Jinxed (Coven Corner #1)

by Charlotte French

  And that’s when she saw him.

  Aiden Hall.

  This time, he definitely noticed her, too. He stood stock still at the sight of Sky. Then his gaze slid away from her and he ducked his head.

  He stood on the other side of the clearing in a dark blue coat with the collar turned up against the chill of the night. His hands were tucked in his pockets and there was a double line of brass buttons on his coat that marched down his chest.

  Despite herself, Sky’s heart stuttered. He looked good. Really good. As always.

  But he wore no coven robe. Then what was he doing here? Unless…

  Sky went cold all over.

  Unless Aiden was informing the coven what Sky had done to him with that love spell.

  Movement on Sky’s right made her turn to see Hazel approach. Her black robes whispered over the grass as she walked, giving her the appearance of floating. Her hands were tucked into the wide bell-shaped sleeves and her hair was loose around her face.

  Before Sky could say a single word, Hazel was already speaking.

  “I had no idea he would be here,” she said.

  Sky forced herself to not look at Aiden. It was so easy for her gaze to wander over to him, to take in the sight of him—the set of his shoulders, the angle of his jawline, the line of his mouth that she had kissed—warm and tasting of new beginnings and fresh harvests.

  “Do you know what the surprise meeting is about?” Sky said.

  Hazel shook her head. “Mother Hestia requested it. She didn’t say anything more than that.”

  Sky fidgeted with the sleeve of her robe. “It could be about me,” she said. “About what I did with…that spell.”

  Hazel glanced sideways at her. She reached over and touched Sky’s elbow with two fingers.

  “There was no harm done with that spell,” Hazel said. “The worst you would receive is a warning. Certainly not exiled from Wildemoor.”

  Exile.

  Sky took in a shuddering breath at that word. It sounded so frigid and unforgiving, like the impending creep of winter. Barren. Frosted to blank whiteness.

  A murmur rippled through the clearing. Sky tilted her head back to see three witches clustered together in the air, broomsticks huddled in tight formation.

  “It’s Mother Hestia,” Hazel said. She clapped her hands to get the attention of the coven. “Gather the Circle,” she called.

  Witches and warlocks shuffled closer, surrounding the base of the oak. Heat from the fire blushed Sky’s cheeks in autumn apple red and made sweat slick her spine.

  Or that could have been the worry that she would be removed from Wildemoor because of abusing her magic.

  Mother Hestia brought her broom to the ground with a whisper of wind that rustled the dry grasses. She was a small, wizened old woman, stooped in the shoulders with white wispy hair that framed her face in a pale halo against her dark brown skin.

  On her right was Bryony, her great-great-granddaughter. And on her left was…

  “Bianca?” Sky said, bewildered.

  Despite showing an interest in the Silver Circle Coven, Bianca had not been inducted into the group. As far as Sky knew, she hadn’t been promised an induction either. But then, why else would she be here? Unless she was siding with Aiden, asked to provide her testimony against Sky’s misuse of magic.

  Sky felt sick. Her stomach roiled and her knees turned to jelly, threatening to give out beneath her.

  Hazel took Sky’s hand, partly to join the circle as was the coven custom. But the tight squeeze she gave to Sky’s hand showed that she had the same suspicions as Sky did about the appearance of Bianca and Aiden.

  Bryony and Bianca guided Mother Hestia to the center of the circle and eased her to the ground. Mother Hestia sat cross-legged next to the fire, her back leaning against the trunk of the massive old oak. She closed her eyes as Bryony closed the final gap in the circle, completing the ring.

  Bianca stepped to the outskirts of the circle to stand beside Aiden. She leaned close and Aiden angled his head towards her as Bianca whispered something in his ear. Then she slipped her arm through the crook of his elbow, her chin on his shoulder.

  Sky had been in that position once. She had loved it, too. How warm and safe Aiden made her feel. How comfortable and easy it was to walk side by side, arm in arm.

  Mother Hestia took a deep breath and released it as she slowly opened her eyes and surveyed the circle that surrounded her. Then her gaze fell on Sky and stopped. She didn’t look at anyone else.

