Frigga

While the salon of the Magnus-Monroe mansion was always pleasant, Theodore had obviously had the space updated for the engagement party because it was nothing short of gorgeous: its white marble tile sparkled and the large windows opened wide to let the warm spring aura into the space and to allow the singing of the string duet he’d hired to serenade the lower gardens in exchange. Unlike the formal ball of the week previous, today’s gathering was limited to the coven members and their families so it was much quieter. Frigga was grateful for this, she really hadn’t been sleeping well and, as this party was for her and Marcus’ engagement to be officially announced (and therefore to subject her to everyone’s opinions on the matter), the pleasantly calm tone of today’s affair suited her just fine. It was almost nice, even if she had to hear for the fourth time how relieved someone was that Marcus had finally decided to settle down or for the sixth time about how amazing the match would be for the coven and the city and everyone’s families.

In between the well-wishes, Marcus would lean into Frigga and crack some joke or make an observation. After Victoria Bloodswell had politely and somewhat coldly congratulated them, he took the opportunity. “That woman is almost as scary as your aunt. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s turned into a ghost herself. Should we ask the Blackwoods to hold a seance the next time we need to hold a business meeting?” He stuck the tip of his tongue out and winked.

Frigga giggled, lightly slapping Marcus’ arm that linked with hers. “Hush! You didn’t expect Victoria to be enthusiastic, did you?”

“No, not if it even remotely involved your aunt. She’s looking at Sapphire like she’s trying to explode her head telepathically. Is that even possible?”

“I doubt it, but you could ask Gina or Mildred.”

“Oh yeah? “Hey, Gina, is it magically possible to cause spontaneous combustion? Asking for a friend.” What’s Victoria’s issue anyway?”

“I’m not sure. I always thought it was just the old family drama of who’s family should have been in leadership.”

“Nah, it’s way too explosive for it to be over a hundred-year-old conspiracy theory.”

“I think it’s more that my aunt refused her proposal to investigate it a while back.”

“Why?”

“She didn’t have any new evidence, is what Auntie said.”

“When was that?”

“About thirty years ago, now.”

Marcus rolled his eyes and snickered humourlessly as Frigga looked around the room. Who hadn’t they spoken with yet? They’d seen the Morgansons and Cromwells, Ophelia and Aphrodite Rynauld were in a lively conversation with Morgan Blackwood about something, and the Downspires were in the middle of searching for their youngest daughter who, Frigga was pretty sure, was hiding under the table with Leland in the opposite corner of the room.

Leland’s friendship with Celeste was so cute. She was about a year older than him and was quite gifted. Leland had some kind of crush on her. Frigga couldn’t blame him, she was a cute kid, and it was good for him to be around a witch his age. He wasn't very involved in official coven events, so being around Celeste was a good way of including him in the group’s social life.

From that corner came a sudden eruption of magic followed by the coughing of two small children. Frigga quickly glanced at Marcus who released her, and she rushed to investigate. She was joined by Sapphire as the two children crawled out from the table, thankfully uninjured but Leland was covered in some sort of neon blue dust, like it had exploded in his hands. It painted the entirety of his pastel blue button-down, his palms, most of his face, and some even settled into his mop of red curls. Celeste, though less affected, was spotted with a significant splatter of blue down the front of her pink dress as well as in her black coiled buns. “Something magical happened!” she cheered between giggles.

Sapphire and Frigga looked from Celeste to Leland who laughed along with his friend as he tried to dust himself off. “She showed me her conjurations, and I wanted to try!”

“Leland, did you do that?” Sapphire asked breathlessly, grabbing a napkin from the table they’d crawled out from under. 

“Yeah, it didn’t go very good! It exploded!”

The room froze at Leland’s explanation. And then Aurora Morgansons began to excitedly clap closely followed by the rest of the guests. Sapphire and Frigga gathered Leland up in a big hug, his aunt planting a kiss on his cheek much to the young boy’s obvious embarrassment. “Well done!” Sapphire praised as Leland squirmed in her hold. “I knew you’d show your magic one day! This is wonderful, Leland!”

