie from across the yard. “Sure…that sounds great.”
“Yeah,” Maude ground out, her teeth clicking on the word. “Great.”
Oli’s grin widened, and Maude swore she could see the matchmaking gears turning in his head. She shot him a glare, silently promising payback—something involving permanent glitter or a hex that made him hiccup every time he said her name.
Still, she didn’t argue. Not because she wanted to play house in Oli’s kitchen, but because technically…technicallyit was her fault. She’d blown up Wesley’s shop. If the wreck bled over into Oli’s party, she’d never hear the end of it. No, better to grit her teeth, suck it up, and pretend to cooperate.
She adjusted her bag with a tug and stalked toward the house.