  “Let’s start with some tea,” Mother Hestia said in a quiet voice.

  Quickly, Sky produced the teapot from beneath her robes. Mother Hestia held out her own cup—a delicate china teacup, painted with white and pink roses—and waited as Sky poured her tea.

  Sky proceeded around the circle, filling the cup that belonged to each witch and warlock until she returned to her position. She filled her cup with the last of the tea and rejoined the circle to complete it once again.

  Bianca and Aiden’s presence burned off to her left. It felt wrong to leave them out. But sharing a cup of tea was the ritual that started every coven meeting, to create an air of peace and belonging. Bianca and Aiden weren’t part of the coven. She wasn’t intentionally overlooking them.

  Silence descended on the coven as witches and warlocks sipped at their tea, fingers wrapped around mugs and teacups, seeking out the comfort and familiarity that the tea provided.

  Sky’s fingers trembled when she brought her own cup to her lips—a plain blue and white cup with lines of autumn gold around the rim and curved over the handle. It had been the teacup she had been initiated with and the same teacup she used when she did private readings for herself.

  The burden of what she’d done weighed on her shoulders. Coupled with the certainty that she was about to be found out in front of the entire coven, it made her chest squeeze tight and her lungs clamped shut, nearly impossible to breathe.

  She should confess. Now. Before Aiden and Bianca could point fingers at her. Before Mother Hestia could put her through the rigorous interrogation process with dozens of pointed, needle-sharp questions that made the blood of her transgressions seep into the open air for everyone to scrutinize.

  Sky took a breath to speak.

  But Mother Hestia beat her to it.

  “As you all know,” she said. “The Yule season will mark my ninety-eighth year of life. Most of that time has been spent in the Silver Circle, among strong, intelligent, compassionate witches and warlocks like yourselves.”

  A mumble of appreciation and gratitude drifted around the circle. Sky said nothing. She didn’t deserve that kind of praise.

  Mother Hestia set aside her teacup and warmed her hands in front of the fire at the base of the oak tree.

  “But it’s time that I resign as High Priestess,” she said. “I would like to spend the time I have left with my grandchildren and leave the politics to younger people who have the energy for it. So I am passing my duties on to another.”

  A pause descended where no one spoke, no one dared to breathe. Then Mother Hestia extended her hand towards Hazel.

  “I name Hazel Aven as the next High Priestess,” she said.

  Hazel’s eyes flickered wide open for a fraction of a second before her face smoothed into a placid, neutral expression of poise once again. She pulled away from Sky and took Mother Hestia’s hand, head bowed, a small, pleased smile on her face. It was an honor to be the High Priestess and a responsibility that belonged only to a level-headed, diplomatic, and firm user of magic.

  Hazel knelt on the grass and Mother Hestia clasped Hazel’s face in her hands. She kissed Hazel’s forehead and patted her on the shoulder.

  “Come sit beside me,” Mother Hestia said.

  Hazel settled on the ground on the other side of the fire. Mother Hestia, the old priestess on the right of the oak. Hazel, the new priestess, to the left of the oak. The magical fire that never smoked, scorched, or burned, flickered between the
m.

  “As tradition states,” Mother Hestia said, addressing the coven at large once again. “The Circle must be maintained with thirteen members. The new witch or warlock must provide balance to the Circle. Every member here is selected with careful consideration. You all have your strengths and weaknesses. In the end, we give each other the gift of harmony.”

  Mother Hestia nodded to Hazel.

  It has to be Bianca, Sky thought. It made sense that Bianca was the new initiate. She was an elegant, controlled witch. And in due time, she would make a formidable High Priestess one day when Hazel relinquished the position.

  That’s why Aiden was here. To provide witness to the ceremony. And to support the woman he loved.

  Hazel twirled her fingers above the fire and spoke one bold command. Out of the flames, a sheet of darkness rippled into the sky. It drifted down into Mother Hestia’s lap and she picked it up, shook it out with an echoing snap.

  The initiate’s new coven robe.

  “For our thirteenth position,” she said. “I name a weather warlock.”

