“So, the thing is,” I started, awkwardly as I took a deep breath and then wished I’d been drinking alcohol instead of coffee. My nails drummed against the table before I curled them into my palm to force them to stop. I could be awkward, or I could be annoying, but I absolutely refused to be both. “I didn’t… well, I didn’t actually marry Prince Reynard.”

  That went over about as well as I’d expected it to, which was as much as throwing a chair through a wedding cake. Bea’s laughter was a little strained, like she thought I was making a bad joke. When I didn’t join in, she sobered quickly, her face going tight. Her wings fluttered once, with a hard clatter like an anxious bee before going absolutely still. A puff of glitter blossomed out of them, momentarily making the air around her shine with the reflection of the overhead lights.

  “You didn’t marry the prince?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t understand.” Her blue eyes searched my face, like she was hunting for some kind of clue as to what I was talking about. “The prophecy said you were meant to marry Prince Reynard so you could… come into your full powers and unite both courts.”

  Of course, the prophecy.

  I’d heard enough about the stupid thing to last me ten lifetimes. If I ever got my hands on the Seer that delivered it in the first place, I’d be sure to clock them one for all the issues they’d dumped on me.

  “Well, that’s not entirely true, though that certainly seems to be the most popular interpretation.” I muttered the last part, not quite able to keep it to myself, and then cleared my throat.

  “What do you mean?” Bea asked, still frowning.

  “The prophecy only mentioned that I had to get married. It never actually specified to whom.”

  And now I sounded like a lawyer. Jonathon had delighted in saying garbage like that, splitting hairs, loopholes, any way to weasel out of something and he’d find it. Ugh, I was turning into everything I’d ever hated.

  Bea stared at me, her eyes wide with blossoming horror as her mouth opened and closed silently, like she’d forgotten how to make words. She’d gone so pale that I could actually see the little blue veins at her temples. It made me worried that she might actually pass out at my kitchen table.

  It wasn’t a promising reaction.

  “What did you do, Taliyah?” she asked on a whisper.

  I shifted slightly in my chair, but I refused to fidget. I wasn’t ashamed of what I’d done, and I wasn’t about to act like I was. “I… well, I got married.”

  “Oh, my.” She breathed in deeply. “And not to the prince?”

  “No, not to the prince.”

  She took in another deep breath. “Who did you get married to?”

  “Maverick,” I answered on a shrug.

  “Maverick… the warlock?”

  “Right. Well, Blood Warlock if we’re being exact.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “That way the prophecy was fulfilled, but I also was able to continue living my life on my terms,” I continued, the words sort of blubbering right off my tongue. “I can stay here, in the Hollow, and remain Taliyah instead of being forced to become Princess Olwen and losing my identity altogether.”

  All the color leached out of Bea’s face, leaving her looking like a not very realistic wax doll. Even her lips went a chalky white. “Oh, dear. Oh, my. This is… oh, this is bad. This is really, really bad.” Her shoulders shook, a fine trembling running through her whole body as her wings clamped tight to her back.

  “I don’t see how this is bad.”

  She worried her lower lip. “Oh, Taliyah, you don’t understand what you’ve done.”

  Alright, that wasn’t a promising reaction, either. But I respected Bea a lot, so I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Then please, explain it to me.”

  Bea shook her head hard enough that her little cap of blond curls whipped around her face. “I can’t.”

  “You can’t?”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s… well, it’s not my place. You’re going to need to hear it from Prince Reynard.”

  Frustration sparked in my chest, sending little embers of temper through my body. Prince Reynard was the last person I wanted to hear it (or anything else, for that matter) from. Furthermore, I was getting really sick of how much of my life Fox seemed to have taken over. Now I couldn’t even have information without his Highnesses permission. How much worse would it have gotten if we’d actually been married? I’d already had one horrible, controlling husband. No way in hell was I signing up for round two.

  “Fine,” I snapped. “If I have to check in with the bastard, he can come down to the precinct. I’m not putting my life on hold for him.”

  Bea was silent for a long moment. Her face had taken on a pasty, sickly tinge, and for a second, I thought she was going to be sick right there at my kitchen table. She was shaking so badly that her wings trembled, the thin, iridescent membranes sending little spangles of light skittering across the tiled floor in waves.

  Just as I was about to ask if she was alright, Bea swallowed hard enough that I could see the bob of her throat from across the table. She was visibly steeling herself, like I’d asked her to walk into a lion’s den wearing nothing but barbeque sauce.

  “Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll tell him.”

  And then, faster than I could react, she was bundling herself back up in her million and one outer layers and whizzing out my door. She never even said goodbye. Instead, the front door closed with an ominous thud.

  So much for ducking Fox indefinitely. I had a feeling I’d just made an accidental appointment with the guy.

  I scrubbed a hand over my face, feeling exhausted. At least we’d had a good morning. And I’d managed to get rid of all the frost and snow before my parents got back with the boys. I’d already had one horrible conversation; I wasn’t looking to start a collection.

  Chapter Seven

  I dragged myself out of bed early the next morning, and headed downtown to Wanda’s Witchery.

