PART TWO

  The

  Fire Witch

  of Greatwen

  The palace was the center of Greatwen, both literally and figuratively, setting it about as far from the east end of the Merchants District and Ms. Scaggs’ townhouse as you could get. While normally they, Liv and Ms. Scaggs, might have taken the long walk, there was no way they could have kept their formal wear anything close to dung-free on the streets, so Liv spent the journey gazing out the window of a carriage.

  She sighed as they passed the park. Winter had come, and the bare trees sticking up from the ground reminded her of skeletal fingers, bleak and lifeless.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Ms. Scaggs.

  “Nothing...” Liv hesitated. “It’s just every time I put on a dress, I’m afraid people will figure me out.”

  Scaggs gave a soft chuckle. “And what is there to figure out? Right now, you’re as much a woman as I am.”

  “I know, I know. But try telling that to my nerves.”

  “If it helps, every time someone announces the ‘Fire Witch of Greatwen,’ I have to keep myself from looking around for her. I guess it’s not the same though.”

  “Not exactly.” Liv shook her head. “But similar, I guess.” A thoughtful pause later, she added, “It is nice to be able to talk about.”

  “For me too.”

  The pair went silent as they crossed the long bridge over the River Tembus. Liv stuck her head out to gaze down at its murky waters, and pulled back inside once the smell hit, which was, quizzically, much worse than it had been a few miles downstream.

  Passing the Council Clock Tower, Liv pointed to a row of boxy buildings. “What are those?”

  “Government offices, guild halls, embassies maybe?” Scaggs shrugged. “Honestly, there isn’t much to do around here except file paperwork and go to parties, and not the fun kind.”

  A few blocks later, the carriage stopped at an iron gate, and a guard in a red and white uniform approached. Scaggs had given her satchel to Liv since it interfered with her long dress, but now she motioned for it, and Liv retrieved the summons.

  The guard glanced at it, uninterested, then handed it back and ushered them through to the palace cul-de-sac. Nearly twice as wide as a city street, at its end sat a row of carriages with drivers waiting.

  “The palace doubles as a sort of city hall for the nobility. They can come and go as they please, though wizards and the gentry need to request invitations.” Scaggs paused for a second. “I haven’t been back here since I was admitted to the guild, almost four years ago.”

  Liv spotted a large group of people, women in long bustled dresses with corseted waists and men in colorful tailcoats and top hats. “Who are they?”

  “I really have no idea.”

  When the carriage stopped, the driver helped Ms. Scaggs down, but Liv hopped out, twisting to avoid the man as he moved to catch her.

  “Boy…” Scaggs muttered under her breath, and Liv looked away innocently.

  Although the pair were nicely dressed, they were nothing compared to the people waiting, and a valet came by to usher the others in while conspicuously ignoring Liv and Ms. Scaggs.

  Eventually the entry cleared, and Scaggs approached the valet.

  “You’re not here for the party… are you?” the man said, looking down his nose at them.

  Scaggs coughed politely, and Liv dug around in the satchel, then handed the summons to the man.

  As he examined it, his eyes widened. “Oh, the fire witch—I see. The king is in chambers with the others. Follow me.”

  They passed a great foyer where all the ‘fancy’ guests were waiting. A few low whispers could be heard, but most of them were standing silently. Oddly reminiscent, Liv thought, of people lined up to take the Verses in church.

  The valet walked them down a long hall, approaching a room at the end with a great golden throne. But he stopped in front of a side chamber. Next to it, waiting on a bench, sat two people: a woman and a man. Scaggs flinched.

  The woman, a tall blonde in gold and red robes, was giving Scaggs such a hard stare that the veins on her forehead looked like a cheese grater. Liv recognized her from the auction. It was Josephine. The man sitting next to her wasn’t paying attention. He was too busy adjusting the cuffs of an old naval uniform, fidgeting uncomfortably. When he looked up, it was Messer—

  Liv’s chest almost ruptured in a single heartbeat. But Messer only glanced at her, embarrassed, like he must have done something wrong. He checked over his shoulder to see if there was someone behind him, no, just a wall, and then he turned back and gave Liv a very hard looking over.

  His left eye twitched as his features pulled tight, showing the same disdain they’d had when he caught Oliver in the dress.

  “Okay, go on in.” The valet motioned them to enter as a guard opened the door from the inside.

  Unnerved and desperate to get away from Messer as quickly as possible, Liv nudged Scaggs out of the way—only to be nudged back by an equally unnerved Ms. Scaggs. Liv tried to give an apologetic shrug, but the wizardess kept glancing over her shoulder until the guard closed the door.

