Jacky excused himself from dinner by saying that he had important business that he couldn’t miss out on. When Mr. Axton expressed his concern that Jacky would starve, I double-excused him by explaining that Jacky usually took care of his own meals.

“He’s into some weird fad diets,” I said. “Right now it’s intermittent fasting.”

“Intermit—” Axton pointed to the door Noctis had left by. “That man is doing intermittent fasting?”

“You see, he’s not trying to be rude. He just doesn’t like to inconvenience people.”

Axton shook his head. “If a man like that is still dieting then there is no hope for the rest of us. How long has he been at it?”

“Oh, geez. A long time.”

“Well, it seems to be working. He’s as skinny as a rail!”

“I know, right?” I said with a grin.

I had used up all my meager talent for lying to cover for Big Jacky, so I didn’t have any handy excuses that would allow me to get out of dinner. Besides, I was starving.

At dinnertime, as Olivia and I made our way toward the stairs, I asked her if Nylah was going to be as confrontational during the meal as she had been that afternoon.

“Does it matter?” she said. “I have no doubt you’ll find some creative way to completely mortify me if she is.”

“I thought you’d approve!” I said. “Now you don’t have to pretend to like me.”

“I was never going to pretend to like you.”

“And I admire your integrity. But I was more worried about how she talked to you.”

Olivia hesitated at the top of the stairs. “What do you mean?”

I made my voice higher to emphasize the biting sarcasm Nylah had so effortlessly employed. “My, you have matured.”

I never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own magical eyes—a faint smile appeared on Olivia’s lips.

She also rolled her eyes and shook her head, but I was used to that kind of reaction.

“That was nothing,” she said.

We started down the stairs.

“That was cattish at best and”—loyalty to Ms. Elstein made me pause, but my vocabulary wasn’t good enough to supply a non-swearing alternative—“bitchy at worst.”

“Trust me, she gets much worse.”

My stomach sank. I'd braced myself for dealing with what I’d assumed was Nylah's average hostility level. I wasn't thrilled by the idea that I'd underestimated the situation.

Olivia went on, her voice casual, “Anyway, you don’t have to worry about dinner. She won’t be catty in front of mother unless I provoke her. Mother doesn’t like to be embarrassed in front of guests.”

The little hairs on my arms stood up.

I looked at Olivia out of the corner of my eye. As usual, her face was smooth and slightly haughty.

Looking forward again, I said, “Olivia, why do you wear your witch’s hat so much?”

“Because I earned it, and no one’s going to take it from me.”

Axton was waiting for us in the opening to the dining room.

“Here they are!” he cried. “That’s almost a full table again.” He waved to hurry us. “Come on, we don’t want dinner to get cold.”

Olivia and I sat side by side. Ellis and Nylah were across from us. Axton had a spot at the head of the table, but he had volunteered to help Janice bring in the dishes.

I studied my table setting. There were five utensils, not counting the butter-spreader. So much for a “casual” dinner.

God bless Igor. His ludicrous insistence on setting out the silver and china for every dinner was the only reason I knew what some of those utensils were for, and I was much more comfortable revealing my ignorance to him, rather than the Oliversens. After all, Igor had already decided I was an uncultured abomination. With luck, the Oliversens hadn’t figured it out yet.

Axton kept a comfortable conversation going as we ate. He knew when to talk, he knew when to ask questions, and he knew when to prod people to share. I marveled as I watched him.

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Being friendly came naturally to Rall Axton, token male, but conversation techniques like that had to be some kind of skill. He took those skills and slapped them over all the relationship cracks in an effort to hold the meal together.

I wondered if he’d tried to use them to hold his family together.

The first awkward moment came when Olivia inserted her unprompted question into the conversation.

“Has anything weird been going on in town?”

The tines of Nylah’s fork rose, and her eyes narrowed. “What are you going on about?”

I had to bite my lips together to keep from laughing. For a moment, she’d looked so much like Olivia, it was spooky, but I doubted either of them would have appreciated the comparison.

Olivia ignored her sister. Her eyes were fixed on her mother.

Ellis silently chewed her food, swallowed, and ran the edge of her napkin over her spotless mouth. “No.”

“Nothing at all?” Olivia said.

“No, nothing.”

“There hasn’t been any trouble or anything weird happening?”

Ellis returned her napkin to her lap. “Olivia, I think I would have heard if there was any trouble, and I’d rather you didn’t make me repeat myself again.”

Olivia sat back, slouching into her chair and grimacing at her food.

Axton said, “Did you expect there to be something going on, pumpkin?”

“In this perfect town,” she grumbled, “why would I?”

Apparently, the rest of the Oliversens were also aware of the rules. None of them took her bait.

Talk naturally began to revolve around the upcoming celebration since that’s what Mrs. Oliversen had been working on the most, and I was able to relieve Axton of some of his duties as “the grease that moves the wheel.” I had a lot of questions.