“We always believed in you,” Frigga added as she and Sapphire released the boy.

“Frigga,” Sapphire said as she straightened, “will you take Leland and see if you can’t clean him up a bit? Goodness, that got all over you!”

“And Celeste!” Leland chirped proudly.

“I can do that,” Frigga answered as she grabbed Leland’s hand. “Come on, let’s see if we can get some of that out. 

She carefully led Leland to the nearest powder room, accepting congratulations for herself and Leland as she went, and had her brother sit on a chair after making sure he wouldn’t accidentally ruin it with the blue dust. “Hang on, I’ll get us a towel or something.”

“Sure.” The young boy peered around the room curiously, his shiny brown leather shoes kicking his seat.

Frigga found a rag, dampened it, and pulled up a stool next to him to start scrubbing at the stain. “This is exciting!” she said encouragingly.

Leland shrugged. “Maybe but it probably doesn’t matter.”

His sister frowned and looked at his face. His complexion matched hers, pale skin littered with freckles, but he had their father’s brown eyes. He looked a lot like their father, actually. Leland took after him in a lot of ways, not that he’d know it, his father died before he was born. Byron Smith had been a kind-hearted, mischief-loving man. Frigga had so many memories of him coming home from working at the smithy he’d bought when she was young and she remembered how dearly he loved her and her mother, how he’d bring home bits of shiny raw materials for Frigga to experiment with or a bundle of wildflowers for Abigail that he’d picked on his way home. While Leland had never met his father, looking at him always made Frigga feel like she was speaking with him again. “Why do you say that?” she asked with a slight frown.

Leland laughed, as if the answer was obvious. “Auntie already said you had to be the next Heir, right?”

Frigga rubbed forcefully at his shirt sleeve, checked to see if she was making any progress, and winced because there was no change whatsoever. “Sure, but that doesn’t mean your magic has no purpose! It’s not just for coven work, my magic helps me too!”

Leland rolled his eyes. “But Auntie is going to make me study more, I know it! I already get so bored. It’s borrrring!”

The stain wasn’t coming out. Frigga scowled at it, her nose wrinkling in frustration. “Yes, it can be. But,” she paused and looked at her brother, a mischievous smile spreading onto her glossed lips, “there’s lots of things that make magic fun. Want to see?”

Her brother nodded furiously. Frigga sat up and looked around the room for inspiration; it was a small room, painted soft pink with white crown moulding, shiny marble tiles, and wall-length mirrors. Behind the pink velvet chaise Leland was perched on hung a large painting of a woodland scene in an ornate hardwood frame. Someone had fallen asleep on the forest’s floor and was surrounded by all sorts of small animals. Perfect. Frigga focussed in on a small rabbit in the front of the painting, pointed a finger at it, and released a soft burst of energy.

It impacted, burst like fireworks, and the rabbit began to animate and jump out of the painting and all around the room leaving footprints of sparkling cerulean light behind it. Leland shrieked with laughter, and Frigga couldn’t help but giggle at the boy’s reaction. She pulled a few other creatures: a bird, a mouse, had them join the rabbit in running around the room and under the chairs, one even hopped into Leland’s lap. His eyes were huge with wonder, and when he went to pet the rabbit, it and the other animated creatures dissolved into white light just to reappear in their original spots in the painting.

Leland burst into applause, and Frigga nodded in a graceful half-bow. “Why thank you, sir!”

“Cool! Why don’t you do more stuff like that at home?”

“There aren’t a lot of practical uses for this kind of illusion, but sometimes if I can’t sleep I animate a few of the angels on my ceiling to dance for me.”

“You think I can do it too?”

Frigga nodded, picking the rag back up to half-heartedly wipe at the boy’s mussed up face. At least that was coming out though it still left a slight tint behind. “I think you can do anything you want, Lee, but what’s more important is finding the type of magic that resonates with you most! Everyone is different, right?

