The tension between us tightens like a wire drawn to its breaking point. I didn’t directly accuse her of being responsible for my magical binding, but the way she just reacted speaks volumes about her knowledge of the situation. Either she knows who did this to me, or. . .
The atmosphere around us begins to change, reality warping and twisting.
It starts small, almost imperceptible, but I can see it clearly this time, the way the trees beyond her shoulder blur and shimmer as though heat is rising from the asphalt in waves of impossible color. For the briefest moment, the magical camouflage that hides Ruby Springs from the outside world falters completely, and I catch a glimpse of what lies beyond the illusion. The stretch of highway outside the wards comes into sharp focus, the mundane world that is not meant to be visible from within the town’s protected boundaries, complete with the distant glow of a gas station and the occasional headlight of passing cars.
Then the vision snaps back into place like a rubber band released, everything returning to the carefully maintained illusion of small-town normality as though the disruption never happened. Everything looks perfectly normal again, except nothing about that momentary glimpse was normal at all.
The sudden shift in reality makes me stumble backward, disoriented by the abrupt transition, but Ezra’s hand finds my elbow, holding me upright and secure while the world settles back into its proper configuration around us.
Lenora sees the fluctuation too, her breath catching audibly at the same moment mine does, her carefully composed expression cracking to reveal something that looks very much like panic.
“Magical instability,”Sir says quietly into my mind,“The wards are responding to her lack of control, her hold is slipping.”
Lenora straightens with visible effort, smoothing her expression back into professional neutrality as though the reality-bending moment of ward failure never occurred at all.
“I have said what I came here to say,” she states, her voice once again calm but carrying an edge that wasn’t there before. “You would do well to consider my words very carefully, niece.”
“Oh, I absolutely will,” I answer, letting my own annoyance show through the polite facade.
She hesitates, as if she might add something else, another warning, another threat, another attempt to convince me to abandon my birthright. Instead, she turns and walks back toward her sedan as quickly as those expensive high heels can carry her across the uneven pavement.
At the driver’s side door, she pauses and looks back at me one final time. “I sincerely hope you make the right choice, Keisha.”
“I already have,” I reply with a friendly wave, giving her my best ‘bitch, get off my property’ smile and letting her see exactly how unimpressed I am by her attempts at intimidation.
She doesn’t respond to my gesture or return the wave. Instead, she climbs into her car with sharp, angry movements and slams the door hard enough that the sound echoes through the quiet neighborhood.
The engine starts with an aggressive roar, headlights flare bright enough to make me squint, and the car pulls away from the curb with a screech of tires that speaks to barely controlled fury. Within seconds, she’s disappeared down the tree-lined street, leaving nothing behind but the lingering scent of expensive perfume and barely contained magical tension.
For several long seconds, none of us move, all of us processing what just transpired and what it might mean for the immediate future.
Ezra speaks first, his voice carrying the careful precision I’m learning to associate with his analytical approach to magical problems. “You saw that ward fluctuation.”
“Yes,” Lucien says quietly, his Fae senses having undoubtedly picked up details the rest of us missed. “The barriers responded directly to her presence and emotional state. That level of instability suggests the magical foundations of this place are more compromised than we initially assumed.”
Maceo steps closer behind me, not touching but near enough. His reassuring presence at my back is solid, warm and protective in a way that makes me feel less alone in facing whatever’s coming next.
I keep my eyes trained on the spot where the shimmer had revealed the world beyond Ruby Springs’ boundaries, where reality had briefly torn open to show me the truth of our isolation.
“She told me to consider my choice very carefully,” I murmur, replaying the conversation and searching for clues I might have missed the first time.
“And?” Lucien prompts gently, his patience evident in the way he waits for me to work through my own thoughts rather than rushing to provide answers.
I continue staring at the invisible boundary she couldn’t cross, her tense body language, her careful words, and most importantly, her visceral reaction to my mention of something being stolen from me. Her behavior throughout the entire encounter was suspicious as hell, too controlled, too prepared, too defensive about questions she should have had no reason to anticipate.
“I am considering it,” I say slowly, pieces of a terrible puzzle beginning to click into place in my mind. “Very carefully indeed.”
If what I witnessed tonight is any indication of the guilt my dear aunt is carrying around, I have a growing suspicion that she’s not just aware of who bound my magic, but she’s the one who did it. The thought makes my stomach clench with a mixture of rage and betrayal, but I don’t voice my suspicions aloud. Not yet. For now, I have one overriding goal that’s become crystal clear in the wake of tonight’s confrontation: I need to find a way to break whatever magical chains she’s wrapped around my power, because I have a growing certaintythat this town needs me to reclaim what was taken. More than that, I need to do it for myself, to become the woman I was always meant to be before fear and jealousy decided to reshape my destiny without my consent.
Chapter
Eight
MEDITATION IS FOR SUCKERS
Two weeks in Ruby Springs feels like two days and two decades at the same time.
The days stack up in neat little rows like the books Sir keeps piling on every available surface in Thorne Curiosities. I blink and it’s morning again, and I’m unlocking a shop that technically still isn’t open, stepping into the familiar hush of polished floors and hanging herbs, trying not to let my nerves chew a hole through my stomach before I even make it to the back room. The morning light filters through the front windows differently now, softer somehow, as if the glass itself has learned to be gentle with me. The scent of dried sage and something floral I can’t quite identify wraps around me like an embrace.
