Page 34 of Impawssible Magic

He turns back at the door. “Don’t see Iskra Sable alone. If she comes in, call me.”

“Is that an order?”

“A strong suggestion. From someone who’s invested in your continued existence.”

The word wraps around my heart.

“I should go inside.” I gesture toward my shop. “Process. Possibly interrogate my crystals about their security protocols.”

“Probably wise.”

Neither of us moves.

The doorway is narrow. I’m standing half in, half out, and he’s right there, close enough that I can see individual striations in his amber eyes. His hand rises. Hovers near my face.

My magic sparks. Reaches.

“Oh, there you are.”

Grandmother Peach materializes approximately three feet away, holding a covered dish, smiling with the serenity of someone who absolutely knew what she was interrupting.

“I made extra cobbler. Forgot to give it to you earlier.” She presses the dish into my hands. “For sustenance.”

Aslan has taken two steps back. His expression has shuttered to neutral, but there’s definitely a flush along his cheekbones.

“Thank you.” My voice sounds strangled. “That’s very... thoughtful.”

“I’m a thoughtful person.” She pats my arm. “Sleep well, dear. Tomorrow will be busy.”

She vanishes around the corner like she was never there.

We stand in awkward silence for approximately three centuries.

“I should go,” Aslan says finally.

“Yes. Probably. Good idea.”

“Early start tomorrow.”

“Research. Important.”

“Goodnight.” I step inside, clutching my cobbler like a shield. “Try not to brood too dramatically.”

“Goodnight, Leire.”

He waits until I’ve closed the door before he moves. I know because I watch from my window, and he’s still there at the edge of the square when I look—a shadow watching my shop, watching me.

I eat the cobbler alone at my small table, thinking about ancient factions and cryptic warnings and the way his hand almost touched my face.

The Preservers are hunting me. An enemy I didn’t know existed, for reasons I don’t understand.

EIGHT

ASLAN

Idon’t leave the square that night.

I tell myself it’s protocol—the warning I gave Veren about Iskra Sable still fresh in my own ears, every instinct sharpened by things that don’t add up. I tell myself watching from outside is enough, the way it’s been enough for three weeks.