Tabitha nodded, doing so before she floated a bowl of roasted roots across the table with a flick of her wrist. “Eat. You look like you’ve worked through three meals.”
He frowned at her, those adorable little lines on his forehead creasing as he admitted, “I... did.”
“Good. Then you’re more than welcome,” she told him, shooing him into a seat right next to mine. She usually sat there, but she pulled out a chair fromnowherethen pushed it in next to him.
I was mortified. Absolutely, cosmically mortified. “This wasn’t my idea,” I hissed at him as I moved closer.
He glanced at me, his lips twitching. “I didn’t think it was.”
Zara gestured grandly. “Sit. Eat. Ignore the enchanted ladle. It’s feeling flirty tonight,” she told him.
“Thewhat?” he asked, tilting his head curiously.
“Don’t ask,” I muttered, even as it floated between us.
And then, dinner was… chaos.
Every time I tried to eat something, someone asked a question. Zara started it off with, “So, Sav, how do you feel about commitment?”
Then Floria continued the momentum with the ever-so-subtle, “Are you more of a morning cuddler or night owl?”
Tasia was up next with, “Do you like younglings? Hypothetically speaking, of course. Or small witches?”
Gabbi, whose mouth was full of bread decided to join in. “Do you like Aunty Hanna?”
I nearly inhaled my stew. “Gabbi!” I admonished.
Savla’s jaw was almost to the floor. He set down his spoon and his voice was even as he said, “She’s tolerable.”
“Tolerable?!” I sputtered.
He glanced over at me in disbelief. “Well, you’re loud, messy, and you break into my workshop. But you bake well.”
Floria gasped. “I think he’s confessing his undying love.”
“It’s not,” he said quickly, his frown back.
Zara smirked. “Denial. Classic fated-mate symptom.”
He scowledhard. “Fate’s overrated and doesn’t have a place in this conversation.”
I muttered, “So’s your attitude,” feeling heat flush into my face. Fate wasnotoverrated.
“I’m still here, aren’t I?” he countered, turning that magnificent scowl my way.
That shut me up for a few seconds because... yes. He was. Which was odd. Savla didn’t stay places he didn’t want to be. Did that mean he was staying because of... me? But that couldn’t be right. He was probably feeling obligated to be there because he’d been invited by his best friend. That waswaymore likely.
Tasia giggled, whispering something to Zara, and suddenly the enchanted ladle stirred the stewby itself, sending up a puff of glittering pink steam. It smelled like rosewater and honey—love spell residue.
Savla’s nose twitched. “What the hell is that?”
“Atmosphere,” Zara said serenely.
“It smells poisoned,” he muttered.
When the laughter finally died down and the plates were cleared, he reached for the box he’d brought.
“This was supposed to be a repair job,” he said, ignoring Zara’s triumphant grin. He handed it to me. “But the one that Zara gave to me was unfixable. It’s...” he trailed off for a moment, scratching the back of his neck as he looked away. “A new herb sorter. Safer than the one you melted.”
