Page 62 of Enchanted Village

He pushed his glasses back. This morning, he hadn’t been able to find his contacts—had probably not disposed of them properly in his, ahem, state last night—and so had been forced to wear the black-rimmed glasses he typically only put on at night and in the morning.

“You want to spend the day together?” Margaret asked, speaking slowly, as if the words didn’t make sense.

Liza giggled, and Silas coughed. He honestly couldn’t tell if she was being obtuse on purpose or if she truly, honestly couldn’t see what he was doing. He wished Liza would step away, but now that this was happening, she appeared rooted to the spot.

“Well,” said Silas. “Unless you don’t want to.”

“Oh,” Margaret said softly, blinking the snowfall from her eyes. “Like . . . a date?”

Silas laughed at the directness of her question. He hadn’t expected her to put him on the spot like that. When she smiled back at him, he had nothing to do but shrug.

“I guess we could find out,” he offered.

“And that’s my cue,” Liza said, winking at her friend. “Don’t forget what we talked about. I’ll look for your letter.”

And then, she plucked the flowers from Margaret’s hands and set off up the lane, whistling a Christmas tune that, Silas noted, was terribly off-key.

“She’s impossible,” Margaret said, shaking her head.

Silas wanted to ask if Liza had said anything about last night, but he wasn’t sure how to phrase it. What did she see? Do you care that she saw us? Do you wish she hadn’t stopped us?

Most importantly: Do you want to do that again?

“How’s Wyatt?” Margaret asked, puncturing his bubble of questions.

“He seemed fine last night at the feast,” Silas said. “Hopefully, whatever bullying was happening has subsided.”

“I imagine the bullies going home helped with that,” Margaret pointed out, and Silas nodded his agreement.

She bit her lip. Silas tried not to watch the way her teeth moved over the full pout of her bottom lip. He searched for something else to say.

“I see you’re wearing my scarf,” he said. “The scarf I got you, I mean.”

“Oh,” Margaret said, smiling and patting the scarf. “I am. It’s quite warm.”

She laughed a little as she fingered the tasseled end. “You see now why I had no use for the wand potion.”

A sadness had crept into her features that Silas was determined to banish.

“Margaret,” he said. “What about that date?”

Her eyes flashed as she looked up at him, a smirk capturing her lips.

“So, it is a date,” she said.

He offered her his arm, and she looped hers in his.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he said with a chuckle before leading her forward, into the snow and the definitely-a-date he had planned.

The first thing that Silas had arranged for them was a carriage ride. Silas had long seen carriage rides in pictures and movies with an open carriage, cozy velvet interior, pulled by great chestnut horses. Hex Hollow’s version, however, was something else. This carriage was large, cherry red, with a closed cabin and enormous wheels. Rather than a horse or two at the front, there were two magical creatures that Silas recognized right away: snowy-white hippogriffs with the bodies of Clydesdale horses and golden, feathered wings. Each had sharp yellow eyes and even sharper yellow beaks, which they snapped affectionately in Margaret’s direction when she approached.

“Oh, they’re gorgeous,” Margaret said, moving toward the one on the right so that she could pat its beak. Silas chuckled. He was certain that, had any other human being attempted that, they would’ve lost a hand, but the hippogriff merely chuffed and blinked softly as Margaret stroked its enormous head.

“I’ve checked into the ethics of it,” Silas said. “The carriage is charmed so they’re not carrying any of the weight. They’re merely guiding it through the air. I’m also told they’re handsomely cared for, but if you have any qualms, of course, we don’t need to do it.”

Margaret paused her petting of the hippogriff and turned her head to Silas.

“You . . . you researched all that?” Margaret asked.