  When I’d first come to town, I’d been extremely skeptical of some of the more out there stores that lined the town’s main street. Some were just in good fun, like Sweeter Haunts, the candy store with a year-round Halloween theme. But Poppy’s Potions? And Wanda’s—a store that claimed to sell enchanted clothing? Those were fraud cases waiting to happen. At the time I’d figured I’d let it lie, until the first complaints came in, people who felt they’d been promised something that obviously couldn’t be delivered. Though, I’d also believed that anyone dumb enough to spend money on a ‘magic potion’, or clothing that was spelled to make you look better kind of deserved what they got.

  But then the weirdest thing happened. No one complained. From all appearances, anyone who bought something from those so called ‘magic stores’ seemed perfectly happy with their purchases. Then I’d thought, maybe it was something like a conspiracy among the townspeople. But even tourists seemed thrilled.

  I’d considered everything from a placebo effect, to hypnosis, to subliminal messages. But who’d actually believe in a potion that could make you more attractive to others? Or active wear that actually made you more active? It was absurd. The whole town was infuriating.

  Then the seal on my power and memories had broken, and I’d found out that the magic had always been real.

  I wished I could have been happier about it.

  I eyed the front window of Wanda’s Witchery, examining the glass as much as the gorgeous burgundy silk gown draped on one of the mannequins. Magic or not, Wanda clearly had a skill for making beautiful clothing. I pretty much only wore dresses to get married in, but even I was eyeing the careful fall of the skirt with appreciation.

  The window glass looked good, too. It had been completely shattered a little while back, when Maverick’s spell work and Wanda’s disastrous potion making had accidentally joined forces to explode the entire front end of the store and bring Sybil to life. I’d been there in the smoke and dust aftermath, and even looking for it now, I couldn’t see any sign of the disaster. Either they had one hell of a glass installation, or they’d actually used magic on the repairs.

  Maverick had been working at Wanda’s shop for some time. He excelled at doing delicate thread work for embroidering layers of spells into the fabric of the clothing, or so he told me. I was as bad with a needle and thread as I was with magic. Possibly worse. At least I didn’t stab my own fingers with summoned snow.

  Ever since Wanda had started having to pretend to be strictly nocturnal, Maverick had taken over as the daytime manager of Wanda’s Witchery. It hadn’t seemed like a natural fit, since Maverick seemed to pride himself on being abrasive to most people, not to mention being touchy at any sign of an insult, and that wasn’t a recipe for good customer service.

  But Maverick didn’t seem to mind it, and as it turned out, he was actually less abrasive to the customers than Wanda herself was. But then, I realized that I’d failed to factor in one crucial bit of information into my assumptions. Most of the clientele at Wanda’s shop were women. And, let’s face it, Maverick was tall, handsome, and charming when he chose to be. Not to mention that it seemed Maverick was also very good at using flirtation to get them to spend more when he was working. I did notice that Wanda had been putting him on the clock more and more.

  When I stepped through the shop’s door, he was busy ringing up one such customer.

  “It’s just a little enhancement, you understand,” he said with a smirk as he carefully folded the woman’s purchases. “It’s not something you need, of course, but when you’re dealing with a masterpiece, you don’t hang it in a plastic, dollar store frame, do you?”

  The customer, a woman just a few years younger than I was, blushed and giggled like a teenager before taking the handles of her bag and turning to go. I’d give her a little credit. She only glanced back at Maverick three times before stepping out the door. He smiled after her until she was out the door, then those pale gray eyes snapped to me.

  I stepped out of her way, surprised at how much watching the interaction bothered me.

  We weren’t really a couple, I reminded myself with a little internal shake. We might be married, but it was just in name, nothing else. Maverick had done me a huge favor and I wasn’t about to repay him for all that by acting weird and jealous.

  Maverick finished whatever it was he was doing at the cash register, and looked back up at me. The smile that spread across his face was real, not his fake little flirtatious smirk, and it made him almost unbearably handsome. My breath caught in my chest with a funny little hitch.

  He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the counter. “Is calling you my beautiful wife, even in jest, too much, Tally?”

  My heart gave a painful little throb, like pressing on the edge of a bruise, but I kept my face neutral. It was so much easier to hide what I was feeling when I was wrapped up in the glamour that made me look like I had before the seal on my powers broke. “You can joke. I’d kind of be worried if you didn’t.”

  I waffled in the doorway for a second before flipping the sign on the door to closed. This was already going to be an awkward enough conversation, I really didn’t want to be interrupted by giggling women wanting to buy athletic wear that would make them want to exercise, or to ask Maverick’s opinion on what kind of underwear he’d recommend to show off their ‘assets’.

  Maverick watched me flip the sign, then raised an eyebrow at me but didn’t comment.

  I took a few steps into the store, pausing to run my fingers along the skirts hung on a nearby rack. I was fidgeting, and I knew it. I just wasn’t sure how to bring up the favor I was about to ask, at least without humiliating myself in the process.

  The longer I hesitated, the more concerned Maverick looked. Any moment, and he was going to ask me what was wrong. It was time to rip the band-aid off before things got even more ridiculous.

