Page 20 of Board Games and Broomsticks

‘Knots unravelled, one, two three;

I command this curse to no longer be.’

The ring began to rattle in the cauldron as the physical knots unravelled one by one, so violently that the cauldron itself began to shake. But Nyssa kept her focus on the knots, on her intent to unweave the curse as she willed her magic to untie them. And finally, when the third knot slipped loose, the ring fell still.

The smoke in the air dissipated, taking the foul stench with it. Nyx hopped up on to the table and peered into the cauldron, and then looked back up at Nyssa with a pleased trill.

‘Well, if you say it’s safe …’ Nyssa reached into the cauldron. Gently, she brushed one fingertip against the now not-freezing metal. When no awful voice crept through her thoughts, she scooped it into her palm and waited for the curse to trigger.

But the only voice in Nyssa’s head was her own, and when the first candle on the enchanted candelabra lit up, its bright flame was almost as fierce as the pride burning through her.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Another letter arrived the morning after Nyssa had completed her first trial.

She sat at her kitchen table, tea cooling, and broke her coven’s wax seal with steady fingers, even though her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest. There was no way they’d send details of the next trial so soon, and congratulations wasn’t in Edith’s vocabulary. Which could only mean the letter was bad news.

The thought was enough for her inner voice to pipe up even without the help of a cursed ring. Perhaps they’ve decided you failed, after all, it mocked.

But no. When Nyssa had checked the candelabra before coming down that morning after waking with that very same fear, she’d found the first candle still burning bright. If the coven had decided to fail her, then surely that wouldn’t be the case?

Nyx bumped her head against the envelope with a short, curt meow that seemed to say: You’ll never know if you don’t open it.

Nyssa let out a small sigh. ‘You’re right. Here goes nothing.’

The moment Nyssa pulled out the letter and saw Noah’s signature at the bottom, she wished she’d left it in the envelope.

There had been no time to talk with the young warlock before she’d left the covenstead back in London, and she’d been too afraid to write back to Edith and ask about his wellbeing.

Nyssa was expecting the letter to be short and brutal; she deserved it, after what she’d put the poor warlock through. What she did not expect was for the letter to offer her the one thing she’d been craving more than she realized.

Dearest Mage Hawthorne,

I hope you are keeping well, and that you do not mind my writing to you. I overheard that you were in Nighthaven and so I thought this the best way to reach you given technology doesn’t work within the island’s bounds.

Firstly, I want you to know I am fully recovered. Secondly, that I do not blame you for what occurred. We all make mistakes, and you were so patient and forgiving of the (many) mistakes I made when I first joined the coven. Please, do not worry yourself over it. If you wish to make it up to me, you can do so by passing your trials and returning to the covenstead.

Blessed Be,

Mage Noah Sampson

Nyssa reread the letter thrice over before she realized she’d started crying. Large, fat tears spilled on to the parchment and blurred the ink, and Nyssa had to lean back in her chair and take a number of deep, shaky breaths to stop the sobs building in her chest.

She didn’t deserve Noah’s forgiveness – not yet – but if his letter had made Nyssa certain of one thing, it was that she would do everything in her power to earn it.

The next two weeks passed by in a haze of tea-scented air and the comforting companionship of Nighthaven’s small community. Nyssa hadn’t told anyone about completing the first trial, but she was sure that both Liora and Elowen had noticed how much more confident she had become with small spell work over the last few weeks.

Her café had gotten so busy that Nyssa barely had to worry about the fact that details of her next trial should be arriving soon. In fact, as the days went on, a part of her began to feel almost … excited at the prospect of proving herself once again. So when she awoke one chilly morning in late October, a few days before Samhain, to find a letter from Edith on her kitchen table, her heart filled not with the creeping sense of foreboding she’d imagined, but with a small flicker of hope. After she’d finished brewing herself a cup of sweet tea, she sat down to open the letter, steeling herself for whatever trial would be next.

But as she read, the flicker of hope was rapidly snuffed out.

Mage Hawthorne,

I am writing to confirm that we have taken note of your completion of the first trial.

Moreover, I must inform you that, due to unforeseen circumstances, the details of your second trial will be delayed. I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause, though I would advise you to use this additional time to reflect on your performance and how you might improve upon this for your second trial. I am equally certain that you will be grateful to have more time to prepare.

Blessed be,