Astoria was right. I had let this house and its memories swallow me whole. But now, I was ready to fight back. I couldn’t just abandon the estate to the darkness my family had unleashed. I would fix this.
But how?
After hours of research, it seemed light magic was the best place to start. The problem was, I couldn’t bring myself to cast anything with Astoria nearby, flinching at every spark. I didn’t want to bring back her nightmares, didn’t want to see her twist in the grip of memories like I did.
Finally, I decided the only way forward was to ask. “Astoria?” I said, voice soft, testing.
“Hmm?” She didn’t look up from her book.
“I found something that might help,” I ventured.
Her gaze lifted, excitement flickering in her eyes. “Really?”
“Yes, there are rituals—light magic meant to cleanse dark magic. I was thinking... maybe you could spend the afternoon in the garden? Or take some apples out to your mare?”
She frowned, closing her book. “You don’t want my help?”
“I do,” I replied, hesitant. “But I know how human magic affects you, and I don’t want to bring back any unpleasant memories.”
She sighed, the frustration clear on her face. “I’m so tired of this.”
“Of me?” I asked, pulling back.
“No,” she shook her head, “of myself. I live in the Borderlands, for goodness’ sake. It’s not like I can avoid human magic forever.”
“It’s only been a few months,” I reminded her, trying to ease her guilt.
“Yes, but now my weakness is hurting other people.”
“You’re not hurting anyone,” I said firmly. “I can cast the spell while you’re outside. It’s not a problem.”
She sighed again, deeply this time, and looked down at the book resting by her hand. Then, with a reluctant but determined motion, she slid it across the table to me.
“What’s this?” I asked, glancing at the page.
“A light spell,” she replied, her voice quieter now. “One that combines human and fae magic. Can you think of anything more powerful, considering the nature of the dark magic here?”
I skimmed the details, my heart pounding as the realization hit. No, I couldn’t think of anything more powerful. This darkness had been born from the division between humans and fae—from hatred and war. What better way to undo it than by merging the very magic it sought to destroy?
Magic requires balance, they had always taught us at the college.
“This could be helpful,” I admitted.
Her eyes lit up with that familiar fierce determination. “Then let’s do it,” she said, her voice firm.
We began the spell together, side by side. But as I watched, Astoria’s hand started to tremble, the shimmering iridescence of her fae magic flickering like a candle in the wind. My own magic began to build, slow and steady, but her shaking only grew worse. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw it—a single tear rolling down her cheek.
I dropped my hands, stopping the flow of magic.
Then, filled with uncertainty, I wrapped her in a hug. To my surprise, she let herself collapse against my chest, sobbing into my shirt.
I patted her back soothingly. “It’s okay,” I murmured. “We’ll find another way.”
* * *
Astoria spent the rest of the afternoon in the garden, grooming her mare, while I wrestled with the most complicated light magic spell I could find. The work was slow and unforgiving, but the room felt lighter than it had in years.
By the time the sky darkened, she returned, carrying a tray laden with a steaming cup of tea and a plate of eggs, sausage, potatoes, tomatoes, and toast. The scent hit me, and I realized just how hungry I was.
I devoured the food without hesitation. But it was the tea that held my attention—a vivid blue brew, delicate flowers floating on the surface. I turned the cup in my hands, intrigued, then took a cautious sip. It was sweet with a light, floral hint, and as it slid down my throat, a strange sense of calm spread through me.
“Do you like it?” she asked softly.
“I do,” I murmured. “Thank you… for everything.”
Astoria shifted on her feet, rubbing the edge of her sleeve between her fingers. “It’s the least I could do.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” I reminded her gently. “This is my mess to clean up.” Before I could stop myself, my hands closed around hers.
First the hug, now this. Why did I keep reaching for her?
I couldn’t help it. Every touch sparked through me, a quiet flame igniting beneath my skin—warmth, longing, and the unmistakable sense that I was exactly where I was meant to be.
* * *
Later that evening, I found a book I thought would cheer Astoria up. I passed it across the table to her.
There are many ways to heal dark magic–holistic and targeted. Holistic methods include gardening, cooking, even laughter and love. All of these things can bring warmth and light magic back to a house.
She blushed when she read the word love, and my inner beast hummed with pleasure.
She said hurriedly, “But these may be too slow for our situation. Your kitchen is phenomenal, but we will run out of food eventually.”
“You can use your fae magic to speed up gardening. I know you have an affinity for it.”
She grinned mischievously. “Thinking of your numerous losses to me on the botany practicals?”
I snatched the book from her hand, holding it high above my head with a teasing grin. “I just don’t think it’s fair to put humans and fae in the same class. You’re beings of nature.”
“Hey!” she shot back, laughing. “I don’t remember any complaints when we were in spellcasting class together.” She playfully swatted at the book, but I held it just out of reach, her fingertips grazing air.
I took a few steps back, leaning casually against the nearest bookshelf, my height giving me the advantage. “Looks like I have the upper hand here too.”
She laughed, her eyes narrowing with determination. Before I could react, she leapt up, her hand brushing my forearm in a bold attempt to snatch the book. In her momentum, her body collided with mine, pressing flush against my chest.
The air between us thickened, humming with something unspoken. Her lips parted, and I felt a pull, stronger than anything I could have cast with magic.
Then, almost without thinking, I leaned in, closing the distance between us. My lips brushed hers, tentatively at first, testing. She hesitated for a brief moment before melting into the kiss, her fingers curling around the hem of my shirt as if anchoring herself to me.
The book slipped from my hand, thudding softly onto the floor, forgotten. Heat surged through me, the feeling of her, of us, something raw and real threading between us, binding us closer.
When we finally pulled apart, her eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed. I rested my forehead against hers, breathing her in, my heart still racing.
After a beat, she leaned down and snatched up the book I’d dropped, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Aha,” she said with a triumphant smile.
I narrowed my eyes, half-teasing. “Please tell me you didn’t kiss me just to get the book back.”
“No,” she said, her voice light. “That was just a delightful bonus.”
I grinned.