He looked down to his ruined shirt. “You can’t use magic to clean it?”

Frigga sighed in frustration as she finished wiping his face and started at his hair. “I think you’ve gone and changed the colour of the fabric itself, but I don’t want to mess with it until you’re not wearing it anymore.” She grinned and leaned in close, as if to tell a secret. Leland mirrored her. She whispered, “Wouldn’t want to accidentally explode you.”

Leland cackled. “You can’t do that!”

She crossed her arms, a brow raised comically high. “Oh, you think so do you?”

Leland rigorously shook his head. “Nope!”

“I think I could!”

“Nu-uh!”

“Uh-huh!”

After about ten rounds of “nu-uh” and “yeah-huh”, the two of them dissolved into a fit of giggles. Frigga was going to be missed if they were gone much longer, but it was nice to spend time with her brother away from it all and a welcome escape from all the social chess she’d had to play all afternoon. When the siblings calmed down, Frigga said. “I think we should be getting back.”

Leland groaned. “It’s so boring, though.”

Frigga smiled sympathetically as she stood and hung the rag on a nearby towel rack. “Yes, it is.”

“Isn’t it your party?”

“It’s still boring. And stressful. Just be thankful you don’t have to deal with adult stuff.”

“Why?”

Frigga paused to carefully phrase her complaint so that Leland didn’t get a distorted image of practice generally. “I love our members, of course I do. And the magic we do is so much more powerful than any one of us can do on our own and it’s great to work with other amazing witches! But I’m not fond of all the responsibilities that come along with being Auntie Sapphire’s Heir.”

Leland nodded solemnly. “Do you think Gertrude will make me a cake when we get home?”

Frigga chuckled as she held her hand out for Leland to help him from his seat. “Maybe. Like a birthday cake?”

Leland took her hand and jumped up from his seat. “Yeah, but for magic-day.”

Frigga took a deep breath, steeling herself against the thought of returning to the party. But her chest softened with a thought. “I think I know someone that could do that for you, Leland.”

Marcus

While Frigga was busy with Leland, Marcus tried to take the opportunity to talk to some of his friends. Wade was going on and on about his most recent project, some kind of astral-construct, Saffron was already in a debate with Gina about the best kind of water to infuse with magic when growing plants indoors, and Helios Cromwell was too busy lecturing his twin brothers Gabriel and Michael about the differences between a ritual cleansing and a sacramental cleansing. Not his idea of interesting talk, so when he spied Rosalind Bloodswell standing on their own off to the side, Marcus cautiously made his way over.

Rosalind wasn’t someone Marcus knew well because they always kept people at a distance. It was his duty to get to know all the coven’s members though, especially the Heirs as he would be working with them the most in the future. Besides, Marcus found Rosalind fascinating. They stayed out of the spotlight, barely participated in the politics of the group meetings, and for being the Heir of Victoria Bloodswell, they were incredibly considerate of others. Like Frigga, Rosalind was lauded as a genius of magic, but aside from that Marcus knew almost nothing about them.

But he did know that they were beautiful, like if a vampire and a fairy had a baby.

When Rosalind had transitioned a few years ago, it had caught his’ attention. They often favoured masculine presentations, which Marcus had a proclivity towards, but usually had some flash of feminine flare or jewelry to contrast it. That was a style choice Marcus absolutely resonated with, though his preferred method of playing with gender presentation was much more colourful and flamboyant than theirs. Their ensemble today wasn’t anything out of the ordinary with their black suit and remarkably cut jacket, but their ruby stud earrings complimented an ornate ruby and gold snake broach on their lapel. It almost seemed as if they were attempting to hide by pressing into the darkest wall to blend in with the hardwood shelves and by being even quieter than usual, but their camouflage was no match for Marcus’ social radar.

“Rosalind, hi.” Marcus took up a spot near them, but not too close. He didn’t want to make them uncomfortable because they would absolutely leave if he did.

“Hello,” they replied, their eyes holding his gaze. Did they think he had something in particular to say to them? Gods, this was already difficult and he was only two sentences into this conversation!

