“Why?”
Prospero was not sure how exactly to answer that question, so she decided to ignore it. “I am hoping you will help me. This is my home and has been so for almost a century and a half. Crenshaw is home, cause, and country. I want Crenshaw to survive, and all of our current and future witches with it. And I know that you are a part of the solution… I just don’t know how.”
Miss Brandeau paused before saying, “So you knew I was a witch when we kissed. That day at the library. You knew. Was that why…”
Prospero tensed.I came to try to kill you. Not really, but notnotreallysounded like the wrong admission, but that was the crux of it. She’d been there to awaken Ellie’s magic. Saying that, however, meant admitting how she’d attempted to do so. It made Prospero an enemy of sorts. That wouldn’t do.
But then Miss Brandeau continued with, “You asked to see me next time because you knew I’d comehere!” It was an altogether nicer conclusion than the truth.
“There was a prophecy about y—”
“Me?I’m not exactly a superhero.” Miss Brandeau gestured at herself, from the top of her average brown hair to her average physique to her sensible shoes. She had no idea she was lovely, or at the least, seemed determined not to admit it. Instead she said, “I’ve read plenty of witchy books, obviously, but unless you need rapid alphabetization skills or semiphotographic memory or research prowess…” She finished with a shrug. “I’m not your person.”
“You are, though.” Prospero gestured and the tea poured itself neatly into two cups. “Sugar? Cream?”
“Black.” Miss Brandeau watched the levitating teapot and cups intently, eyes wide with surprise.
Prospero directed the floating cup toward Miss Brandeau before she added two cubes of precious sugar to her own cup, stirring it with a swirl of her finger in the air. The whole process was done without touchingpot, cup, or sugar by hand. “Prophecies are never wrong, Miss Brandeau. Perhaps it’s your new perspective on the problem, or maybe it’s the nature of your magic—”
“The nature?”
“As I said, all witches have an affinity for a different manifestation of magic. We can all do the basics—levitating objects, brief teleportation—but each witch has a skill that’s rathermore.Plus, we all have improved health that creates longevity.” Prospero tried to keep her words calm.
Miss Brandeau sipped her tea, holding the cup in her hands and watching Prospero warily now. “So yours is a dangerous skill.” She nodded to herself. “Good at violence, you said.”
“True.”
Miss Brandeau stood and paced to a drape-covered window. “You’re asking me to break rules inside a world I don’t even know so far.” She glanced back at Prospero. “And maybe it’s because I am a witch after all, but I can tell you’re hiding things.” She motioned to the drapes. “May I open this?”
Prospero stayed on her settee. “Of course. The windows are charmed to prevent others from looking inside.”
“Of course they are.” Miss Brandeau smiled. “Secretive. You are like this, then. Always?”
“Perhaps.”
Once Miss Brandeau pushed back the drapes, Prospero tried not to stare at her as she watched the town bustle by. The city was rather medieval-meets-faux modern. Most residents never entered the Barbarian Lands from whence they came once they immigrated to Crenshaw. The town layout included an open plaza nearby, and the sidewalks and streets were cobblestone. The ground was worn smooth by countless feet, and the city center—where residents gathered and gossiped—took up a giant square space.
“You can explore once you are settled,” Prospero mentioned when Miss Brandeau said nothing.
Miss Brandeau gestured to a small crowd. “They’re all witches then. Those people.”
“Yes.”
Miss Brandeau let the curtain fall shut with athump.The drapes were a heavy, muffling weight that enabled Prospero to still have her peace despite where she lived. Miss Brandeau stared at her as she added, “I feel like I ought to ask about the hobs or the witches or the crisis. But that’s not where my mind keeps going.”
Prospero’s throat was dry. There was a bit of foolishness to the reaction. She’d bedded more women than she dared imagine back in her pre-witch life, but after a century of living in a witch community, there were rarely anynewwomen of interest. There certainly weren’t any who had made her unable to fulfill her vow to Crenshaw.
Until now.
“What do you want to ask?” Prospero whispered.
Miss Brandeau held her gaze. “If I will get to kiss you again.”
11Maggie
Maggie let herself be carried forward with Sondre, not bothering to suggest he slow his pace as they moved toward a shadowed alcove in the bar.
“I was confused when I arrived, too.” Sondre gave her a kind look. “One minute I was feeling this stabbing pain, and the next… here I am. Strange place. Strange people. I understand how you feel. A lot of peoplelikethe weirdness instantly, but I wasn’t one of them.” He laughed in that way that sounded more irritated than amused. “My current job is a punishment. Typically that is not the case with work here in Crenshaw, though. You were a lawmaker, correct?”
