Jonah rose and slipped his notepad into the inside pocket of his blazer. “Congratulations on surviving your first blast of civic planning, Goldie,” he said, offering a smile that crinkled the corners of his blue eyes. “Did we scare you off?”
“Hardly,” Goldie replied, standing with a flourish of her cloaklet. “Ithriveon drama. It’s practically a vitamin.”
He chuckled, low and genuine. “Then you’re going to love Solstice planning. If you think this was dramatic, just wait until they start debating the legitimacy of the sun’s apogee and whether the ceremonial garland counts as a divinatory instrument.”
Goldie tilted her head, eyes twinkling. “You didn’t say a word through the whole thing.”
Jonah’s mouth quirked. “That’s because I’m only responsible for the boring stuff. Leave the theatrics to the ones who enjoy them.” He gestured faintly toward Carmen as she gathered her binder. “I’ll be buried in ordinances with her in a few hours. Oh, the joy.”
Goldie leaned in, conspiratorial. “Give me your phone.”
His brows lifted, amused, but he handed it over without hesitation.
With a deft flick of her fingers, she typed in her number, saved it underGoldie, and passed it back. “There. Now we can start a thread and make bets on the next meeting. Winner gets bragging rights and possibly more croissants.”
Jonah glanced down at the screen, tapping something in with quick precision. A second later, Goldie felt the soft buzz in her purse.
“There you go. Consider it the first thrilling installment of our civic correspondence.” His eyes flicked up, catching hers with a warmth that lingered just a second too long to be merely friendly. He tucked his phone into his pocket, winked, andstrode out with the kind of unhurried confidence that really should be illegal in government buildings.
Goldie pressed her lips together, fighting a grin as she dug for her phone. She saved his number and scrolled through her notifications.
A ping from the coven group chat lit up the screen.
Lita Baines
Protest’s getting rowdy. Someone hexed a hotdog cart. Call me if you want details.
Goldie snorted. She could already picture Lita’s crow familiar shrieking indignantly at the smell of charred mustard. Her thumb was hovering just over the reply box when the faintest shift in air told her she was no longer alone.
“That went well,” Goldie said dryly as Tamsin came to stand beside her.
“That went exactly as well as it always does,” Tamsin replied, brushing an invisible wrinkle from the front of her caftan. “You did beautifully, by the way. Your facial expressions alone carried the entire second half.”
Goldie tilted her head. “Is there anything I can do to help with Beltane?”
“Oh, we’ll figure it out like we always do.” Tamsin’s voice carried her usual confident dismissal. “Marlow pulled the same routine last year. Claimed the Grove Core was on the verge of cascade failure. In the end, nothing happened but a minor sparkquake and a rerouting of a foot path.”
She gave a soft laugh, then leaned in to brush Goldie’s arm as if sharing a secret. Tamsin’s eyes twinkled slyly. “I saw you sitting with Jonah Pell. Interesting. Do you know him well?”
Goldie blinked, caught off guard. “Oh, no. We just met at the library, actually. He’s nice. What do you know about him?”
Tamsin’s smile widened, faintly amused. “Jonah? He moved here a few years ago. Threw himself into every committee thatwould have him. Solid and dependable. Quite a dear.” Her tone softened, but her eyes sharpened. “And yes, he’s single. Just in case you were wondering. You two looked very cozy together.”
Goldie sputtered, waving a hand. “Cozy? Please. I was just being welcoming. Courteous. Sparkly.”
Tamsin’s hum carried both indulgence and intrigue.
Before Goldie could reply, Simone Mirth appeared at her elbow, a slim velvet box in one hand and a clipboard in the other. “Authorization for the Archives,” she said briskly. “Congratulations, Herald.”
Goldie squealed before she could stop herself. Simone arched a brow but opened the box to reveal a copper-and-glass bracelet, runes etched along its band. “This will get you through the Archive wards. Access is limited to Tuesday through Friday, nine to five. Try not to trigger the warding failsafes, or the shelves will lock you in until closing.”
Goldie slipped the bracelet on, bouncing in her chair. “This is the sexiest thing I’ve ever been handed in a government building. I’ve already started my notes for the speech, and I’ve got costume sketches, and now—now I can actually pull from the originals!”
Tamsin watched her babbling with clear amusement, silver braid gleaming as she tilted her head. “Enthusiasm is half the battle,” she murmured.
Just then, the door creaked open and a harried clerk poked his head in. “Is the committee wrapped up? We need the room for a review session.”
A collective groan rose from those still lingering.