  Inside, four men were seated on one side of a table: two older, one way older, and one not-so-old. Liv recognized the not-so-old man, Marco. Then her gaze jumped to a shadowy corner, where Ulbrecht stood watch, holding his massive sword.

  Ms. Scaggs bowed deeply, practically kneeling, and coughed until Liv followed suit. She did so suddenly realizing that whatever business the king had with Messer, it would be wise to make a good impression before he had the chance to do likewise.

  “Your Majesty,” Scaggs addressed the way-older man. Bald with a barrel-chest, he was leaning back in his chair.

  “Save your spine. This is not the throne room. Here you honor me with results, not…” he flourished his hand, “petty gestures.”

  “Drake.” The king nodded to a lithe man wearing a black robe emblazoned with copper, mathematical designs, a wizard by the looks of him. “Introductions.”

  “Yes, Sire,” said Drake, before addressing Scaggs. “You are in the presence of King Edward, the—”

  “—Make it quick,” the king growled.

  “And his sons, George, heir to the throne.” Drake motioned to a tall man with a beard, his clothing styled after a military uniform, who nodded.

  “And Marco, Steward of Greatwen.” To which, Marco shrugged a half-hearted smile.

  “And this is Eliza Scaggs—”

  “Finally, the fire witch herself?” Prince George sounded equal parts eager and annoyed.

  “Yes, well,” Drake said, looking at Scaggs, “it must come as a surprise who our little project is for. We have many questions.”

  “Chiefly, when will it be ready?” asked the king.

  “Sire.” Scaggs looked around in a panic. “I’m not working on the flame bloom anymore.”

  The old king narrowed his eyes. “Why the Hells not? You’ve seen this?” He lifted a copy of the newspaper and smacked it twice with the back of his hand. “We need to respond to this before this gets worse.”

  “Respond to whom? We don’t even know who is responsible,” said Marco.

  “That doesn’t matter,” said the king. “All that matters is that they know they can’t get away with it.”

  “You can’t just start bombing people indiscriminately.”

  “They did!” The king raised a fist.

  “I am sure,” Prince George said dryly, “we can come up with a target that is both visible and deserving. But first…” he nodded to Liv. “Who is she?”

  “My apprentice, Liv—Olivia.” As soon as Scaggs uttered the words, all of Liv’s attention turned to Marco. Did he know who she was? Would he say anything? He was the one person here who might help with that monster of a stepfather waiting outside, but if he recognized her, he wasn’t showing it. In fact, save for when he was talking, he looked fatigued, like he was struggling to stay awake.

  Drake cut in, “I knew Scaggs had been hiding an apprentice, and I wanted to meet… her.” He gave Liv a pleasant nod. “So demanding she be registered seemed an unavoidable way to make that happen.”

  “She can wait out in the hall,” said the king. “You can meet her when you take her to the registrar, later.”

  “Hope you brought a book.” Drake winked.

  Liv’s stomach fluttered. Messer was out in that hall. Messer who Scaggs had never met; there was no way she recognized the danger.

  But then, to Liv’s surprise, Scaggs clutched her arm, pulling her in like she needed protecting. “Is it safe?”

  The king cocked his head. “I only asked her to wait in a hall, not charge a battlement. If there’s any trouble, just yell and the guards will come running.” He looked at Liv. “You do know how to yell ‘help,’ don’t you?”

  Liv nodded to the king, who passed the nod onto Ulbrecht. The giant motioned to the door, rattling the heavy chain connected to his sword’s pommel as he took a step forward. Liv backed through, and a guard closed it while Scaggs looked on with worried eyes.

  Messer and Josephine were still parked on the bench, whispering to each other, when they caught sight of Liv.

  He can’t do anything, not here, can he? Liv thought, and then, turning away, pretended to study a painting on the wall.

  Josephine muttered something to Messer, but Liv couldn’t hear his reply and glanced over her shoulder to meet his angry, glaring eyes.

  What if… I just ignore him?

  Liv turned her attention to a very deliberate, very convenient, study of the throne room, still separated from it by an iron gate. The floor was bright stone with a red carpet, and the throne itself, ornately carved rosewood, was trimmed in gold and studded with rubies—

  Messer grunted. Liv flinched. He went to stand up, but Josephine pulled him back down, and the two began whispering in earnest.

  Liv turned her attention to a painting, pretending very hard not to have seen him.

