She takes her hand and stands. “Let’s discuss over breakfast. I’ve been cooking for hours to try to take my mind off of things.” She begins assembling plates piled high with sweet and savory treats, and the three of them take their respective seats at the table.
“Don’t leave us waiting any longer,” August says. “What’s on your mind?”
“My sister is getting married in Bardshire, and I am to be her maid of honor.”
Lottie takes a massive bite of her triple stack of pancakes and nods. “Sounds lovely,” she says, unenthused.
August forces himself to swallow before he’s finished chewing. “Don’t be rude.”
Lottie gives him an annoyed glance and continues eating.
“The wedding is on the first day of autumn,” Marigold continues, “so in order to be there in time, I must leave tonight.”
August and Lottie both put down their utensils and glance at each other before returning their gaze to her.
“Do you have to go?” Lottie asks.
“To my sister’s wedding? Yes. I have to go.” Her tone is harsher than she intended.
“You seem upset about it, like it’s the last thing you want to do,” Lottie says.
Marigold sinks farther back into her chair. “It is.”
“Why?” Lottie asks.
“Because I do not want to leave you…” Marigold says before she remembers herself and fights for her composure. “Or August. I don’t want our visit to be over.”
The two stare at each other, unsure of what to say next. It is August, as always, who interrupts the silence. “But what of the spell?”
“You don’t need me anymore for it to work. You’ll be able to return home, and you,” she says as she places her hand on Lottie’s shoulder, “will finally find your soulmate, too. God help them.”
The three of them share a soft laugh, but it is swiftly muted by the heartbreak of impending separation.
“So this is it, then? This is our last day together,” Lottie says.
Marigold sighs and pushes back the tears already welling in her eyes. “I suppose so.”
“Wait,” August says, and Lottie and Marigold turn to meet his gaze. “I think I’m getting that feeling.”
Lottie sighs. “You don’t have to announce it, August. Just go to the privy.”
August shoves her playfully and says, “You know what I’m talking about. The spell. I’m getting that pull telling me to go somewhere.”
“And where is that?” Lottie asks.
August flashes a devious grin. “Bardshire.”
Marigold’s heart quickens. “August, don’t tease me right now. Do you truly feel it?”
“I really, truly do. It’s almost impossible to describe. It’s almost like—”
“Almost like you don’t really feel anything?” Lottie mumbles with her mouth full.
“No, I’m serious,” he says as he places a hand over his heart. “It feels almost frightening.”
“Like an itch?” Marigold asks.
“More like a bite, maybe,” he says as he scratches the spot where the necklace sits.