  Warlock.

  Not a witch. Not Bianca.

  “Please make welcome Aiden Hall to the Silver Circle,” Mother Hestia said.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  There was a roaring in Sky’s ears, like a scream or a hammer pounding at her head. Could this really be happening? She would have to see Aiden at every meeting, every holiday celebration now.

  “Are there any objections to this new initiate joining our Circle?” Mother Hestia asked.

  I object, Sky wanted to say.

  But if she did that, she would have to explain what she’d done. If Hazel—now the new High Priestess—deemed the accidental love spell harmless, then Sky’s confession wouldn’t have her removed from Wildemoor or even the coven. But how many times would she be forced to relive that one tiny, embarrassing mistake over and over again?

  When Mother Hestia’s request was met with silence, she nodded. Bryony broke the circle and came forward, helping Mother Hestia to her feet.

  “Then I place the rest of the ceremony in Hazel’s good hands,” she said.

  As she leaned on Bryony’s arm, she approached Aiden and hooked the robe over his head. It pooled over his shoulders like a sheet of ink, matching the color of his hair.

  “Welcome to the Silver Circle Coven, Aiden Hall,” Mother Hestia said. “May your magic bless those around you. And may your magic be blessed by others in return.”

  Aiden dipped his head. “Thank you, Mother.”

  She patted his cheek with a smile.

  “I knew I had chosen you for a good reason,” she said.

  Sky clenched her teeth. What did he think he was doing? Getting himself involved with the coven when he hadn’t even been living in Wildemoor for more than a few weeks? Bianca had lived in Wildemoor for years. She should have been the next initiate. Now he was worming his way into the good graces of the rest of the town only to toy with them the way he had toyed with Sky.

  But judging by the blindingly bright smile on Bianca’s face as she looked at Aiden, she didn’t seem at all upset that she had been passed over in favor of Aiden. She clasped Aiden’s hand and rested her chin on his shoulder for a moment before Mother Hestia pulled him away.

  “As Bianca Lovett has witnessed,” Mother Hestia said. “Our Circle remains whole at thirteen members. Aiden, do you have a cup with you?”

  Aiden pulled a cup from his pocket—a long, sleek black goblet inscribed with silver runes along the rim. Mother Hestia turned to Sky and gestured for her to come forward.

  Sky gripped the teapot so tightly that she was certain it would shatter in her hands. She didn’t want to pour the tea to finalize his position in the coven. She didn’t want Aiden to be part of the coven at all. She wanted him to leave. Leave the clearing. Leave Wildemoor. Just go.

  “Sky,” Mother Hestia said. It was clear from her tone that she had already tried to speak to Sky several times and get her attention but Sky hadn’t been listening. “Pour the tea, please.”

  Haltingly, Sky stepped forward until she stood directly in front of Aiden. He held out his cup, dark and gleaming. The scent of cloves and incense washed over her and Sky rocked back on her heels at the impact of that smell.

  Mother Hestia patted Aiden’s shoulder.

  “Maybe you can do something about these clouds that have been so threatening lately,” she said. “I think you’ll like it here, Aiden. We are proud and honored to have you join our family of magic.”

  Aiden smiled at her but it was tight-lipped and small—a mere pleasantry that he spared only out of politeness. Was he impatient to be joined with the coven? Was he annoyed with Mother Hestia and how long it was taking? Did he simply want the position of power that the coven provided?

  Mother Hestia retreated. She passed through the Circle to stand beside Bianca. Now, it was only Sky and Aiden standing face to face in the middle of the clearing. The oak’s branches rasped overhead, old wood creaking and groaning as the wind buffeted against it. Fog drifted through the trees at the outer edge of the clearing, rendering the shadows ghost-like and pale.

  Sky gritted her teeth. “What are you doing?”

  Aiden lowered his voice so only she could hear him. “I’m becoming part of the community.”

  “You’re taking advantage of these people.”

  “I’m carrying my fair share of the responsibility and looking after the citizens who have welcomed me so generously to their town.”

