The mirror was not kind to Laura, showing her a reflection too clear to leave any room for doubt. Between her disheveled hair and the rumpled clothes, she did indeed look like she had been out all night fighting bears. It also looked like she had lost the fight, judging by the haggard state of her face. She was surprised her uncle hadn’t made more of a fuss.

If Ambrose could look upon her in that state and still find her attractive, the spell he was under must have been truly powerful. But if it didn’t make much difference one way or another, it meant she was free to put a little effort into looking good for her visit to Eleanor’s place.

Donning fresh clothes and redoing her braid made her feel marginally more human, and, after checking that her satchel had all the supplies she needed, she made her way back downstairs. Her uncle was still in the same spot, and she said her farewells before putting on her sturdy boots and rushing out the door.

The Chantswifts lived just across the street, in a townhouse nearly identical to her uncle’s. Like many other magic families, they had moved to Belarune City to give their children a chance to attend the Academy and become mages. Now, eight years later, their oldest daughter had already graduated, and their younger children were on their way there, too.

There was little to mark the passing of all that time, though. The house, with its tall and narrow door, looked just like it had on the first day Laura had made her way across the street, and so did the tall and skinny butler who let her in.

No one would have given their friendship a chance back then. Laura herself hadn’t. She was still reeling from the loss of her mother and didn’t think she had room in her heart for anyone new, but Eleanor had marched into her life like a storm, too stubborn and too kind to be pushed away. That kindness hadn’t changed, even though there was no trace left of that scruffy ten-year-old anymore. She had become a proper young lady, with all the frills that entailed.

Laura watched her from the door of the dining room. Her friend was going about her day in her usual way, chatting animatedly with her younger siblings between sips of tea. It was such a reassuring picture of normalcy that, for a moment, she allowed herself to hope that the spell had magically worn off.

That hope was shattered as soon as Eleanor turned and laid eyes on her guest. Her teacup hit the saucer with a sharp clink, and the lively conversation around the breakfast table fizzled out. It could have been mistaken for simple joy at seeing a friend at first, before the unmistakable shimmer of adoration made itself clear in her glance.

There was barely enough time for Laura to brace herself before Eleanor sprang to hug her, nearly toppling her over.

“Laura, dearest!” her friend all but sang her name, embracing her with more force than could be expected of such a spindly girl.

The younger Chantswift siblings giggled into their teacups, clearly amused at their older sister’s display. They had no idea this wasn’t simply a case of overenthusiastic friendly affection, but a tragic display of magically induced infatuation.

“Good morning,” Laura managed, extracting herself from the clinging embrace with some difficulty. “I hope I’m not interrupting your breakfast.”

“Not at all,” came the breathless reply as eager hands immediately sought hers again. “We were nearly finished anyway.”

“Were not!” one of the twins commented. “I still want my dessert!”

Eleanor turned a silencing glare on her sister, mumbling under her breath. “These kids are getting more annoying with every passing day. I can’t wait to be out of here, but I just can’t find a suitable apprenticeship that offers accommodations. Speaking of—” The sentence trailed off as soon as she turned back to Laura.

“What is it?”

“It’s you,” Eleanor said, the cutting tone replaced with a syrupy sweet voice. “Your face is absolutely radiant today.”

That sharp switch gave Laura pause. Just a moment ago, her friend had been her usual self, griping about her siblings and fretting over her future. The second she turned back, though, she was back to her bespelled adoration. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give Laura an idea she had to try.

“Could you look away for a moment?”

Eleanor shook her head. “No way. I haven’t seen you in ages, and I’m not going to waste one moment I could use to enjoy your beauty.”

Laura barely suppressed a groan. Those declarations were getting more and more unreasonable, and it was clear from the way the younger Chantswift children were leaning in, dessert forgotten, that they found their discussion quite entertaining. She needed a better plan.

“Do you think we could have tea in your rooms? There’s something I want to talk to you about. Alone. I even brought a snack.” She pulled the small bag out of her satchel, feeling a little strange offering the gifts from one bespelled admirer to the other.

But Eleanor had no idea where the cookies had come from, and she likely wouldn’t have cared even if she knew. Her eyes sparkled with delight, and her feet were already taking her out of the dining room and in the direction of the stairs. “Please send a pot of tea to my room,” she told the butler, while busily dragging Laura away.

As soon as they were out of the room, though, it was like a dam had broken. Eleanor’s words tumbled out between breaths—dreams she’d had, compliments about Laura’s appearance, effusive declarations that would have been sweet if they weren’t so clearly the potion’s work. The words echoed off the portrait-lined walls, each painted ancestor seeming to witness this strange spectacle with silent judgment.

It didn’t go on for long, though. Once Eleanor set foot into her bedroom, Laura shook her hand free and pushed the door shut between them, leaning on it with all her weight. She held her breath for a few heartbeats, waiting for some protests and even an escape attempt, but there was no indication of movement inside the room.

