Page 50 of Spellwright

Who knows why this dastardly magician abandoned his promise of love? Alas, we’ve been unable to pin down his whereabouts or uncover any explanation for his deplorable actions, and all Madburys we approached declined our invitation to provide clarity.

Through tears, but still lovely in her golden wedding gown, which looked to be spun from the rays of the sun itself, Andromeda told us she only wishes him well and hopes to “have a word” once he eventually returns to town. (And we have a few choice words she could offer him.)

When asked about her own penchant for breaking hearts, Andromeda—often referred to as the Heartcrusher—braved a small smile and regretfully said, “I don’t know how to keep them from falling in love with me.”

It seems, however, that Penbrook Madbury did not, and if he can resist the irresistible Andromeda Dahl, we fear he possesses a very cold and lonely heart.

Very carefully, Fia set the newssheet back in its place and pushed Penbrook’s glasses up on her head. She felt strangely numb, clobbered with a truth she wished she could unknow.

How could Penbrook do something so awful? How could he have been engaged? She knew him; and she didn’t know him at all.

We’re always missing each other, it seems, Andromeda had said. Things… fell through the last time we had plans.

She’d put on such a brave face, understating everything as she covered her heartache, saying not one bad word about him. Poor Andromeda! Her feelings were the only ones that mattered now. Not Fia’s. No, she didn’t—she couldn’t—have any feelings about this. About Penbrook.

But her emotions crashed down around her, an overwhelming heap of them lodging in her throat. How had she ever let herself doubt her mother’s warning that happy endings only belonged in fairy tales? She touched her chest, her gargoyle-guarded heart. She was fine. Penbrook wasn’t anything to her.

Really, the magician was just a means to clearing her name, finding her mother’s spellbook—and gaining an exceptional pair of reading glasses. She stuffed them into the pocket of her skirt, not so certain she’d return them after all.

Then, tossing her hair over her shoulder, she marched to the back of the shop, prepared to confront Penbrook—and found him sitting in the seat she’d vacated, his nose in the book of curses she hadn’t meant for him to see.

“You aren’t very subtle,” he said without looking up, eyes trained on the last page of the book. On the warning about curses coming to pass before they could ever possibly be broken.

Fia winced, remembering the way she’d jumped up from the table, then edged the book aside, drawing his attention when she’d hoped to deflect it. “I didn’t think it would do you any good to read that bit,” she said sharply, biting back the things she wanted to say about him abandoning Andromeda at the altar.

She shouldn’t bring it up here anyway. The last thing Grace needed was for Fia and Penbrook to get into an argument and chase away her customers before they’d purchased that tea set.

Penbrook closed the book, finally lifting his face to look at her. “I heard similar things from every one of the curse workers I met with. It’s nothing new.”

But something about him looked different, looked defeated, as if the fact that she now had this information made it more real to him. That it was harder to deny.

Even though Fia was still upset with him for his secrets, she didn’t want him to die. “That doesn’t mean it’s absolute. The book even said so.”

Penbrook stood and began gathering the books in his arms to return them to the shelf. “But if we’re being practical…”

That was what Fia’s mother would want her to be right now. She would have said Penbrook was all but a goner and to say their farewells. Better to face the truth of his circumstances than expect an impossible outcome.

Silently, practically, furiously, Fia helped collect the rest of the books.

When Fia and Penbrook returned to Sable Spells, both of them stubbornly quiet along the way, they found Andromeda waiting outside once again, wearing a blush-colored dress and a sad little frown.

She must have been gutted by everything that had happened with Penbrook and wanted to talk to him again. To mend her fractured heart.

Before Fia could stop herself, she ran over to the other girl and threw her arms around her. Andromeda hugged her back, though she probably had no idea why Fia was acting so strangely.

“Sorry,” Fia said, slightly embarrassed as she pulled away.

A smile replaced Andromeda’s frown. “I welcome the hug.” She fluttered her eyelashes at Penbrook. “Have you got one for me?”

Penbrook folded his arms. “What do you want, Andromeda?”

“Do you really want to talk about it here?”

“I don’t want to talk about it at all.”

“You’d better, after what you’ve done.” This sharp demand spouted from Fia, and they both turned to her, confusion rippling in their eyes. She hadn’t meant to insert herself into their business—Montrose certainly wouldn’t have approved—but she couldn’t help herself. Fia had already held her tongue all the way here.

“What is it you think I’ve done?” Penbrook asked stiffly.