Chapter One
“One more try, darn it,” I muttered under my breath as Twobble chuckled behind me in the cottage’s kitchen.
I had bowls, jars, and baggies of recently dried herbs from the cottage’s garden. It was the last harvest of the fall. Frost sparkled in the morning sunlight where fresh dew once settled. All the comforting signs that fall had arrived wafted from the forest, but very few things felt cozy since we’d encountered the Priestess in the woods.
Just the thought made my scar tingle and my birthmark burn.
“You’ve got this, Maeve,” Twobble said, waddling up behind me. “If you can battle shadows and diminish women who’re set on world domination, you can figure out an easy pastry spell.”
“Ha, that’s where you’re wrong, my little friend.” I chuckled and clutched my wand as I pinched a sprinkle of lavender and tossed it on the mat before reading the spell’s introduction.
“Lavender spice so nice in a pastry spelled by me. Perfect for friends, so now we must share the recipe.” I shook out my hand with the wand and readied myself. “Combinan, stiro, foldensia, rise, bake, and brown. Start the process when I give alittle sound.” I dabbed my wand on each ingredient and smiled. “Boop.”
If I didn’t know better, I felt Twobble roll his eyes behind me.
“Boop? That’s your sound?”
I ignored him and held my breath, watching the lavender settle into the dough as if it belonged there. No sparks. No puff of smoke. No suspicious bubbling.
That alone felt like a small miracle.
“Okay,” I said slowly, lowering my wand just a fraction. “That’s new.”
“You mean the fact that it doesn’t look like it’s about to explode?” Twobble leaned in beside me, peering at the mat with exaggerated seriousness, his ears twitching.
I gave a quick nod. “Precisely that.”
“It’s not glowing,” he added, giving me a sideways glance.
I laughed, staring at the dough.
“It usually glows,” he insisted. “Whenever you try a baking spell, the result is usually explosions, melting, or screaming from the dough.”
“The dough screamed one time,” I said. “And it wasn’t a scream, it was the dough poofing the air out. It was more of a holler.”
“It screamed twice.” His brows lifted in defiance as I pressed my lips together, not bothering to respond.
I lifted my wand again and tapped the edge of the dough.
“Rise gently,” I whispered, trying to keep my voice calm like Stella when she poured tea and pretended everything in the world wasn’t one spilled potion away from chaos.
The dough gave a small, polite puff, and I blinked.
And then Twobble blinked.
To my amazement, it… stayed a puff.
There was no explosion or collapse, just… a puff.
“Oh,” I said, very quietly.
Twobble leaned closer.
“Oh,” he echoed, just as softly.
I straightened a little, my heart doing that hopeful flutter I’d been trying not to let loose too often lately.
“Okay. Okay, we’re doing this. We’re actually doing this.” I grinned at Twobble. “So, maybe I’m not a complete kitchen-witch failure.”
