Marigold takes a long, deep breath, preparing herself for whatever version of Lottie she is about to greet. Lottie was vicious during their last encounter, but August’s presence may mitigate that this time. It truly makes no sense—she has been nothing but kind and pleasant to Lottie since they met. She even thought Lottie was beautiful until she revealed her true personality after August departed.
When they reach the isle and begin walking up the stone path, Marigold is overwhelmed with the desire to primp herself in the mirror. She finger combs her hair and smooths out any rogue strands that have escaped her yellow ribbon. She taps homemade rouge across her lips and cheeks and adjusts her yellow dress to flatter her body. And, in accordance with her grandmother’s expert advice, she taps rose essence behind her ears and knees and between her breasts for good measure. Upon feeling satisfied with her appearance, she rolls her eyes at herself. Why should she feel obligated to impress a woman who will no doubt find her revolting? A rhythmic knock sounds through the cottage, and she runs to open the door.
“Hello, Marigold,” August says.
She had a greeting ready in her mind, but all her words disappear as Lottie comes into view. It’s intimidating to be so close to her, as if one wrong move could ignite the air.
“May we come in?” August asks after a time, and she startles out of her trance.
“Of course, you may! My apologies, yes, please come in.” She sways out of the doorframe. August walks in, taking Lottie’s hand and leading her inside. The two of them stand awkwardly in the kitchen as he stares at her with a devious smirk.
“How might I be of service?” she asks, avoiding eye contact with Lottie to focus on what work needs to be done.
“Well, as you can see,” he says, adjusting his collar, “your spell to heal a broken heart has worked tremendously for me. I’ve never been better!”
She touches her hand over her heart. “Wonderful!”
“It is!” His tone drops when he gestures to Lottie. “But this one does not believe it.”
“It’smythcraft,” Lottie says, scoffing.
“What’smythcraft?” Marigold asks, mimicking Lottie’s tone.
Lottie rolls her eyes and does not respond.
“It’s Lottie’s made-up word to describe anything she doesn’t believe in,” he explains on. “If you haven’t already noticed, she isn’t exactly a believer.”
“I simply don’t like charlatans,” Lottie corrects as she crosses her arms tightly over her chest.
Marigold clenches her jaw. Since her ritual, this is the first time she has ever encountered someone who did not believe in her magic, and it is the strangest thing. As a child, when her siblings didn’t believe her about the things she saw, she would sulk for days with all her choice words tucked tightly behind her pout. But now she feels different and defiant. This woman is a customer who has come to the isle after witnessing her best friend’s successful spell. What more proof could she need? And why must she be so decidedly rude? Marigold is a decent judgeof character, and she hoped that Lottie would be secretly kind underneath her hard exterior, especially now with Edmund out of the picture.
It’s starting to feel like she was wrong this time.
August rubs his temples. “Can you be silent instead of snarky for one small minute, please?”
“If I’m so horrible, why did you drag me here with you?” Lottie says.
“Because you’re my best friend, even if you are notoriously sour,” August says. “Now, I have argued with Lottie for far too long about this, so I brought her here to see it for herself.” He takes another long look around the cottage, admiring the ingredients that line the walls. “What other spells can you cast, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I don’t mind at all,” she says. Despite Lottie’s rudeness, she is beyond thrilled to have more people to talk to, someone else’s voice warm in her ear. “All my spells must have good and clear intentions. With those parameters in mind, I can essentially cast anything. Fertility, as you know because of your own mother, beautifying elixirs, a spell to find one’s soulmate…”
“Soulmate?” August chimes. “Well, that sounds nice.”
“It’s one of the more difficult spells, but definitely worth it for those who want to find true love. It’s actually the spell that brought my parents together.”
August laughs and scrunches his brows. “Who wouldn’t want to find true love?”
She shrugs. “Some people are meant for different paths, I suppose.”
“Everyone is meant to find love,” he says.
She sighs softly—she’s not in the mood to argue or disclose her curse, especially in front of the skeptical woman who would likely insult her about it. “Well, would you like that spell?”
“Yes, please!” August says, and Lottie rolls her eyes.
Marigold cannot stand it. She folds her arms over her chest and bores her gaze into Lottie. “Do you have something moreyou wish to say, Lottie?” She enjoys the feeling of Lottie’s name in her mouth more than she expected, but that does nothing to mute her accusative tone.
August snorts as Lottie is visibly taken aback. The woman does not seem like she is typically called out for her rude behavior.
