Rowyn rolls her eyes, trying to hide her hurt. “We all know it was out of their control,” she reminds Esme. “He’s a year and a half older thanme, and Ember is two years older than him. On his eighteenth birthday, somethingchanged.As soon as he saw her, he knew. She knew, I knew. Hell, the whole town knew.”
“Is that why you don’t get along?” I ask. “When it started between you two?”
She shakes her head and slides her forearms on the counter, looking at us. “We’ve never been close. We’re so different, so there wasn’t ever an understanding between us. Then when my magic started to manifest, things got competitive. Not that our parents encouraged anything of that nature. It just happened.”
She tilts her head, a sad expression gracing her soft features.
“Ember’s magic is stronger than mine is,” Rowyn says and I fight an eyeroll.I’m still not convinced.“But mine comes more naturally than hers. Things only got worse the older we got.”
“Then she mated your ex-boyfriend,” Esme unhelpfully adds. I close my eyes and shake my head at her.
“Technically, he mated her,” Rowyn says.
There’s hurt and confusion in her tone. Under all of that, there’s anger.Righteouslyso. I can see the small fires in her eyes while we talk about it.
Knowing Rowyn, she doesn’t let herself feel it—or at least she doesn’t linger on it. She doesn’t even sound bitter about it. Not for the first time, I realize Rowyn is a much better person than I will ever be.
“We can still hex him.”
The words come from the Love Witch, making me whip my head in her direction.
“Oh, can we?” I snap at her.
Some hexes, like a day of bad luck or chickenpox, can be performed by any type of witch. A variety of reversal elixirs are kept with the school nurses because of how easy they are for young, untrained witches to accidentally perform.
However, something tells me those are not the hexes Esme has in mind. Probably something stronger, harder to get rid of.
Like recurring night terrors and physical pain.
Pointing my finger at her, I add, “Don’t think I have forgotten your little comment about astral projection and seances.”
She smiles and shrugs. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
“Whatis that?” Clementine’s voice carries through the room as she, Clover, and Sybil walk into the kitchen together. She points at the empty glasses and stands next to the counter.
“Nothing for you,” Rowyn says and fills two more glasses for Sybil and Clover. “But one of each for you two—it’s a new morning ritual.”
“Why can’t I participate?” Clementine whines in that way only a teenage girl can pull off.
“Because,” Clover says before quickly shooting her serving back, “you better not be having sex for a long,longtime.”
Clementine grimaces and reaches for the tea kettle instead. “Yeah, I’ll pass on that.”
Sybil doesn’t grab the glass, crossing her arms and looking around. I notice she avoids my eye contact before asking no one in particular, “Do I want to know what caused this new morning routine?”
I look away, and catch Clover’s arched eyebrow as I turn toward the window.
Laughing, Esme sounds thrilled to answer, “No, you don’t.”
“Ew,” Sybil groans and drags a hand down her face. Looking at me, she shrugs. “I want him to be happy—you too.”
I offer her a forced smile, hoping it’s more convincing than it feels.
“What about the theor—”
Before Clementine can finish the question, Rowyn cuts in and pushes the glass toward Sybil. “Your turn.”
She pushes it a few inches away. “I don’t need that.”
