Laura might have called it a day off, but it was only in the loosest sense. The shop stayed closed to customers, but she still had work to do, and on this particular day, her tasks stretched endlessly before her.

She had spent the night hunched over the grimoire in her workshop, reading by lamplight until the pages blurred and she started teetering in her chair, the exhaustion trying to pull her into sleep. Eventually, she did give in to her body’s wishes.

That was a mistake. She woke up with a feeling of wrongness, and it took a while to determine that neither the stiffness in her neck nor her dry, itching eyes were to blame. It was the sunlight pouring into the room, illuminating the ever-present mess and making it too clear that she had overslept. There went her plans of going home at first light.

She had meant to finish her work quickly and sneak out of the shop before sunrise, to minimize the risk of running into any people and maybe, if she were lucky, make it home before her uncle woke. There was no hope of that anymore. Other shopkeepers were surely already at their posts, preparing to open for a new day, and the first morning bell was going to ring at any moment, if it hadn’t already.

Still, the longer she tarried, the worse it would get.

The room was a mess, but she had no time or energy to clean up. She checked on the stove, though, making sure the fire was completely out, and there was no trace left of the magic chocolates among the ashes. Burning them had been a waste of pricey ingredients, but there was no way to salvage anything, not with magic involved.

At least there was no chance of anyone else falling for that spell. Better yet, she now had a good chance to fix her mistake before anyone else caught wind of it.

Her great-aunt’s collection of potions was rather extensive, and her handwriting was not always tidy. Still, among all the many recipes listed there, Laura managed to find one likely antidote and at least three more that couldn't hurt to try.

Many of the needed ingredients she already had stashed around the workshop, and those she did not weren't hard to find. She could pick most of the plants from the meadow where she was going to forage for wildflowers, and her uncle’s herb pantry was sure to have whatever else she was missing.

Thinking of her uncle made her uneasy. She dreaded him finding out that she’d been dabbling in magic, and even worse, brewing illegal potions. He’d always had high hopes for her, and she couldn’t let him down like that, especially after so vehemently rejecting his advice to enroll in the Academy all those years ago.

She would find a way to keep that secret from him, but before she had any reason to worry about that, she had to first make it home unnoticed. There were no mirrors in the shop, but she didn’t need one to know she looked a mess, and the fewer people who saw her on the street, the better. It didn’t take much to start a rumor that she was sleeping in her shop, and that was the last thing she needed.

At least that was what she thought before she made it to the door and saw what was waiting for her. There, waiting patiently outside her shop, even more flawless than usual, was Ambrose Waycaster.

He was looking down the street, in the direction she would usually be coming from, so absorbed in his thoughts that she might have had a chance to slip by him unnoticed, had the bells not given her away as soon as she opened the door.

Ambrose turned on his heel and took in the sight of her with the expression a long-traveled sailor must wear upon seeing land for the first time in weeks. If anything, he looked even more besotted than the day before.

“Good morning,” he said, all smiles and good cheer. “I brought you something.”

It was only then that Laura noticed he had one hand hidden behind his back, and for a dreadful moment, she feared he might have brought her flowers. The crinkle of paper did not put her at ease.

"No, thank you,” she replied curtly and tried to push past him.

He stopped her with an outstretched hand holding a paper bag. “You could at least see what I'm offering first.”

Laura's stomach grumbled even before the smell of freshly baked cookies reached her nose. It wasn't a scent she could ignore, the mix of spices and sweetness so familiar to her. They were her favorites, and though she would not be caught dead setting foot in the Waycaster bakery, Eleanor was more than happy to procure them for her.

Ambrose gently took one of her hands and placed the small bag in her palm. It was still warm, and she could not fathom how he had managed to wake up that early to bake and still look so fresh.

“They're to take with your tea.” He put on that gentle smile again, the one so unnerving in its sincerity. And it would have painted a pretty picture if he hadn't opened his mouth again. “You can have me over for tea, too, if you want.”

“I'll have the cookies, thank you very much.” And just the cookies, Laura thought, putting all of her annoyance into freeing her hand. Then she walked away.

Ambrose trailed in her wake, his footsteps echoing hers down the empty alley. She picked up her pace, hoping he would take the hint and stay behind, but he was nothing if not persistent. His long legs carried him on, and though she was nearly out of breath, he didn’t seem to mind the speed.

When the alley finally gave way into the main street, Laura turned on her heel and faced him, crossing her arms. “And why, pray tell, are you following me?”

The look on his face was nauseatingly sweet. “I thought you might like some company, since the streets are all but deserted at this time of day. And I’m also quite an asset when it comes to hailing cabs. You’re going home, aren’t you?”