“I like your brooch, it really suits you!”

That seemed to assure them he had no real business to discuss and their tense expression eased as they took a sip of their drink. “Thank you.”

Marcus mirrored them and sipped his wine before saying, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

Rosalind paused, like the question was complex an not just small-talk. “I was in the midst of some work before we left.”

Marcus laughed; so that was a no. “Yeah, I guess this isn’t really your idea of a good time, huh?”

Rosalind looked out at the crowd with the smallest of frowns. “No.” A beat of silence passed, Marcus let it. He didn’t want to pressure Rosalind into a conversation if they weren’t comfortable or interested. His father had once complained that they’d left mid-conversation because they hadn’t found his usual small-talk about roads all that engaging. Marcus didn’t blame them for that, but his patience was rewarded when they spoke again. “Congratulations on your engagement.”

“Thanks! Just don’t tell me like almost everyone else has about how they’ve been waiting for this for years, yeah? I feel like I’m being scolded every time.”

“It is significant for the coven,” Rosalind said without enthusiasm, and Marcus sensed they were just being polite. He would try and liven the conversation up a bit, see if he couldn’t find a topic that would keep their interest.

“I don’t know, I just think my old man’s over-excited about this whole thing, and Sapphire scares the ghost out of me.” 

Rosalind’s mask of ambivalence cracked subtly and they smirked. It filled him with a warm feeling he hadn’t been expecting. “Understandable, she is intense.”

Marcus’s heart leapt as he spotted his opening and snatched it. “It’s just my luck that I have to be around her so much now! I’m sure she’s a nice lady, and she and my father are good friends, but I think,” Marcus leaned in closer to Rosalind who inclined their ear to hear him as he dropped his volume, “she needs a bottle of wine and a locked room with someone her type, you know?”

They turned their head away and Marcus saw them trying to hide a laugh with the way they covered their mouth with their pale fingers. But it was unmistakeable, they chuckled softly and had enjoyed that much more than they were supposed to. Had he ever seen them laugh? He wasn’t sure but he most definitely wanted to make them laugh again.

Once their neutral mask was back in place, they said, “Most of us in the coven do,” and took a sip afterwards like they were trying to hide what they had said behind the glass.

Marcus grinned, he liked this side of Rosalind. “Every time I try and talk to someone, they’re always talking about tradition and celestial movements or whatever, which is fine but I really didn’t want to hear about blood pacts today.”

Rosalind sighed. “Yes, I can certainly sympathize with that.” 

Across the room, a group roared with laughter and the witch flinched minutely. “Are you alright?” Marcus asked.

Rosalind’s eyes shot back to him before sliding away again. He thought they were reddened, though their glance had been too brief to really see for sure. “Yes. I’m just… not fond of sudden loud noises.”

Now that was something Marcus could use. “You could always hide away in the library, it’s usually pretty quiet. I could show you, if you want.”

Rosalind peered back at Marcus with a look of surprised interest. Oh their eyes were red, like they hadn’t slept at all. “Really?”

Marcus grinned. “I used to hide in there when my governess was trying to make me study. She always made math and history feel like torture so I’d hide in the poetry section. It took her like a year to figure it out, but by then I’d already read through the classics and memorized half of them.”

Frigga and Leland returned to the party. She had not been particularly successful cleaning the boy up, but he didn’t seem to care by the way he raced back to Celeste. Marcus knew he didn’t have a lot more time to chat with Rosalind, but he didn’t want to end their conversation yet.

Rosalind swirled their drink, seeming to mutter to themself rather than speaking to Marcus, “Good thing it was poetry and not necromancy, I guess.”

Marcus decided to take a little risk, just to see their reaction. “Similar enough! Bringing the dead back to life is pretty poetic! Sounds romantic, actually.”

Rosalind faltered and their eyes darted to the floor. “I… I suppose if you put it like that,” Rosalind hastily replied before clearing their throat. “I think if I were to disappear my mother would have a stroke, now or when I was little.”