  Sky released a hissing breath. “You’re lying. Plenty of other witches and warlocks have been here long before you ever came along. And now you think you can just waltz in here and gain a position amid the coven?”

  Aiden dropped his gaze to his cup, his thumb tracing along the rim.

  “Mother Hestia asked me to come,” he said.

  Sky narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

  He gestured to the clouds overhead, blocking out the stars and a crescent moon. As if to punctuate his words, a gust of icy cold winter rushed against Sky’s back and sent her stumbling forward a step.

  Right into Aiden.

  Her shoulder hit his chest. Her mouth was an inch away from his throat. Her world exploded with the smell of cloves and incense.

  Aiden placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back gently to stand upright until she was on her feet again. Then he withdrew his hands. No lingering as he usually did before.

  “Do you think this is amusing?” Sky whispered. “Are you doing this for kicks? Is that why you’re here?”

  Her voice hitched on that last word. Amusing. The connotations it carried were heavy and thick on her tongue, cloying in her throat.

  Aiden raised his gaze to meet hers. There was no laughter, no teasing or joking. All she saw in his eyes was remorse. Regret. The same remorse and regret that must have been mirrored in Sky’s own eyes.

  A small, quiet little thought fluttered through Sky’s mind.

  We did it all wrong.

  If they had met under different circumstances rather than that clumsy love spell, could there have been a better ending for Sky and Aiden? Would Sky be greeting Aiden with a smile instead of a scowl when he offered his cup for initiation?

  “You have no reason to believe a word I say, I get that,” Aiden replied. “But…I’m not finding any humor in this, Sky. I promise.”

  Hazel cleared her throat, loudly. Sky’s head snapped to the side to look at her. Hazel raised an eyebrow and made a gesture with her hand as if to say, keep it moving.

  “I started this mess, Sky,” Aiden said.

  Sky’s attention darted away from Hazel and back to Aiden’s face. Standing this close to him, she could see the shadows of his eyelashes, soft and gray against his cheek. She could see the flash of silver from the pentacle at his throat.

  The tip of Aiden’s tongue traced his bottom lip, followed by the sharp white edge of his teeth. He dropped his gaze to the cup in his hand.

  “This weather over Wildemo
or,” he said. “It’s because of me. Because of what happened between us. I want so badly to make it right, Sky. You deserve that much. And it’s got me all tangled up in knots. I can’t think of anything else. Just you.”

  Sky blinked in shock. That wasn’t the confession she thought would happen tonight. And it wasn’t fair that her heart still betrayed her when Aiden said those last few words.

  I can’t think of anything else. Just you.

  She knew he didn’t mean them in that way. And she hated that her mind immediately jumped to that old desire she thought she had parted with weeks ago.

  The soft swish of footsteps in the grass signaled Hazel’s arrival.

  “Is there a problem?” she said. “Sky, are you proposing an objection to Aiden’s initiation?”

  Sky’s fingers tightened on the handle of the teapot.

  “No,” she said at last.

  And she poured the last of the tea into Aiden’s cup. Without taking his gaze from her, Aiden drained the cup in one gulp.

  A delicate rain began to mist through the golden leaves of the oak, sizzling in the magic flames of the fire. Sky turned her face up to look at Aiden.

  It hadn’t rained for weeks. Ever since Sky walked out on Aiden during the celebration. Ever since that kiss. The clouds had threatened, hanging over the Wildemoor in a gray gloom. But no rain. Until now.

  Sky raised her hand, palm up. Raindrops dripped down her fingers, sliding over her skin. Cleansing. Soothing.

  “If I didn’t know any better,” Sky said. “I’d say this looks like you’re trying to wash the slate clean.”

  Aiden shook his head. “No,” he said. “Just trying to ease the burn of old wounds.”

  Sky studied him for a moment.

  “If you’re so good at what you do,” she said. “A big-time warlock from New York City, I think you can do better than that.”

  It wasn’t a fresh start. But it never would be. They had both made mistakes and those mistakes had affected them, as well as everyone around them.

  But it was an olive branch. A peace offering. An apology. They didn’t have to avoid each other. They didn’t have to hate each other for what happened.