  And then he coughed, conspicuously, and Liv skittered down the hall in the opposite direction, half running, half pretending to admire the paintings on the wall.

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  Music and laughter came from a few doors away: the party. She glanced back to see her stepfather approaching fast.

  “And just what are you supposed to be?” a girl’s voice asked from behind.

  Liv spun around to see a smiling dark-haired girl, perhaps a year older and an inch taller than herself, wearing a silver gown with a ridiculously oversized bustle.

  Was she in trouble? But the pleasant way this girl was looking at her, maybe she just wanted to talk. “I’m an… an Olivia.”

  “Oh, good answer. I’m a Rina.” The girl curtsied with a flourish.

  “Sorry, I don’t really know how to do that.” And as Liv glanced over her shoulder, Messer stopped dead in his tracks.

  “Even better.” The girl smirked. “I’ve decided I don’t really like parties. That’s why I’m out here. What about you?”

  “Umm… I wasn’t invited. I’m not here for that… they, the ahh… king, told me to wait out here… for a while.”

  “How long a while?” the girl asked.

  “Apparently, I should have brought a book.” As Liv glanced back, Messer began approaching, his hands curling into fists.

  “Then he won’t mind if I borrow you.” The girl grabbed Liv’s hand and pulled her through the door into the largest room she’d ever been in in her entire life, not excluding Scaggs’ blast chamber and church.

  It was a great hall, not a hallway, white and gold with red carpet, tapestries, and two long tables stretching along either side. String music flowed through the air as snow gently fell outside two glass doors on the far wall.

  Hundreds of people stood in attendance, ladies and their men to be sure, but also a surprising number of children. Waiters rushed to serve people at the tables, but plenty of guests were standing, so the waiters circulated with platters too.

  The girl, Rina, released Liv’s hand. “I know, pretty dull, right?”

  She had to get away, to hide, before Messer stomped in after her. Maybe she could get out through the kitchen? But then looking back, she saw the guards, halberds crossed, one with a hand on Messer’s chest.

  “Olivia? Olivia? What’s wrong?” Rina asked.

  Messer’s face turned bright red as the guard pushed him back through the door.

  “Nothing,” Liv blurted out, “I like parties, just never been to one so big before. Seems like fun. Let’s do this.”

  “Oh, all right, I guess these things are kind of amusing the first time. Do you want cake? I see you eyeing cake.”

  Liv was wondering what the girl meant when she noticed a table of desserts near the entrance, where Messer had been ejected.

  Rina waved a waiter over, and he held out a tray of cupcakes, displaying them to Liv. Maybe it was just that Messer was gone, but suddenly, they did look appetizing…

  There were almost too many choices, soft pinks, teal greens, cakes decorated like roses, like bows and jewelry. Rina stood by, patiently giggling as Liv made her decision.

  She settled on a mint green cupcake topped like a bird’s nest, complete with three open-mouthed chicks, all in white frosting. Teetering between nervousness and elation, Liv stuffed the entire thing into her mouth and chewed.

  Smirking, Rina grabbed Liv’s hand and pulled her over to an old, white-haired gentleman.

  “Viscount, this is Lady Olive-andrina, heiress to many cats,” Rina mocked an introduction. “Lady Olive-andrina, this is Viscount Von Sour-puss of Sour-puss-shire.”

  The man sighed at Rina and grumbled, “So nice to meet you, lady Olive—drina.”

  Giggling in spurts, Rina dragged Liv around to more and more guests and repeated the process, introducing her as “Queen Snee,” and “Lady Von Sneezington.”

  By the end of it, Liv’s mind was almost off her stepfather… almost.

  “Ah, Rina,” Liv asked, “has anyone ever told you, you’re a little weird?”

  “Not to my face.” She winked. “Messing with people is about the only fun I can get away with, but alright alright, we can stop with the introductions. Honestly, I’m a little annoyed...”

  “About what?”

  “It’s just that there was supposed to be this great wizard here, but all we got was him.” Rina pointed her thumb back to a pudgy man in an ill-fitting robe doing card tricks at one of the tables. “I know this is just a ‘kids’ party, but still.”

  “A party for what, exactly?” Liv asked.

  “Oh, some birthday or other…” said Rina.

  “Yours by chance?”

  “Maybe…” Rina gave a sly smile.

  “And who are you?”

  “No no, you’re the party crasher. Who are you?”

  “Fine… watch the ‘wizard,’” said Liv.

  “Okay…”

  Liv reached out with her spark and extinguished one of the candles sitting on the table next to the man.

