Lyra left the building before she could say something that would probably get her arrested for threatening a public official.But as she made her way slowly back to the inn, her mind was already spinning with plans.
If the council wanted to treat her like she couldn't be trusted with her own magic, fine. She'd show them exactly how much control she actually had. And if a certain grumpy wolf shifter thought he could intimidate her into compliance, he was about to learn just how stubborn a chaos witch could be.
By the time she reached the inn, Lyra had decided her first order of business would be setting up proper wards around the property. Not because the council had told her to be careful, but because she wanted to make sure certain unwanted visitors knew they weren't welcome without an invitation.
Especially unwanted visitors with golden eyes and an attitude problem.
"Let's see how you like being locked out, Wolfman," she muttered, pulling her supplies from the trunk of her car. "Time to find out just how effective chaos magic can be when it's properly motivated."
6
CADE
Lyra discovered the forced proximity clause in her magical inheritance exactly eighteen hours after the council meeting, when she tried to take a shower alone and nearly electrocuted herself.
She'd spent the previous evening methodically warding the inn's perimeter with the kind of focused determination that usually preceded either breakthrough or breakdown. Salt circles at every entrance, protective herbs tucked into window frames, and sigils carved into strategic doorframes with a knife she'd found in Vera's spell supplies. The wards weren't just meant to keep out unwanted supernatural visitors—they were a statement of independence, a magical middle finger to anyone who thought they could tell her what to do with her own property.
The protective enchantments had felt solid and stable as she'd worked, her chaos magic surprisingly cooperative as it wove through the familiar patterns. She'd gone to bed feeling smugly satisfied, convinced she'd just solved her wolf shifter problem with good old-fashioned magical engineering.
She should have known it wouldn't be that simple.
The first sign of trouble came when she stepped into the inn's clawfoot bathtub and every piece of electrical equipment in the room started sparking. The lights flickered wildly, the hair dryer spontaneously turned on, and her phone started playing music at random intervals. By the time she'd grabbed a towel and fled the bathroom, the mirror was fogged with condensation that seemed to move in patterns that hurt to look at directly.
"What the actual spell?" Lyra muttered, poking her head back into the bathroom cautiously. The electrical chaos had stopped the moment she'd left the room, but she could feel something hovering just on the edge of her awareness—a presence that felt protective and disapproving in equal measure.
A vibration broke her focus—her phone lighting up a message, though she was fairly certain she hadn't given anyone her number yet. The message was from an unknown sender and contained only five words: "Ancient magic requires ancient solutions."
"Nico," Lyra said to no one in particular in the hallway. "I'm going to strangle that smug fae with his own cryptic warnings."
She tried three more times to shower alone, with increasingly dramatic results. The second attempt shorted out the inn's electrical system entirely. The third triggered something akin to a magical feedback loop that made every piece of metal in the bathroom glow cherry red. The fourth attempt was interrupted by the fire alarm, though there was no actual fire—just the scent of ozone and something that reminded her disturbingly of brimstone.
By ten in the morning, Lyra had admitted defeat and called The Spellbound Sip.
"Junie?" she said when the older woman picked up. "It's Lyra. I hate to ask, but do you happen to have shower facilities that don't try to electrocute chaos witches?"
"Oh, honey," Junie said, and Lyra could hear the sympathy in her voice. "The proximity protocols kicked in, didn't they?"
"The what now?"
"Founder's magic comes with built-in safeguards," Junie explained. "When you're bonded to something as powerful as a rune seal, the magic tries to protect its investment. That means making sure you're not alone when your power levels are fluctuating."
"My power levels are fluctuating?"
"Every day for the first few weeks, probably. Your magic is trying to adapt to the rune connection. It's a bit like magical puberty—messy, unpredictable, and absolutely miserable for everyone involved."
Lyra sank into one of the kitchen chairs, still wearing yesterday's clothes and feeling like she hadn't slept in a week. "Please tell me there's a way to turn it off."
"Not exactly," Junie said carefully. "But the protocols usually accept magical proximity from other supernatural species. Especially those with compatible power signatures."
"Compatible how?"
"Well, founder bloodlines tend to resonate with each other. Wolf, witch, and fae magic were designed to work together, so?—"
"Oh, no," Lyra interrupted. "No, no, no. I am not asking Cade Halloway to babysit me because my magic is having some kind of supernatural temper tantrum."
"It's not babysitting," Junie said reasonably. "It's just... companionship. Until your power stabilizes."
"How long does that take?"
