My stomach’s been left on the ground, and even though this should be amazing, it feels a bit lackluster. But they’ve gone to so much trouble to make me happy that I don’t want them to think that this is anything but awesome.
“It is,” I forcefully shout. Maybe a little too forcefully, so I rein it back in. “I feel like a real witch.”
Chelsea laughs. “It’s about time!”
We fly for maybe half an hour, the only bad part being when I spy the castle bathed in moonlight. My throat tightens, and I can’t help but wonder what Feylin’s up to, what he’s done today. How’s Ryals? Does he miss me? I miss him and our little family.
Blair slides up to me. “Let’s go this way,” she instructs, pointing in the other direction, trying to keep me from wallowing in my own pool of misery.
“Sure,” I reply numbly.
A few minutes later my magic begins to fade.
“Time to turn back,” Blair calls.
Hers must be dying, too.
We almost make it home, landing a few streets from our house, in a park flanked on one side by houses. It only takes a few minutes for my arm to start aching from carrying the skillet. Turns out they’re easier to sit on than they are to carry. Go figure.
“That should’ve been longer,” I say. “Didn’t we use to fly longer before?”
Blair smirks.
Ohright.“So it’s pretty bad, isn’t it?”
Chelsea pushes up a smile. “It could be worse.”
“Yeah, if you call having your toenails ripped out worse,” Blair snipes.
“And no balls,” I murmur. “Ovie said that she would start them?—”
“We know,” Chelsea bites out. “But Charlie kept her busy. If you remember, he showed up just before your first ceremony, which was the same day that she promised to restart them. But now he’s gone, though.”
“And she’s in bed, crying. Yay, us,” Blair says coldly.
I twist my hair around my finger. I don’t want a witch ball. I don’t want to marry. I have no intention of giving my heart to anyone ever again. But that doesn’t mean I can’t get my sisters married off.
“Look, if we’re going to save this family’s magic, Ovie’s gonna have to get out of bed,” I say.
My sisters shoot me shocked looks. “Do you have a fever?” Blair asks. “You’re the one who ran off during the first ball.”
“I know. But this isn’t about me. It’s about the Thornroses, and Blair, out there somewhere is a super hot wizard or werewolf who wants to marry you, and we need to find him.”
Chelsea nudges me with her arm. “What exactly are you saying?”
“That we need to get Ovie out of her bed and back to planning witch balls.”
42
Ovie needed a distraction, that’s what she told us the next day, so she was happy to return to planning the balls.
“We’ll focus on Blair, how’s that sound?” she said.
“Sounds perfect,” I told her.
So the next few days are spent with me perfecting my magical sending-someone-into-a-book abilities while Ovie plans the ball.
The day of the big event, I keep myself busy thinking about everythingotherthan witch balls, or at least doing my best to. But all good things must come to an end, and the hours leading to the event eventually creep up.
