Page 24 of Enchanted Village

Silas, for his part, looked for a moment like he wanted to melt into the ground. But he recovered quickly, stepping forward and holding out his hand. Behind him, the witch who had followed him out of the shop scowled, then retreated with a “hmph!”

“Margaret,” Silas said, oblivious. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

His hand was warm and firm in Margaret’s, and, like the first time she had met him, she found herself entirely unable to speak. Perhaps it was the way his blue eyes latched onto hers, or maybe it was something about the slight redness that crept into his cheeks as he shook her hand. He was clearly embarrassed, even though the incident had been entirely her fault. And then there was the way she’d brushed him aside at the end, even when he’d offered to help her. Margaret winced at the memory.

“I wanted to apologize again,” he said. “Is . . . is the pub all right? And the dragon?”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Margaret said, feeling warmth creeping into her own cheeks the longer she looked at him, the longer he kept hold of her hand. “And both are fine. Bernie’s unscathed, and the pub . . . it will be soon enough.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You’re certain? Because again, I’d be happy to help.”

“No need,” Margaret said. “After all, I take full responsibility for Bernie’s actions. I know how territorial dragons can be, and she’s quite protective of me.”

“I can see why,” Silas said. She realized he was still holding her hand, which might’ve been a good thing, as she became vaguely aware that she was quite possibly tilting forward. This, Margaret realized, was what people meant when they called a man “charming.” Like there was magic in the corners of Silas’s lips that could somehow make her heart thud faster in her chest and could melt her at the knees. She somehow judged the witches last night a bit less harshly.

“Well, well.”

Elliott’s voice jolted Margaret, reminding her that she was not standing alone with Silas on the village cobblestones. She let go of Silas’s hand and pretended something in her pocket needed tending to, just to have something to do with herself so that she didn’t have to look at Elliott—Silas’s uncle, Margaret reminded herself—and see what she was sure was an unabashedly gleeful expression.

Of course, whatever expression he wore, it was no match for the Cheshire cat grin on Liza’s face. Margaret caught sight of her friend’s eyes sparkling with delight as she stepped forward to seize Silas’s hand now that it had let go of Margaret’s and give it a firm shake.

“Liza Stippleton,” Liza declared as she shook Silas’s hand with the overexaggerated force of a president accepting an award. “We didn’t meet properly last night, but I own the bookshop down the road, The Bewitched Quill. Right next to the spa—I’m sure you’ve seen it? Bright green sign that says: It Must Be Magic—Healing Hands.”

Silas recovered faster than Margaret could seem to. He returned Liza’s grin and her enthusiasm.

“Silas Birchwood,” he said, releasing Liza’s hand. “I’m afraid I haven’t yet had the pleasure of exploring that side of the village. One of the reasons my dear uncle is showing me around this afternoon.”

“Keeps too much to his usual haunts, I’m afraid,” Elliott said. “Always grading. Always working. A young man should be making the most of his free time, shouldn’t he? Seeing the sights. Especially given this is his first time in a magical village.”

Elliott’s eyes were warm, but realization settled then as to why the headmaster was so eager for Silas to connect with Margaret.

I’m sure he’d adore you both. Especially you, Margaret.

Silas wasn’t magical, and Margaret was the only person who could understand what it was like to have no magic in this magical town. To know what it was like to have to scrub your floors rather than wave your wand. To have friends who could do it for you, if you gave up all of your dignity.

If it were anyone else, Margaret might’ve been annoyed—possibly even hurt. But she knew Elliott. He wanted only the best for everyone around him. And she couldn’t really blame him for looking out for his nephew.

“There’s so much to do in Hex Hollow,” Liza said. “I’ll bet you haven’t even been to Spells and Scents, the candle shop. They do candles that change to the exact smell you need based on your mood. And then there’s the magical spice shop and the—”

Liza kept talking, but Margaret wasn’t listening. Something down the way had caught her eye. The witch whose foot Silas had nearly maimed was talking to a tall stranger in a smart, maroon cloak. His back was turned, so Margaret couldn’t see his face, but he was holding out a flyer to the girl. Even from here, Margaret could see the flyer was enchanted, shimmering like the night sky with gold writing that flashed and sparkled.

The young witch held it up to the light like jewelry and giggled, nodding fervently. The man dipped his head, saying something else, before he turned around and left. Margaret watched as the girl sighed after him before she wheeled around and pinned the flyer to the board just outside the shop, where the blue and gold glittered against the other plain notices. It fixed itself, and the girl clapped her hands together once before heading back inside.

“Perhaps you ladies would like to take over for me and show Silas around?” Elliott was saying, somewhere in the distance, but Margaret could barely comprehend that anyone was speaking. She was drifting toward the board, anxiety buzzing in her mind as she approached.

She knew what it would say, even before she got close enough to read the looping calligraphy.

Fox Bar: A one-of-a-kind experience arriving soon in Hex Hollow!

Margaret’s heart sank. As she read the words, a tiny golden fox leapt across the letters. Fizzy bubbles erupted from the bottom of the page. The magic in this flyer alone was more than Margaret could ever hope to produce, and if this was what the damn advertisement looked like . . . she could scarcely imagine what the actual place would be.

“Margaret?”

Margaret turned to see Silas watching her, brows knitted with concern. He must’ve thought she’d been possessed, drawn as she was to the flyer. Behind him, she could see Liza giving her a look of pure bewilderment and also a look that said plainly, “Why the hell did you walk away from this perfectly lovely man when you were in the middle of a conversation?”

But the flyer’s appearance had poured a bucket of ice water directly onto Margaret, reminding her that she didn’t have time for kind men with piercing blue eyes and the sort of smile she could lose herself in. Because Margaret couldn’t afford to be lost in anything right now. And as much as she wanted both to appease Elliott and to take up the easy excuse to spend an afternoon with Silas, she had a pub to tend to.

“Forgive me,” she said. “I’ll have to take a rain check. I’m afraid I’ve got a lot of work to do.”