Lottie finally finds her words and says, “Not to you.”
August grips Lottie’s elbow and pulls her toward the door. “Will you excuse us for one moment?”
Before Marigold can respond, Lottie and August are out the door. August does not close it all the way, so she is mostly privy to their conversation, minus a few words that get lost in the distance between them. She can scarcely see Lottie’s face through the crack of the door.
“Lots,” August whispers.
“What?” she snaps in the harshest whisper she can muster.
“Why are you being so rude?” he asks.
“I am not,” Lottie retorts. She says something else, but it’s too quiet.Something somethingMarigold,something somethingmythcraft,something somethingbeautiful.
“Beautiful?” Marigold whispers to herself as she comes closer to the door midway through August’s response.
“… so maybe this is the time tonotimmediately push a nice person away.”
Lottie grunts. “What if I don’t think she’s nice?”
“You’re lying. You’re doing your lying face.”
“I do not have a lying face,” she replies.
“You chew on your lip and scrunch up your eyebrows.”
Lottie releases her lip from her teeth and relaxes her brows. “Leave me alone, August. I’ll support you in whatever you want to do, but I’m not going to believe in it.”
Oh yes, you will, Marigold thinks as she steps away from the door just in time for August to open it and come back inside.
“Apologies again, Marigold. You were saying?”
Her smirk is wicked. “I have a proposition for you two.”
“Go on,” August says.
“I will get to work on your soulmate spell. It will take some time to complete because it requires moon water, and I am unfortunately all out, but lucky for you, the full moon is only one week away.”
“That sounds simple enough. Shall we return then to retrieve the completed spell?” he says brightly while Lottie holds her suspicious gaze.
“Well, enter the rest of my proposition; I’ll give you your spell, if,” she says, stepping toward Lottie, “you give me a chance to convince you that my magic is real.”
Lottie immediately laughs. “That won’t be possible, Witch.”
The title is meant to be an insult, but her heart still warms at the sound. She loves being called a witch. It’s by far her most interesting attribute. She stifles that feeling as best she can, determined to maintain her upper hand in the conversation.
“I want you two to stay with me. I want to show you all the possible proof you could witness. And then,” she says as she comes even closer, intensity building with every step, “I want to hear you say it.”
“Say what?” Lottie says, her voice warm against Marigold’s cheek.
“You will admit that you believe in magic, and I’ll give the spell to August.”
August does not say a word during this entire exchange. It’s as if he’s never seen anyone challenge Lottie before. Others must find her exceptionally intimidating, maybe even terrifying. But Marigold senses something underneath that cold exterior, and she wants to see it. She wants to know the real Lottie, and find the softness behind her sharp tongue. She is a Honey Witch, after all, and like her grandmother used to say, Honey Witches find beauty where others may not.
Lottie’s gaze leaves August and centers on her. She looks her up and down, though she does not seem to relax her demeanor at all. Marigold stands tall and still.
Lottie stops chewing on her lip and says, “This isn’t fair.”
She almost agrees; normally, she would never withhold a spell from a lonely heart. It is not in her nature to bargain with the fate of others. But something about this woman’s absolute rejection of all things magic has sparked her defiance. She feels insulted, embarrassed, and entirely committed to proving herself. Spite is a uniquely powerful motivator.