Well, well, that was the most sanitized tone Marcus had ever heard, and it made him want to push more. He gently placed a hand on Rosalind’s shoulder. “You should come over another time, then! I found something recently that made me think of you, actually.”

Rosalind looked at the hand touching them and then back up to Marcus, a wary glint in their eye. “What?” they asked as a slight flush coloured the tips of their ears.

Marcus withdrew his arm and grinned. “Well, if I told you you might not come over.”

They considered and Marcus tried to be patient for their answer despite the thrill in his chest. His hands began to trace his braid that was draped over his shoulder down his front, and he had to consciously keep himself from pulling it all out and re-braiding it again. His guest finally replied, their gaze fixed on the hands fidgeting in his hair, “I have always been curious about the legendary Magnus-Monroe library.”

“Come over any time,” Marcus chirped but paused, deciding on a bit of honesty. “Maybe not tomorrow though, I’m probably going to be a little hungover.”

Rosalind winced sympathetically. “My condolences,” they offered, the tiniest hint of a chuckle hidden in it.

Had he ever heard Rosalind joke before? His chest warmed at the realization they’d just joked with him and Marcus laughed. “I mean, a party’s not a party without a good stream of wine! My father broke out the good stuff for this.”

Rosalind looked at their own glass, and it was now Marcus realized they were not indulging in the wine as he had thought but had the carbonated juice that had been brought in for the kids. It was a different colour, though. Had they cast a glamour on it to disguise the fact they were not indulging? Why? “Fair enough,” they murmured. “Enjoy a glass for me, then."

Marcus’ curiosity was starting to spiral out of control. “Oh, I certainly will but why not have one yourself?”

“Alcohol… doesn’t agree with me,” they said as if the idea of drinking wine had personally trampled on their favourite jacket.

Marcus nodded graciously. “Ah, then I shall endeavour to enjoy two glasses on your behalf.” He then tossed a look over his shoulder to look for his fiancé and found her cornered in a conversation with Moira Blackwood that she seemed not quite happy to be in. He looked back to Rosalind, and he let his disappointment show. “It looks like I must rescue the damsel.”

Their eyes flickered from him to Frigga across the room, and their expression closed off once more. “Of course,” they replied dryly, offering their hand to shake, their eyes affixed somewhere behind him. “Congratulations, again.”

Marcus’ gut lurched again with disappointment, he’d just started to see Rosalind letting down their guard, but his heart fluttered when he shook their hand; it was chilled against his own, warm palm. “Thanks,” he answered, and, smiling with all the charm he could muster he asked, “I’ll be seeing you soon?”

Their eyes flashed up and met his again and Marcus saw their defences falter in their surprise. The warmth in his chest intensified. “Yes,” they replied, and they smiled. Smiled. He’d never seen them smile before, not one that wasn’t cynical, at least. It was stunning.

He rejoined his fiancée. Maybe he should have felt guilty about that little conversation, about inviting Rosalind over for some one-on-one, but it was just a bit of fun. Just because he was engaged didn’t mean he couldn’t get to know people he found attractive, that would be absurd! He had always wanted to get to know Rosalind a bit better and it would be good for him to establish a better relationship with the Bloodswell family. It was totally innocent, right? Even if they had been more receptive to his semi-flirtatious etiquette than his fiancée ever had. Still, nothing to worry about.

Marcus and Frigga spent the rest of the evening doing their rounds, interspersed with a little dancing every so often. Marcus loved to dance and Frigga was a lovely dance partner, though her slight stature could make things a bit comical; Marcus wasn’t exceptionally tall, but the woman was the shortest adult he knew. Despite that, the newly engaged pair were applauded and flattered all afternoon until even he was sick of it.

True to his word, Marcus had another two glasses of wine by the evening’s end. He was a dignified tipsy, not completely drunk, so it didn’t reflect poorly on him. Besides, he’d done that more than enough over the years and he didn’t want to embarrass Frigga. It was an improvement in his behaviour to not be entirely plastered by the party’s halfway point, a bad habit he’d had to get under control recently, but he’d fix that when everyone left. Open wine shouldn’t be left to waste, after all, that would be irresponsible.