Nylah explained, “It’s the anniversary of when Craftborough was officially recognized as its own town, independent from the laws of the larger settlements around it.”

I’d never heard of another town taking a few days off to celebrate their founding.

“Was it that important?” I asked.

Ellis said, “In every other town in the colony, it was legal to kill us.”

Wow. Break out the sparklers.

“So why’s it called Besom Days?” I asked.

Olivia said, still sounding grumpy, “Besom is an old word for broom. Witches. Brooms. Now do you get it?”

I smiled at her and cocked my head. “Come to think of it, I’ve never seen a witch fly. Can you do it?”

Nylah scoffed. “With her handicap?”

“Nylah.”

My eyes darted over to Axton. That dark tone sounded so unlike him, I had to check that he was the one that had spoken.

He was staring hard at his step-daughter. She frowned and lowered her eyes.

Ellis said smoothly, “Only about half the witches trained today can fly. The ones that can don’t usually bother. Cars are much faster and easier to work with.”

“What’s the celebration like?” I asked.

“We usually take three days off, but since the festival falls on the weekend this year, we decided to give everyone Friday off as well.”

“It’ll be a welcome break!” Axton turned to his wife and raised an eyebrow. “You should consider adding another lazy day after the party to give everyone some time to recover.”

Ellis tried to give her husband a look that said his jokes weren’t welcome, but the smile she couldn’t completely repress said otherwise.

It was a strange moment. Mrs. Oliversen was beautiful and cold, but just for a second, I’d seen her soften. By the time she looked away from her husband, all the hardness was back.

“By Saturday,” she said, “most of the vendors and street booths will be set up. On Sunday there are games for the children and we set aside a special area for demonstration magic. On Monday, the day-of, there are some special performances and the whole night ends with a few fireworks.”

“What’s demonstration magic?” I asked.

“Magic tricks,” Axton said, “in every sense of the word.” He chuckled. “You can always tell the mundanes in the crowd. They gawk like fish.”

“And the witches are the ones standing there with their arms crossed, judging you,” Olivia muttered.

Ellis said, “You should take the chance to enjoy the street fair, Miss Cole, but I hope you and Olivia are planning on joining our family during the main celebration.”

I glanced at Olivia. Mrs. Oliversen must have seen it.

“Olivia did tell you about it, didn’t she?” Ellis said.

I shook my head.

When Ellis peered at her, Olivia said, “I wasn’t sure we’d be invited.”

Her mother corrected her: “You mean you weren’t sure you’d be here. You’re an Oliversen. Of course, you’d be invited.”

Olivia flashed a sour smile. “It’s good to know my name will get me in.”

Ellis’s jaw set, and Nylah opened her mouth—probably to say something about Olivia’s winning personality—but before she could, Axton said, “And your master is invited too. Be sure to let him know. I hear that he’s an important man. I bet our other guests of honor would enjoy meeting him.”

Olivia’s eyes moved between her parents. “What other guests of honor?”

Ellis sighed as she sat back in her chair. “Your father conned me into inviting a few other magicians to this year’s celebration.”

Axton waggled his eyebrows when Olivia looked his way.

Mrs. Oliversen went on, “He wants us to be ‘more a part of the larger magical community.’”

“Ellis, darling,” Axton said, “you make it sound like a curse. We can learn a lot from them—”

Mrs. Oliversen raised her hand to stop him. “You’ve already won, Rall.”

Axton grinned.

“So we’re not talking about the other covens?” Olivia asked.

“Why would I invite them?” Ellis said. “They come anyway.”

“They come to the street fair. They don’t usually wind up making it into one of your fancy parties.”

“One thing at a time,” Axton said. “I had enough trouble getting her to invite the other branches.”

Ellis put her napkin to the side of her plate. “Rall Axton, not even you could talk me into welcoming another coven’s Mistress.”

“In the meantime,” Axton said, without giving any sign that he’d heard his wife, “we’ve already got some high-mucky-muck sorcerer and an alchemist that have reserved a seat.”

“You might know some of them, Emerra,” Nylah said.

When I heard the unexpected hail, I glanced toward her. She was staring at me, challengingly, with a half-smirk on her face.

“When do they get here?” Olivia asked. Any grumpiness or attitude she’d been holding onto was gone.

“They’re probably already here,” Ellis said. “I’m giving two of them a tour of our town tomorrow. Saturday we’re having a small evening cocktail party here, and this Monday is the coven’s formal dinner party.”

I hoped no one saw me wince at the word “formal.” If I’d tried to cram my one set of semi-formal clothes into a duffel bag, the semi-immortal Count Vasil would have dropped dead of a heart attack. Especially after all he went through to help me find it.

Ellis continued, “I’m sure you think you’re doing something very important, Olivia, but whatever it is, I suspect it can do without you for a few hours, so you might as well come.”

A faint color rose under Olivia’s freckles.

Before she could answer, Rall Axton broke in.

“Please, pumpkin. I’d like you to come.”

Olivia made a face while looking at her plate. “I’ll try.”