  I took a deep breath. “So, I did something really stupid, and I need your help.” I took another deep breath and then frowned at him. “And I’m already super embarrassed about it so… would you do me a favor and not rub my nose in it?”

  Maverick’s smile faded, leaving him serious and focused. “I’m listening.”

  The nervous energy was becoming unbearable, so I gave into it enough to pace. Six steps towards a rack of cocktail dresses, thirteen steps back towards a display of business suits that promised more confidence than all the shoulder pads of the eighties could provide.

  “Jonathon called me yesterday.”

  “Jonathon—your ex-husband?”

  “Right. My ex-husband,” I clarified.

  Maverick’s face had fallen into the carefully neutral lines he used like a mask when he didn’t want anyone to know what he was thinking. Apparently, he wore such a mask a lot back when he’d been with his original coven. Before they kicked him out for being both powerful and male. His fingers twitched, and he stood up straight so he could slide both hands out of sight behind the counter.

  “Right.”

  “Right.” Another deep breath. “So… as you know, he’s been dragging me through one petty lawsuit after another.”

  “I recall.”

  “Well, he called up yesterday to shove my nose in his latest sexual conquest…”

  “Are you asking me to kill him?”

  I felt my mouth drop open. “What?”

  “Because I don’t really do hits—that’s not to say I wouldn’t, but—”

  “Maverick, I’m not asking you to kill him! Jesus!”

  “Oh, then what are you asking?”

  “I’m not asking you anything,” I answered on a sigh as I paced back across the room. “I’m trying to tell you something.”

  “Then just spit the words out.” Then he walked over to me and stopped me from pacing. “And for the love of all that’s dark and dreary, stop that. You’re making me nervous, just watching you.”

  He’d reached out to take both of my hands and didn’t drop them. And for some reason, I was grateful for that.

  “What’s up?” he asked in a softer tone, a smile pulling at the ends of his plump lips.

  I swallowed hard. “I kind of… sort of… well, I kind of threw our marriage in Jonathon’s face.” Maverick blinked, his lips parting, but I barreled ahead before I lost my nerve entirely. “He just kept going on about how I still have feelings for him and then he said I was lying about getting married again and I just… well, I just lost my temper.” Just thinking about Jonathon had me on the brink of losing my temper now, and Wanda would hex me if I filled her store with snow. She’d only just managed to replace the stock destroyed in the whole Sybil situation. “He’s really just pissed off that I served him the divorce papers instead of the other way around.”

  I took a deep breath and held it until my lungs ached before looking up to face Maverick again. Previously, I’d been staring at his adam’s apple. “It’s stupid, and it’s petty, and it’s not fair at all, but I really, really need you to pretend, just when Jonathon gets here—well, if he even comes here, that this relationship is more serious than it actually is.”

  Maverick stared at me for a long moment, and then, to my surprise, he smirked. “So,” he drawled. “Just how obnoxious do you want the PDA’s to be?”

  I stared at him, incredulous. I’d expected a little bit of push back, at least. I would have kicked up more of a fuss if I were in his position, but he was just fine with it? “How are you so blasé about this?”

  The smirk fell away, leaving the serious, determined Maverick that I wasn’t used to seeing outside of work. “The guy is a narcissistic asshole who dragged one of my friends through the mud because she made him feel like less of a man.” Then he chuckled. “Tally, making out with you in front of your ex is not a hardship, especially if it will sell the idea that you’re a lot better off without him. And you are,” he added, fiercely. “You’re way better off in Haven Hollow than you were in Portland. Even if it was terrible circumstances that brought you here.”

  My throat closed around a sudden lump, and I had to blink my eyes repeatedly to try and drive back the sudden hot threat of tears. His reaction had caught me off guard. I wasn’t really an emotional person, unless I was angry. And I’d been angry this whole time, really. When your entire life gets upended, it leaves you in a bit of a permanently furious state. I’d felt like I was fighting an entire battle on my own for so long, that suddenly having someone at my back had knocked me off kilter.

  It meant that my voice came out a little strangled when I said, “Thank you.”

  Maverick responded by pulling me into a hug. He bent his head and pressed a kiss to my hair, and for some bizarre reason, it felt even more intimate than kissing his lips on our wedding night had. That had been pure, unadulterated lust. This was… well, this was sweeter. I probably should have pulled away, straightened up and stood on my own again. But it felt so good, having his arms wrapped around me, the strength in his chest helping to prop me up, the warmth of his breath on the top of my head. So, I let myself indulge, just for a little bit and I wrapped my arms around him as I settled my head against his chest.

  He spoke quietly, his lips still just an inch above the top of my head. “Jonathon is going to regret trying to hurt you, Taliyah.”

  “Don’t kill him,” I said, still slightly worried about the subject. Maverick’s morality could be a little dubious at times. He was very goal motivated, and he had freaky Blood Warlock powers at his disposal now.

  Maverick laughed and I could hear the sound echoing in his lungs which made me hug him even tighter as I felt the warmth of his breath brush my hair.

  “No promises.”

  Chapter Eight

  Bea called me later that night, about an hour after the boys had gone to bed.

  I had to excuse myself to take the call in another room. I didn’t want to have to lie to my parents in case they heard something they shouldn’t have.