Victoria and Rosalind were the last to leave, save the Thornehearts, and Victoria elegantly lavished Theodore with praise about how wonderful a time she had had and how gorgeous the home was. It was almost comical and clearly too much for Rosalind who said nothing except the bare minimum before being whisked away. Before they turned to leave, however, Marcus was treated to another smile from Rosalind which made the entire evening worth it. They would visit him this week, he was certain, and he would make sure to make them smile again when they did.

Frigga

Leland burst through the door as the family arrived home and nearly crashed into Gertrude in his excitement. “Gerty! I did magic!” he proclaimed as the woman kept him from toppling over and gathered the boy into a hug.

“I see,” she answered enthusiastically, tugging at a portion of the boy’s altered sleeve. “Is that what this is?”

Leland nodded furiously and grinned. “Yeah, Celeste showed me how to make a dust ball, and I did it but it exploded!” He wriggled out of the woman’s hug and started running around the empty foyer, mimicking explosion sounds and waving his hands around.

Gertrude took Frigga and Sapphire’s jackets and called after him, “Tha’s wonderful!” and then muttered, “I’m so thrilled about that stain I’ll have to wash out.”

Sapphire chuckled softly and made her way up to her office while Frigga hesitated. “I don’t think you’ll win that battle, Gertrude,” she offered. When the woman looked at her, Frigga grimaced. “I tried washing it out, but he magically altered its colour. You might need to re-dye it.”

“Goodness,” said the woman. “That’s quite unique, changing a fabric’s colour completely and not jus’ the appearance.”

Frigga hummed. “At least it was that and not something more dangerous. Celeste’s first spell nearly caused a window to shatter onto her brother.”

“I remember, but she’s come a long way, no?”

“I think so, Edna said she wanted Celeste to start participating in ritual soon.”

“It’s exciting, having another young one! We haven’t had a wee one since Aphrodite Rynauld came of age six years ago.”

Frigga politely smiled at Gertrude. “Let me know if you need help with it, I didn’t want to fiddle with the stain while Leland was wearing the suit.”

Gertrude curtsied. “‘Course, Miss.” The attendant then led Leland to his room and Frigga followed her aunt to the office. The door was open, and Frigga heard Sapphire speaking with her manservant.

“And if you might fetch me Miss Wood, I’d appreciate it.”

“Ma’am? She’s off for the night.”

“I recognize that, but I need to speak with her about tomorrow. I’m switching her shift to overnights.”

Switching Razi’s shift? Why? Before Frigga could form a hypothesis, Stephan bowed, abruptly turned, and swept out of the room.

“Frigga!” Sapphire called when she saw her niece in the doorway. “Come on in, I’ve just had Stephan go down for some tea!” Frigga obeyed and entered the room, sitting on one of the armchairs by the fireplace. “What a lovely evening, Theodore always throws such wonderful parties!”

“Yes,” the younger witch agreed as she watched her aunt peel off the ornate silk shrug she wore on top of her silver and blue dress. “And I’m so happy for Leland,” Frigga replied with as neutral a tone as she could muster.

“Yes!” Sapphire sang, joining her niece by the fire. “What a relief, I was starting to give up hope! I’ll have to call on Cecelia Thatcher to run him through the basics. I hope she’s available.”

Frigga fondled the pendant on her necklace absently. “Does this mean he’s eligible to be the Heir, Auntie?” She didn’t want to get her hopes up, but the question was one any inoffensively curious person might have.

“Technically he would be,” Sapphire answered with practiced incuriousness, “though with his late blooming you’re still obviously the best option.”

Frigga’s heart sank. “We don’t know that for certain. Great-grandfather Zeus was a late bloomer, and he was a wonderful leader! You’ve told me so many stories about his prowess with circle-engineering and how it changed the way Ozelea as a whole designs them!”

