CHAPTER ONE
ELIZABETH
BEFORE
Elizabeth Miranda Moonwhisper Thornwick was finally about to enjoy a nice bowl of stew without interruptions, explosions, or unexpected omens when the messenger sprite arrived.
She sat at the oak table dominating the center of her kitchen, her emerald gown glistening in the hearth’s golden light. Bundles of herbs hung from the rafters, and the scents of lavender, rosemary, and moonbell filled the air with floral-earthy perfume and the very distracting scent of her bubbling stew. Her belly rumbled.
Silver trinkets and polished copper pots gleamed from multiple shelves, while tall windows showed thesprawling manor gardens outside the estate where she’d been born and she assumed she’d one day die. Not too soon, however. She had so much she still wanted to do.
Her tabby cat companion, Grimble rouses from where he sat on a windowsill, his tail twitching.Something is—His thought sent to her was interrupted.
A tiny sprite zipped through her open window in a blur of light, leaving a trail of sparks that spelled out symbols in the air before fading. Elizabeth caught the sprite gently, and it flickered before settling on her lifted palm with a heavy sigh.
“A message from the witchy council,” the sprite said in a voice like tinkling bells. “The magical barrier is weakening in the outer territories. Crops in the vicinity are failing, and healing spells are sputtering. The old wards are breaking down and if not repaired soon, we risk not only exposure to the nonmagical world but the bleed of the very power sustaining our world.”
“Oh dear. That’s terrible news. Hold on, my stew’s boiling over. Can’t save the world if my meal burns.”
The sprite blinked, clearly debating whether to continue the apocalyptic report or give her time to rescue her dinner.
A flick of her hand cut the flames beneath the pot. It would be cool enough to serve soon.
So, magic was failing, and the boundary barriers were weakening?
She’d suspected as much. Her self-stirring spoon had been sluggish for weeks, and last night her broom refused to sweep until she bribed it with a splash of potion polish. Honestly, the household magic was becoming as temperamental as a council meeting on a full moon.
“They estimate we only have a year before the wards collapse,” the sprite squeaked. “The council hopes you have a solution.”
“Me?” she sputtered. But then she started thinking. “What about romantic bonds? There’s nothing more uplifting than love matches.”
“They didn’t say they were hoping for a romantic?—”
“Nonsense. Romance makes everything better. Do they have any suggestions of their own?”
“No.”
“Then romance it’ll have to be. Thank you, little one.”
The sprite darted back into the night.
Elizabeth remained still for a moment, her stew forgotten, as the weight of the message settled over her.
Magic was crumbling, the wards were collapsing, and honestly, the state of her granddaughters’ love lives was even worse.
What to do?
If the wards failed, their world would be as protected as a pixie at a vampire banquet. The magical creatures who’d thrived here for ages would see their powers fade into nothing more than folktales.
Healing magics would fall first, followed by the everyday enchantments that made life such a joy for her people. Eventually, the barrier between their worlds would dissolve completely, leaving everyone creatures of magic with no magic left to protect them.
Elizabeth twitched at the thought. Their entire civilization could collapse. Everything they were and everything they’d built over centuries might fade away like morning mist under a harsh sun.
That would never do.
“Could matches between witches and our monster communities restore the balance?” she asked softly, frowning at her clasped hands lying on the wooden table.
Grimble’s silver fur bristled. The enormous cat’s eyes, as green as spring leaves, fixed on her. His tail swished back and forth.You’re contemplating meddling,he said in her mind, the only way companions could communicate.