He raised his hand, and not two heartbeats later, the clatter of hooves on the cobblestone announced a carriage stopping just behind Laura. She was so surprised at his gesture that, for a moment, she forgot to be annoyed. When he bent over to open the door for her, she almost let herself be grateful.

Then the moony smile he directed at her reminded her that this was all the spell’s doing.

“Go on, then. I need to run back to the bakery after I see you off.” Then, seeing Laura still hesitating, his smile spread even wider. “Would you like me to come with, after all?”

“No way.” The words flew out of her mouth without a conscious thought.

Laura turned her back on him and climbed inside the empty carriage, settling on the narrow bench. She reached out to close the door after her, but Ambrose was still holding it open.

His eyes were gleaming with a strange light, and the smile was still playing at the corner of his lips. “You should at least say goodbye.”

She sighed but complied. “Farewell.”

“That’s not quite what I was hoping for.”

“But it is the best you’re going to get,” she retorted, finally managing to pull the door closed.

The carriage creaked into motion, and she tried to put her mind off Ambrose, but it was hard to do when she could still see him through the small window. His lips were moving, and even from a distance, she was pretty sure he was mouthing a “See you later.”

She did manage to forget about that by the time she finally rounded the corner onto her street and saw the familiar ivy-covered facade of the townhouse she had called home for the last ten years. Nobody was about yet, but she knew most of the neighbors were early risers, so she hurried inside before anyone could spot her.

The house smelled of dried herbs and old books, the comforting scents wrapping around her like a well-worn shawl. From the sitting room came the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock and the occasional rustle of turning pages.

“There’s my wayward niece,” came her uncle’s voice before she’d taken three steps inside. “I was beginning to think you’d taken up residence at that shop of yours.”

Laura paused in the doorway, finding her uncle ensconced in his favorite armchair with a thick tome balanced on his knee and a steaming cup of tea waiting patiently on the small table at his side. His spectacles caught the morning light as he peered at her over their rims, taking in her disheveled appearance.

“Or maybe I’m wrong,” he said, a hint of sarcasm tinting his words. “Were you out fighting bears, after all?”

Her uncle was a calm and kind man. He had never been the type to scold Laura, and the little joke was enough to tell her that she was not in trouble.

“There are no bears in Belarune,” she started, building up her excuse. “I was just caught up with a project, and I decided to sleep at the workshop rather than try to make my way home in the middle of the night. You see, the Harvest Feast—”

“—is only a week away,” he finished for her. “I know. You’ve been giving me the countdown every day for the last month.” His gaze sharpened. “You’re not usually one for such last-minute preparations, though. Is everything all right?”

The question hung between them, weighted with years of unspoken understanding. Laura felt the confession rise in her throat, and she was ready to tell him everything, from her failed contest entry to the cursed potion that had turned both Eleanor and Ambrose into lovesick fools. But pride clamped her lips shut. She had brought this magical mishap on herself, and she would be the one to set it right.

“All’s good,” she said, putting on a smile that felt wrong even to her. “I just want this year’s entry to be perfect.”

His brows lifted slightly, but he didn’t press the issue. He had a way of letting silence stretch just long enough to make her feel like he could read every thought in her head. “Well, if there is anything you need help with, you know where to find me.”

“I’ve got it handled,” she cut in quickly. “But thank you.”

She was grateful, too, to always know she could turn to him for help. It had been like that even before her mother had passed away, but the grief had brought them even closer together. She hated keeping secrets from him, but the guilt surrounding her magical mishap was much greater than that stemming from this little show of deceit.

“Here.” She extended the hand holding the bag of cookies toward him in an unspoken apology. “They go great with tea.”

A tiny frown passed over her uncle’s face, but cleared up in moments. “Actually, my dear, I think you should keep them.” He rummaged through the pile of mail on the side table and pulled out a small card, handing it over. “The young Mage Chantswift would like to have you over for breakfast.”

Laura needed a moment to figure out who he was referring to, and had to read the cramped note on the card to make sure. It had only been a few weeks since Eleanor’s graduation, and her mage title was still new and unfamiliar. After eight years of calling each other by their first names, this change was going to take a long time to get used to, perhaps even longer than it had taken to accept her own title after she had reopened the shop.

It felt like they were still only children playing at being grown-ups. But they were both of age and vetted in their respective fields now, so they had to play by the rules society set for them. Mage Chantswift had invited Miss Quillspell for a visit, as they had agreed the day before, and Laura was going to honor her promise.

“You should get moving if you want to get there before breakfast is over,” her uncle added.

Laura nodded and bolted for the stairs, already making a list of all the preparations she needed to get through.