Sapphire looked at her niece, her eyes narrowing slightly. “He did. Grandfather was an excellent leader and draftsman, but not a gifted witch. My grandmother was twice as powerful as he ever was.” A soft swish at the door announced the tea’s arrival at the hands of Noel, a pretty lady Frigga rarely saw but was usually more than happy to interact with. Frigga briefly acknowledged her with the politest of smiles before looking back to her aunt.

When Noel was gone, Sapphire began pouring each of them a cup of spearmint tea. Frigga replied, “I understand that late-blooming is usually associated with a lack of potency, but it’s not always the case. You told me my mother was a late-bloomer too.”

Sapphire quirked a brow and her expression hardened. “Yes she was. Abigail was the exception to a long-established rule. Your mother was always the exception,” she ruefully added so quietly Frigga nearly didn’t hear it. Though her aunt had never said anything to confirm Frigga’s suspicions, it was clear Abigail and Sapphire hadn’t been close. They’d been born thirteen years apart and while her aunt always maintained that she’d always been the intended Thorneheart Heir, Frigga hadn’t missed the occasional envious comment about Abigail. She’d been abnormally gifted, it was well-recorded coven history and part of the reason Frigga had been established as the Heir Apparent so young.

Sapphire finished pouring the tea, handed her niece a cup, and then took up her own. “Frigga, you’ve been preparing your entire life for this role, do you not want to make your family proud?”

Frigga lost enthusiasm for her libation and looked into the fireplace. “Of course I do, I just wonder if I’m the right person for the job. Leland is more friendly and outgoing, and he doesn’t get overwhelmed by large events the way I do.”

“Nonsense, Dear!” Sapphire quipped after sipping at her tea. “You do a wonderful job with parties! The coven members love you! You’ll be a wonderful coven leader, but this all reminds me.” She placed her teacup back on the table and walked to her desk. On it was a sandy envelope that looked as if it would burst if a single piece of paper was added to it, which Sapphire grabbed before returning to her seat and handing the envelope to Frigga. “These are all the wedding decisions I have made so far, and I thought you’d like to review them. The date’s been set to August sixteenth.”

Frigga barely withheld a scowl as she peeked into the envelope. “Why so soon?”

“Why wait?” was her aunt’s nonchalant answer.

Frigga didn’t have an appropriate response. Two and a half months until her wedding with her initiation following less than a week later. Sapphire would be amping up her preparations for both now the engagement party was finished. “I suppose,” was the only answer Frigga could give.

Sapphire smiled softly at her compliance. “Off to bed, Frigga, take your tea. I’ve a meeting with the servants shortly and I need to reply to Ophelia’s request before the end of the night. She asked for special access to a particular text, so she’ll be by early tomorrow.”

Frigga nodded dejectedly and left the office with her tea and envelope. Leland having magic changed nothing for her, and asking about it was always going to be pointless. She was still going to be made the Heir in less than three months time, but it was a mere formality; she was as trapped now as she ever was. As she slipped back into her room, she flung the envelope at her vanity and sat on her bench in the alcove that overlooked the manor’s main drive. The sun had set long before, and the property was shadowed. The sky was perfectly free of clouds so the witch looked up to the heavens and found comfort in the stars’ company.

Sipping at her tea, Frigga looked for her favourite constellations and tried to come up with new ones. She wondered what the constellations elsewhere in the world looked like and if she’d ever see them. The moon was perfectly full tonight, and the coven would be meeting here the next day to take full advantage of it. Frigga was already drained from this evening’s party, and she’d have to muster up yet more fortitude to perform again tomorrow. She wouldn’t even get to see Razi with the coven coming over.

Her aunt was putting Razi on an overnight shift. How bizarre. For what purpose and for how long? She’d ask Razi about it the day after tomorrow, for now Frigga needed to rest; she finished her tea and called for Doris’ help to get ready for bed. Once she was redressed and her hair was carefully tucked into a braid for the night, Frigga fell asleep.