My mouth went dry. My wide eyes fixed on Sterling, scared of how he would react. I didn’t want to get Griffin’s wife in trouble, and I didn’t want to know if Sterling hated magic as much as the Force’s reputation predicted.
“That’s significant,” Sterling said, rubbing his chin while he eyed the wood grain of the desk. His eyes found the dark burnt spot from where I had attempted my teleportation enchantment. Telekinetic magic had always been my weakest area, and I should’ve known better than to practice indoors. “What happened here?”
“Nothing,” I answered before Jasmine could tell him I was a witch too.
Sterling narrowed his eyes at me. “Are you okay, Cassian?”
I could feel myself sweating despite the ice freezing the window behind me. A Force officer was seconds away from discovering my magic. Of course I wasn’t okay. “Are you going to arrest her now that you know she’s a witch?” I asked.
“Witchcraft isn’t illegal,” Sterling said.
“The Force treats it like it is,” I said.
Sterling’s eyes found the burnt wood again, and I tried to refrain from cursing. He was an investigator. Of course he’d put the pieces together. “Relax, Cassian,” he said, smiling at me. “Nobody’s getting arrested for magic unless it was done illegally.”
That was the problem with magical law. It was subjective and often unfair. One officer’s definition of illegal magic could differ from any other officer’s definition. “How do you define illegal?”
“In this case, I would say the illegality of the curse is an obstruction of livelihood. It is affecting you, Jasmine, Olive, and Griffin from maintaining a livable life, and clearly done with malicious intent.”
“How do you prove malicious intent?”
Sterling sighed through his nose. “You calledmehere, Cassian. You know it was intentional.”
“I’m sorry, you’re right…” I said, rubbing my forehead. “I’m sorry.”
“The nature of the curse is evidence of intent, to answer your question. That’s not true with all types of magic, but in this case, it’s pretty clear,” Sterling explained. “We will, of course, need to see the curse in order to use it as evidence against anyone, so before we break it, one of you will have to show me an official diagnosis.”
“What makes you think we can do that?” I asked.
Sterling chuckled. “Hire someone, Cassian.”
Gods, I was a terrible liar.
STERLING
So, Cassian was a witch. That was an interesting turn. That explained how cagey everyone was being about his time in Ladiall.
I wish he had just told me. It’s a shame how the Force’s reputation has turned lately, but I can’t say it’s unwarranted. Some of my colleagues lived that stereotype.
After our conversation, Griffin was my first suspect. It was hard to find time to speak with him as the inn filled with guests, especially since Cassian didn’t want me letting on that I was doing anything more than helping to break the curse. I wondered why Griffin hadn’t asked his wife to help if she was a witch.
Griffin avoided me when he could. I couldn’t even catch him going home the next evening, because he left without sayinggoodbye. I gave up trying to find a moment with him and decided to ask Cassian for help.
“Cassian,” I said, stopping at the front counter in the early afternoon when he had a rare moment to spare.
“Hi, Sterling!” he said, shining his warm smile my way.
“Can you help me find a moment to speak with Griffin?”
“Sure!” Cassian said just as an older gentleman entered the inn and trudged up to the counter. “Just a second, Turnip,” he whispered. It was his new nickname for me. He was poking fun at my surname, but I hated how much it felt like a term of endearment.
“Give me a room,” the old man grunted.
Cassian cheerfully began to explain the donation system, but the old man stopped him.
“Great, a free room. I don’t need to hear all that,” he said, waving his hand in the air.
“Oh—all right.” Cassian’s face went blank as he opened the key drawer.
