Sondre laughed abruptly, seemingly surprised by his own burst of chuckles, but then he nodded and clapped Dan’s shoulder. “Right you are, Danny Boy. Right you are. Could always be worse!”
Then he wandered off, greeting several other students and seeming far more jovial than he had appeared thus far in Dan’s experience. It was an act, though. Dan was sure of that. He doubted much brought genuine smiles to Sondre’s face, but he wanted the grumpy man to like him.
Build a new life. Make friends. Connections for when I am guaranteed to stay.
Dan glanced at Axell, who was chatting with Ana and Maggie, and made his way toward them. They were staying, too: Ana because he couldn’t imagine anyone telling her no, Maggie because Sondre liked her, and Axell because… but Dan would ask Sondre if he had to. Helikedthe Norwegian man.
“Daniel!” Axell called.
Dan rejoined him. Maybe it was as simple as being told Sondre could make it so Dan could stay. Maybe it was being treated like he was important. It didn’t really matter, though. Dan would do whatever Sondre asked to stay here and healthy.
And far away from that snake.
He felt certain it would be fine as Axell’s arm reached out and pulled him close. No one had ever acted like that, like Dan’s presence mattered, like his nearness was exciting.
I fucking love being a witch.
25Prospero
Walter and Sondre were the only two people at the tea shop when Prospero arrived. No one questioned their odd collective, but she knew without doubt that they were being watched. Such was the nature of a town on the edge of panic.
“Lady Prospero,” Walter said, standing at her arrival.
“Chief Witch.” She nodded her head in greeting. The old Scotsman was probably the person she most trusted other than Cassandra and Scylla—the difference was that Cassandra was cagey, and both Scylla and Walt were very direct. It was why she called in favors to appoint him chief witch. Crenshaw was at a crossroads, and someone able to be objective had to be the balancing voice.
Sondre did not stand. He kicked a chair out and slid an empty teacup toward her.
“About the new witch…” Walter started. “She should’ve been taken to the castle immediately.”
“She was creating a plug, trying to cover the rift—”
“Why would a stranger do that?” Sondre interrupted.
“Because it stinks?” Prospero offered with a tight smile.
Walter looked between them, as if he were a suspicious parent. He wasn’t wrong to look askance at her, and they likely all knew it. “Do you have anything else to explain how you were the one to find her?”
Prospero sighed. “Look, she appeared here. I tried to talk to her. Then she was making a damnable serpent whose fangs dripped poison. What else would you have me say?”
“You should have summoned me,” Sondre said, not wrongly either.
“And leave a remedial witch alone at the rift?” Prospero bit out. “Sure, and while we’re at it, why don’t we just widen the rift, let the poison out, and allow widespread death?”
“Prospero.” Walter’s quelling look was enough to make her stay in her seat.
“Fine.” She took a calming breath. “And the witch who died? Eric? I couldn’t get to him and get her out of there.”
“How are we to be sure you didn’t kill him?” Sondre asked sotto voce.
“Sondre.” Walt glared at him. “Prospero is not a killer.”
“Are you sure?” Sondre crossed his arms.
Prospero smiled slowly. “Sinceyouare still alive, I suspect Walt has a point.”
Walter made a sound that was more growl than word and slapped his palm on the table. “Enough.”
For a moment, no one spoke. Their animosity was all Sondre’s fault as far as Prospero knew. He still blamed her for his life—as if dying would’ve been better.
