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“Oooooh, croissants!” Merle fell onto the bread basket like a starved puppy onto a steak.
With an indulgent smile, Hazel prepared the decaf for her. “Knock yourself out, sweetie. I can put some more in the oven if you’d like.”
“No, no, it’f fine,” Merle said around chewing. “I don’t want to wob you of food.”
Hazel chuckled and turned on the oven.
“So.” Merle tried to sit on a stool at the island, wobbled and swayed, cursed quietly, and instead plopped down on a chair at the breakfast table. Eyeing Hazel, she pointed with a half-eaten croissant. “You seem more relaxed than I’ve seen you in a while.”
Hazel straightened her spine and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, casting a glance at Merle. “Oh?”
“Mm-hmm.” There was a glint in the younger witch’s eye. “Have you been…working out?”
Clearing her throat, Hazel handed Merle the coffee. “Um, yeah, a little. You know, dusting off my treadmill.”
“Uh-huh.” Merle grinned while chewing. “I was thinking more some exercise of the horizontal kind.”
Face flaming, Hazel decided to play dumb. Putting some more frozen croissants on a baking sheet, she said, “Well, I have been doing some yoga, yes.”
Merle made a small, frustrated sound. Then, quietly, “You can tell me, you know.”
A part of her itched to do just that. It would be nice to have someone to talk to about this, to not keep it all bottled up, a taboo subject to tiptoe around.
But speaking it aloud would make it official, would acknowledge it in a way that she wasn’t comfortable with. This was just a casual thing, a mutually agreed upon, unofficial fling that was between her and Tallak. Letting others know about it would invite unnecessary involvement and comments, not to mention expectations.
And the last thing Hazel wanted to deal with was other people’s opinions on how she led her life. She’d endured enough judgment from the ones near and dear to her—first Isabel, then Robert. No, she didn’t want to expose this new, untested thing to the evaluation by those around her, not when their well-intentioned advice might torpedo her own sense of what was right for her.
So instead of answering Merle’s question, she deflected with one of her own as she shoved the baking sheet into the oven. “Have you heard anything about Sophie? That spell she’s looking for?”
Merle’s aura flickered, quiet disappointment in her eyes before she shifted with the change of topic. “No. I guess she hasn’t found anything yet, or else she’d have contacted the council by now.”
Hazel nodded and joined Merle at the table. “She must be very keen on unearthing that spell. It’s her only chance at getting the head-of-family title and reconnecting her family to ambient magic.”
“Unless,” Merle said while delicately picking apart the rest of her croissant, “even having a functioning head of family might not give the Laroches back their access to extra magic.”
Hazel pursed her lips. “With the way things are going, it might hit them, too, yeah.”
“Just imagine.” Merle’s grin held a wicked edge. “A Laroche having to switch allegiance to Arawn or else condemn their family to permanent lack of magic.”
“A mean thought.” But Hazel’s lips twitched into a smile.
“Downright nefarious.” Merle insouciantly sucked a croissant flake off her finger.
“We wouldn’t wish that on them, of course.” Hazel sipped her coffee.
Merle widened her eyes. “Why, I never.”
“Speaking of lack of magic, heard anything about Beth?”
Merle shook her head. “But”—she raised one finger—“Sarai texted me last night saying there was some weirdness going on during her patrol with Tanya Kaminski.”
Hazel leaned forward. “What kind of weirdness?”
“She didn’t say exactly, just that they had some trouble pinning down a nest of demons when it should have been easy. Like Tanya was off her game somehow.” Merle shot her a meaningful look.
Hazel blew out a breath. “How long until the next preventable death?”
The younger witch looked out into the rain-kissed yard. “I don’t want to jinx it, so I’m not gonna say how soon I think it will be.”