  “What am I watching for?” asked Rina.

  “Keep looking.”

  A waiter came by and relit the candle. A second after he left, she snuffed it out again.

  “Was that…?” Rina leaned forward.

  The waiter came back, but before he could relight it, the candle sprang to life.

  Rina glanced to Liv, then back to the candle as it, and the two on either side, went out, then reignited in sequence, left to right, before flickering on and off three times together.

  There was a small commotion near the ‘wizard,’ and after the candles stayed lit for a moment, he flourished his hands and took a sitting bow. The perplexed look on his face disappeared once the people around him gave a polite round of applause.

  “Now, I think you owe me an introduction,” said Liv.

  “I’m… Alexandrina. Prince George is my father.”

  Liv tensed up. “You—You’re royalty?”

  “Yes, but not the fun kind. Who else would have a birthday at the palace? And you are?”

  “I already told you. I’m Olivia. Well, Liv for short. I came with Ms. Scaggs.”

  “The fire witch?”

  “She prefers ‘wizardess.’”

  “Get out.” Rina punched Liv’s shoulder playfully. “So, what else can you do?”

  “Just light candles. Well, that and clean.”

  “How many can you do, at once?” Rina asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never tried.”

  “Could you do all the candles on the entire table?”

  “Maybe?” said Liv.

  “Would you try? It is my birthday.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Come on, I got you cake…” Rina batted her eyes before grumbling, “Next year I’ll probably be married off to Lord Sneezington, so please consider this a final request from the condemned.”

  “Fine.” Liv held up her hand, feeling for the candles, trying to connect all of them with her spark.

  “I’m wait—”

  —Lightning shrieked across the table. All the candles exploded simultaneously—

  “Best birthday ever!”

  ? ? ?

  Liv was in the hallway again, relieved that Messer and Inquisitor Josephine were gone, but now two pairs of guards stood outside each door that led back to the party with strict orders not to let her pass.

  As the triple beat of two feet and a wooden crutch approached, Marco appeared from around the corner. “I’d advise staying away from Alexandrina in the future. She is more dangerous than she—”

  He staggered, falling forward, and Liv jumped, catching his arm at the last moment. He still went down, though slowly enough not to cause any harm.

  “Help me, will you?” he said, nodding to a bench.

  His legs shaking as Liv steadied him, she helped him lie down.

  “Just a moment… while my nerves sort themselves out.”

  “Will you be all right?” she asked. The way he was addressing her, did he know who she really was? After all, he’d given Oliver the book.

  “Well, my career as a ballroom dance instructor will never be the same,” he said through chattering teeth. “But I’ll live.”

  “What happened?”

  “Oh this, I thought everyone knew. I caught a fever a few years ago, and ever since life has never been so much fun. But really, I can’t complain. I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m really okay, most of the time. If you want to help, tell me about Scaggs.”

  Liv bit her lip.

  “Look, did she make that firebomb or not? I’m just trying to save lives.”

  “Flame bloom. The one in the harbor, yes. But that was a test sample she gave to the guild, and they lost it. We don’t know who or what burned the embassy.”

  “Lovely… deathmonger,” Marco spat under his breath.

  Liv steeled herself before speaking, “Well, you’re the ones who asked for it. And your guards have swords. How is that any different?

  Exhaling, Marco paused to think. “That is a fair observation. It’s a matter of degree, isn’t it? Yes, we have swords, our neighbors all have swords, and we all lived peacefully for a long while. Then we got guns, and they all had to get guns. And now that the wizards have started making spark weapons anyone can use, I see this all getting out of hand rather fast.”

  “That’s why she stopped making weapons. She’s trying to help.”

  “Who?”

  “Ms. Scaggs.”

  Marco blinked. “Is that why she’s being so evasive about her results?”

  “She’s not going to hand over any bombs, not unless they actually need them.”

  “Sounds like she’s trying to thread a needle with a rope. Look, they’re demanding to see you. I’m to send you back, but something seems off. What’s going on?”

  “That man, Messer, is my stepfather.” Liv pulled her hair back, exposing the scar. “He did this.”

  “Song Mother…” Marco croaked as his body began to tremble. His neck convulsed and his teeth clenched, but he fought through it, saying, “Stall. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  A pair of guards approached. One stopped to help Marco while the other escorted Liv back to the king’s chamber.

  ? ? ?

  As the door opened, raised voices flooded out.

  “They simply do not work,” said Scaggs.