“Laura?” The voice came muffled through the thick wood. “What is going on with you today?”

The angry tone was reassuring, as was the complete lack of endearing adjectives or unwarranted compliments. But she couldn’t rest easy just yet.

“How are you?” she asked, turning her head slightly to make her words easier to hear on the other side, while still bracing the door.

“Annoyed,” came the swift response. “If I knew you were in the mood for silly games, I would have had my dessert before coming up here. You promised me a snack!”

Laura could rest easy after hearing that, sure now that her friend had returned to her usual demeanor. Her hunch had proven true, too; the spell had no effect if Eleanor couldn’t see her. That was going to make things much, much easier.

“I’ll give you the cookies, but you need to do something for me first, alright?” No response came through, so she moved on with her speech. “Turn away from the door, close your eyes, and don’t move. Let me know once you’re done.”

A deep sigh reached her ears, then words started trickling through. “You sure are acting strange today. Those cookies better be worth all this. Done!”

With one quick movement, Laura opened the door just enough for the bag to fit through and closed it just as swiftly.

“But these are the Waycaster’s spiced honey cakes! How did you get them? You can’t have gone to buy them yourself!” She ended her sentence with the sound of loud munching; it seemed that the treats were well received.

“It’s a long story,” Laura started, sliding down the door until she was sitting on the floor beside it. “It all started with the chocolates I asked you to try yesterday.” And she went on to tell her the entirety of the mess she’d made, from getting her bespelled to garnering Ambrose’s attentions in quite the same way.

Eleanor was not a good listener usually, but the cookies did keep her mouth occupied.

“And so,” Laura concluded, “I need you to not look at me until I have the antidote figured out. It’s what’s best for both of us.”

“That’s easy to do,” came the voice from behind the door, “since I’m going to be out of town for a few days, checking on an offer of apprenticeship. I’m leaving this afternoon, so there’s no reason to worry about me, but what are you planning to do about the young Mister Waycaster? You can’t be thinking of locking him inside his bedroom like this. Things might get… interesting.”

The little pause did not escape Laura, and the implication hidden behind her friend’s meaningful tone made the blood rise into her cheeks. “This is exactly why I need an antidote,” she said firmly. “Seeing him through my window every day was aggravating enough. Having him follow me around is not something I can live with. And the things he says to me!”

A thoughtful crunching sound came from the other side. “You know,” Eleanor said between bites, “even before this love spell fiasco, I always suspected there was something going on between the two of you. I know you’re rolling your eyes over there, but I have good reasons to think that.”

Laura snorted. “Oh, really? Let’s hear them, then.”

“For one, you talk about him all the time. It’s been that way since the day you started your apprenticeship; we haven’t had one chat without some mention of Ambrose sneaking in.”

“Because he’s been a thorn in my side all this time!” Laura cut in.

“Not always. I know you used to be friends once.”

Laura sighed. “That was a long time ago, when we were still very young. With the shops just across the road from one another and neither of us having other siblings to play with, our parents pushed us together to get us out from under their feet. And we did get along, as I’m sure any children of similar age would have. We were pretty close for a while, even. But then things changed, as they do.”

“When your mother fell ill?” A small, tentative question.

“Yes.” Laura took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts. “After we closed the shop, there was no reason for me to hang out with Ambrose anymore. I met him at the funeral, though. He also came by the house a few times after that, trying to talk me into playing with him, but… You remember what I was like back then. Two years later, when I started my apprenticeship and I saw him there, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

“I remember how angry you were those first few months.”

“It was such a difficult position for me to get, and he was just there, insinuating himself into my craft when he was already set to inherit a successful bakery. I had reasons to be angry!” Her voice rose slightly. “He claimed he wanted to learn the basics so he could adapt them to pastries, which turned out to be true. But he also stuck his nose into everything I did, criticizing my technique and trying to correct my recipes. There was no way for the two of us to work together in the same room. I’m lucky he dropped out of the apprenticeship when he did, or I would have had to. And then, after I became a full confectioner and reopened the shop, he started stealing my creations. Those salted caramel tarts that won him the golden medal two years ago? The filling was a blatant copy of my toffees!”

Laura stopped, out of breath. She had gathered enough complaints over the years that she could go on for days, and her friend had already heard all of them, so she ought to have known better.

“Do you hear yourself?” Eleanor asked. “You don’t even talk this passionately about tempering chocolate, and that’s saying something.”

“I might hate him with a passion, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

From the other side of the door, more distant than before, Eleanor’s voice came in a slightly amused lilt. “Have it your way, then, but don’t come crying to me when his feelings turn out to be true.”

Laura rolled her eyes. “You’re still going on with that?”

“If you’re right and the spell only works when the person has eyes on you, then I find no other explanation for this sight I have from my window. I think you’d better go.”

And she did, saying a rushed goodbye and taking the steps down two at a time, all the while hoping against hope that it wasn’t Ambrose Waycaster waiting for her outside.