“It’ll be okay,” Adelaide whispered. “We’ll figure this out. We always do.”
She was wrong.Wedidn’t figure out anything. I always handled the problems that came our way, and for the first time in my life, I was out of solutions.
Six
DRAVEN
The tavern was surprisingly full of patrons with the incoming storm, their chatter filling the space.
I paced behind the bar, watching the door for any signs of Edgar and my sister. I’d explicitly told Georgie she was to stay in the apartment over the tavern, and as usual, she hadn’t listened. She’d always been rebellious, stubborn, impulsive, but ever since we’d moved here a year ago, her behavior had gotten worse.
I thought Thistlegrove would be the perfect place for us since it was the same small town my parents had hailed from. I hadn’t lived here in a long, long time, spending my adult years in the capital where I worked. After my parents died, Georgie had moved away from Thistlegrove and in with our grandmother. Then the incident happened, and I brought Georgie here to start over, hoping maybe she’d reconnect with this place.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t.
It felt like my younger sister resented me more every day, and, in turn, acted out. Her latest escapade had involved stealing seeds from the town market. Seeds. Something we could easily afford. If she’d just asked, I would’ve bought them for her.
I rubbed my temples. Worrying would do no good. She and Edgar would probably be back soon, and I had work to do.
A few pieces of parchment lay on the bar top. I’d been working on the spell for mugs to travel from the bar directly to the patrons. I didn’t take old man Veldar and his rants too seriously, but I also didn’t like that the current spell wasn’t perfect. It needed tweaking somewhere, but I hadn’t figured out exactly what part.
I rubbed my eyes, looking at the series of scribbles on the parchment. I scratched out a few words, then grabbed one of the mugs behind me and held it while saying the words of the new spell. The mug glowed brightly as the magic worked its way through it.
Magic was complex and varied so much from spell to spell. Different ingredients, different wording, different phrases could often produce the same result.
I drummed my fingers on the bar top, peering at the newly spelled mug and wondering if I’d fixed the problem of the landing.
The door swung open, Georgie stomping in with Edgar behind her. Her thick black hair was twined in a braid that fell down her back, her green eyes flashing with fury as she set them on me and wove her way between tables toward the bar. A few patrons took notice, nodding at Georgie as she passed by, but she paid them no attention.
“You sent my babysitter after me?” she said accusingly as she reached the bar.
Edgar landed on my shoulder, his wings curling around him. “Babysitter?” His orange eyes shifted between the two of us. “But you’re not a baby, Georgie.”
“She didn’t mean it literally, Edgar,” I said, an edge to my voice. “And you’re not a babysitter. You’re a friend.”
“Oh, really?” Georgie planted her hands on her slim hips, her trousers with bits of mud and debris on them. I wondered what she’d been up to. “Do friends spy on each other? Do they order each other around?”
Edgar raised a talon in the air. “I did ask nicely if you’d come with me.”
“Where were you?” I ground out. “I was worried.”
She snorted. “It’s none of your business.”
“I would disagree.” I crossed my arms. “In fact, as your caretaker, I’d say it’s the opposite.”
She forged on like I hadn’t even spoken. “Besides, you do realize I’ve been gone for four hours. Must not have been that worried,” she mumbled, scuffing the toe of her boot on the floor.
“I’ve been working,” I said, voice stern. “Something you could learn a little about.” I looked at the dirty tables around the tavern meaningfully, then nodded my head toward the rag sitting between us.
Georgie narrowed her gaze. “You know, making me do this is unpaid labor, which is illegal in the Witchlands. Minors aren’t supposed to work until we’re out of primary school, and I still have two more years of schooling.”
“Illegal?” Edgar piped up, his ears perking up. “We’re engaging in illegal activity? Are the magistrates going to arrest us?” He put a paw to his mouth. “Are we going to be sent to the Dearthsten Prisons?”
I rolled my eyes. “No and no.” I turned my attention to Georgie. “And it’s not unpaid labor. It’s called chores. This is our home, and as someone who lives here, you need to pitch in.” I threw the rag at Georgie, and she caught it, glaring at me.
“You’re one of the most powerful witches on Thaloria.” She squeezed the rag tight, a few drops of water ringing out. “You could spell this rag to clean all the tables.”
“I could.” I pretended to think about it, then smacked my lips. “But I’m not going to. I think you do a better job than any spelled rag could.”