  A guard, standing inside, motioned Liv through.

  “I don’t buy it,” said the king. “One blew up that ship, did it not?”

  “Drake said there were two bombs on board. Maybe the other went off?”

  Shrinking under the king’s stare, Drake admitted, “Possible, but hard to believe.”

  Prince George looped his finger through the air. “Let’s circle around to that in a moment.” He pointed at Liv. “You there, girl, answer the inquisitor’s questions.”

  Scaggs mouthed ‘no’ while the rest of the room sat down, the king with his arms crossed.

  Josephine stepped forward. “What happened to Oliver Grey?”

  Liv pulled her lips shut. She didn’t think feigning complete ignorance would work, but she couldn’t say anything provably wrong either.

  All eyes on her, she had to speak. “Last I heard he was fine?”

  Messer scanned the room, gauging the reaction of the others. Slowly, he opened his mouth like he might say something.

  So, before he could, Liv blurted out, “Why, what happened? Is he okay?”

  Eyes narrowing, Josephine’s mouth crept into a smile. “The last I saw him, he was at Tiamore’s, working for ‘Ms.’ Scaggs… And when did you start working for her?”

  Still seeing a glimmer of desperate hope on Ms. Scaggs’ face, Liv knew this was a trap, but she hadn’t fallen in, not yet.

  “I’m really bad with dates, just in the last year.”

  Josephine raised an eyebrow, as did the rest of the room. “Could you be a little more specific?”

  ‘Specific’ sounded like the trap. “Sometime this summer.” She gulped. A weak answer was less dangerous than a wrong one.

  “Was Oliver still there when you arrived?”

  The inquisitor was doing her job, trying to get her to admit something. Either that Oliver wasn’t there anymore, or that she was Oliver. Liv glanced at Scaggs hoping for some tip-off, some secret code, but none was evident.

  Messer had once told her, err him… well Oliver, that cops only ask questions they already know the answers to, so don’t you dare answer them. She imagined that went doubly so for the Inquisition.

  “I heard from him last week,” she said, “He sent me a letter. Said he was fine and asked if I could translate some text for him.”

  “Do you still have this letter?”

  “No, I wrote the translations on it and sent it back.” That was almost too easy. Liv celebrated with the slightest sigh of relief.

  Josephine forced eye contact. “Are you Oliver Grey?”

  “What?” Liv’s voice cracked.

  The king perked up. “What?”

  Josephine cleared her throat. “Scaggs bullied Oliver into this as a means of kidnapping him from his father, Baron Grey. You cannot let this attack on the nobility go unpunished.”

  “No…” Scaggs shook her head in shock.

  “She does look just like him,” Messer said in a rasp.

  Stepping up to the king, Josephine laid two papers in front of him. “These are sworn statements. The first, from one Mary Fleming, a seamstress. She witnessed severe bruising on the boy’s back. When she asked how it happened, he told her it was while he was working for Scaggs.”

  “I didn’t…” Scaggs gasped.

  “The second, signed both by Roger Smithe, a carriage driver, and John Cromwell, a banker. They saw Scaggs on an explosive tirade, dragging a bloody boy through the docks.”

  “Because his stepfather, that man,” Scaggs pointed at Messer, “threw him off a ship!”

  “A provable lie.” Josephine sat another paper before the king. “He was at sea, on the Church’s business that week, that entire week. Here is the charter.”

  “That’s the lie!” Scaggs jumped out of her chair.

  “Eliza Scaggs, the infamous ‘fire witch,’ has been extorting money from the citizens of Greatwen for far too long. She’s been running a racket with a vampire for years.”

  “A vampire?” the king scoffed.

  “Or so her victims believe,” Josephine said with a smirk.

  Coughing loudly, Liv tried to regain control of the proceedings. “No, I really am Olivia, Oliver’s sister. I might look a lot like him. But I’m not him.” …Or at least she wouldn’t be, not for a week.

  “Wait—” said the king, “How is Olivia not Messer’s daughter if Oliver is his son?”

  “Stepson,” Scaggs raised her voice, “He’s not the real father.”

  Chair scraping the floor as he shot out of it, Messer said, “When I married Oliver’s mother, I took him as my son. She didn’t say anything about Olivia, because there is no Olivia. That’s Oliver.” He pointed at Liv. “I’m sure of it. The boy always was… a bit touched, a bit of a… fairy. But he was getting better,” he made a fist at Scaggs, “until her.”

