Page 69 of Magic and Matrimony

“I’m sorry we didn’t know about your hex, Piper.”

I turn and look at one of my oldest friends, shaking my head. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. I had no way of telling anyone what my father had done. You helped me get away from my uncle many times, and I’m grateful for that.”

She drags her hand through her dark hair, knocking her hood off. “We should’ve known something was wrong. How many times did you do something that your uncle asked that wethought was insane. And the way it seemed like it pained you to obey. Because it did. We were all so clueless. It’s embarrassing.”

I lay a hand on Josephine’s. “You were in your own bad situation.” I squeeze her fingers, and she smiles. I’m sure it still feels strange touching people without feeling pain. “I don’t blame you. Not at all.” That’s the truth. None of my friends have had an easy life. They’ve all had their fair share of troubles.

“And now you’re married to Ambrose.” Josephine chuckles.

I smile, but it falls away as I turn my attention back to the stove. “Once this hex is broken, we can get a divorce.”

“Is that what you want?” Josephine asks. “It seems like you guys really enjoy each other’s company.” Her tone is sly.

I groan and glare at her over my shoulder. “What did Roman tell you?”

Josephine laughs. “He may have mentioned something that happened at Heathens the other night.”

“Oh my God.” I drop my head and wish there was a hole I could crawl into.

“Hey, you totally walked in on me and Roman in my parents’ library. It’s only fair.” Josephine laughs.

The first night Josephine and Roman met was at the founders’ party at her parents’ house. They discovered they could touch each other in a way they couldn’t with anyone else. I walked in on the two of them and got a flash of Josephine’s boobs.

Josephine's grin is bright and cheery. The kitchen is warm, and it feels like home. I don’t want to get a divorce, but that’s what I promised Ambrose. I can’t just expect that we’ll stay married forever because being with him is nice.

“Be quiet now, or you’re going to have to leave,” I throw over my shoulder. “I need to concentrate so I don’t mess this up and give Ambrose a third eyeball or something.”

Josephine sinks back into a chair with a hum. “Okay, I’ll be quiet.”

I throw all the ingredients into a cast-iron pot. The aroma from the herbs and spices immediately fills the room. Last to go into the mix is the tongue. The spell said it only required a sliver of the tongue. I shudder as I remove it from the plastic baggie. It’s dried and resembles a brittle rock. With a sharp knife, I shave off the smallest piece possible and toss it in with the rest of the ingredients.

I chant over the mixture as I stir, letting my magic well up deep in my chest. It flows through my fingers and down into the pot. The concoction bubbles up into my face, steam curling the wisps of my hair and bringing a flush to my cheeks. I stir the potion, murmuring words of intention. There’s no actual spell that needs to be chanted to infuse this mixture with more power, but I’m putting every extra bit of magic I can into this. I want this damn hex to break.

“It’s done.”

“That’s it?” Josephine asks, sounding surprised. She’d gotten herself a drink at some point, telling me that more time has passed than I realized while I was working my magic.

“That’s it.” I fill a small cup with the steaming mixture and take a deep breath as I carry it out to the living room. Ambrose is sitting in his favorite ornate chair with one leg thrown over the arm. Stellan and Odie are playing a game of pool. Ava, Bram, and Roman are lounging on the couches that face each other in front of the fireplace. They’re laughing at something Ambrose said.

Ambrose’s head snaps around when I walk into the room, and his eyebrows lift in question.

“It’s ready.” I hand him the cup. “It’s hot,” I warn.

“Probably best to scald my taste buds off anyway.” Ambrose takes a deep breath and throws the entire glass back in onegulp. He gasps and sticks his tongue out, waving his hand to fan himself. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

“I told you.” I hand him a glass of juice that I’ve brought out as a chaser. He gulps it down and wipes his hand over his mouth.

“But could you taste the tongue?” Ava asks.

Ambrose glares at her, but the others laugh.

Ambrose drags a hand through his messy hair, making it jut out in every direction. The exertion at the cemetery has made it curlier than usual. “How long before the effects kick in?”

“It should be right away.” I twist my hands together. I know I brewed it properly. I’m an excellent potion maker. As someone who rarely finds the worth in themselves, that’s a fact that I know to be true. Still, worry about how this will affect Ambrose swims in my gut.

“I’ll give it a try.” Bram leans back, steepling his fingers like a conniving genius. “Tell me, in the eleventh grade when Greta Franklin showed up at my house in the middle of the night, is it because you told her I had a crush on her?”

Ambrose grimaces and spits out the word “yes” through gritted teeth. “I thought you were going to make me do somersaults or flash my ass. Not do a Q&A.”

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