  Nodding in agreement, Josephine added, “She’s trying to con Baron Grey, to extort money from him, the same way she’s conning the Crown with ‘promises’ of a weapon.”

  Prince George turned to Drake. “How much have we given her so far?”

  “I-I don’t think she’s conning us…” the wizard stammered out.

  “How much?”

  “Eight hundred, thirty-seven sovereigns, nine florins, and five pence… give or take.”

  Prince George shot the king a sly glance. “How about this then? If she’s not conning us, nor Baron Grey, she should have no trouble producing the weapon…”

  “No…” Scaggs’ voice fell.

  “Don’t make deals with a witch,” Josephine spat.

  “—Wait, shouldn’t we be able to tell,” said Drake, glancing at Liv. “If that’s a boy or a girl? It’s not really that difficult.”

  Then the door opened, and the room went silent. Marco hobbled in as Rina propped him up under one arm. She scanned the grim faces staring back at her.

  “Did we miss something?” asked Marco.

  Rina sidled up to Liv. “I just came to give her this.” She held out an envelope, bright white with gold trim, but Liv was too shaken to take it.

  George slid his gaze to Scaggs. “Do we understand each other? Olivia will go with the inquisitor until this is settled.”

  “No…” Scaggs' voice fell to a whimper.

  “I don’t like that word, ‘No’. Guards, hold her.”

  “No…no—”

  One guard grabbed Scaggs’ hands as the other shoved a short iron bar, a club they carried for when the king demanded someone be beaten rather than killed, into her mouth.

  “What are you doing?!” Marco shouted, his whole body shaking.

  “Shut up, Marco,” George replied.

  And then all the spark lights in the room blinked out for an instant before dim red flames rose in their glass bulbs.

  A metallic groan came from the iron bar that was shoved in Scaggs’ mouth. As it glowed red with heat, the guard holding it jumped back, squealing. Embers of Scaggs’ dress fell from her body where they had held her, exposing smooth skin as the bar liquefied, dribbling molten metal down her chest.

  Scaggs spat sparks. “You!” A tendril of flame shot from her finger, stopping just short of the inquisitor. “Need to learn when to quit.”

  A shadow flitted across the room: Ulbrecht with his sword raised.

  “Don’t!” Scaggs clenched her fist, and a swirling blaze appeared over Rina’s head.

  She nodded to the king, “I die, she dies.” Then pointed to Olivia, “I lose sight of her, she dies.” Then to Josephine, “She speaks, she dies.”

  “You can’t—” George started.

  “—Careful…” the king interrupted, looking at Drake.

  The wizard shook his head. “They don’t call her the fire witch for nothing. I might be able to take her, but not safely. I’d do as she says.”

  Rage palpable in Ms. Scaggs’ voice, she said, “Anybody follows us, the city burns. You let us go, the princess here just takes a long walk home. And for the record…”

  She glared at the king, “You’re an old fool;” nodded to Prince George, “You’re a psychopath;” And scowled at Josephine, “and you, you’re just bat shit crazy. It’s been a pleasure. You all deserve each other.”

  Then motioning Liv out to the hallway, Scaggs pulled the princess along behind her. On their way, she was forceful with Rina, not letting her stop for a second. But she wasn't bullying her. She didn’t yank or shove.

  Once they neared the sounds of the party, the swirling mass of fire over Rina’s head dissipated. “I can still kill you in an instant, understand?”

  Rina looked to Liv in disbelief, and Liv nodded back, also in disbelief.

  They exited out the front, and Scaggs scanned the row of carriages. “What’s the cheapest one here? I don’t want to attract more attention.”

  Liv spotted a plain carriage in back. “There’s one.”

  When they reached it, she recognized the driver: Rafe.

  He looked Liv over, he saw the dress, he saw her. “Ollie?”

  “You know him?” Scaggs asked.

  “This is Rafe. Oliver’s brother,” said Liv.

  “The burglar? Good, then he knows the way to my house. Look, boy.” Scaggs raised her hand, and a ball of fire appeared in it. “You drive for me now. Understand?”

  As Rafe nodded, Scaggs made another gesture with her hands, and Liv recognized it as a delusion. Though of what, she had no idea.

  “Let’s go then.” Scaggs pulled the carriage door open, bowing wryly to the princess.

  "Fly Me to Tomorrow" a soaringly cute tale about queer love that I stumbled upon when checking out the new releases. It's got witches... and two girls in smitten with each other, very cute.

  cygneve (and her characters Annette and Nat) some love with a read and a kind word.

  https://discord.gg/fQtFt2sYdf