"Ro, please, just wait a minute!" I called, trailing after him up the stairs. "I just want to be useful—to help you!"

He didn't answer until we reached our room and he'd shut the door.

"I thought you were different," he said over his shoulder with a coldness that stung. "I should have known better. You witches are all the same."

"I'm not!" I protested, increasingly desperate, as he strode to the window and threw it open again. "Ro, please just—"

He rounded on me, his yellow eyes bright and a sneer on his painfully handsome face.

"What? You'll 'never make me act against my will,' is that it? Save your breath. The only reason you could keep that promise before is because you didn't think you could break it, anyway. And the instant you have a smidge of power... Well, look what you do."

He shook his head, and the disgust on his face hurt more than a physical blow.

"Ro..."

He turned away abruptly, shoulders hunched as he leaned on the windowsill, long hair spilling over his left shoulder.

"Never mind. It's better this way; better we don't get attached. It's not like I'm really your familiar. I'm just your father's leftovers, here to clean up his mess."

He transformed in a heartbeat, and in another he was gone. I stared after him for some minutes, blinking back tears as regret and self-hatred stabbed me with every breath.

How could I be so stupid? Why hadn't I thought for two seconds before I blurted out the worst possible thing I could have said?

Eventually, I forced myself to go to bed, though I couldn't sleep. I lay awake, hoping Ro would come back once he'd cooled off and at least give me the chance to apologize; but daylight returned before he did.

I'd finally dozed off when the scrape of the window woke me, and I sat up to see Ro pulling it shut.

"I thought I told you to keep this locked," he said. His tone hadn't warmed, and I flinched.

"Sorry."

He glanced at me. "Don't apologize. For anything. You can't help what you are any more than I can. All I ask is that you try to stay alive until I've fulfilled my contract and you can free me. After that, you can sleep with the doors unlocked as you please."

He tossed something at me and I flinched again rather than catch it. A small red envelope landed in my lap.

"What's this?" I asked, picking it up.

"You're first 'assignment,' if you want it," he said, turning away and stripping out of his clothes before pulling back the covers and sliding into his bed. "The wedding of Lucian Drake's little sister, a week from now. Several Thrones will be there, including Lucian, of course. Cupcake Lady checks out, by the way. She's one of the caterers. Ask her if she needs help."

He rolled over, facing away from me, and pulled the covers up over his shoulders.

I opened the envelope and read the card inside. It was, as Ro said, an invitation to one Miranda Coppervale for the wedding of Demeter Drake and Gio Moretti, to be held at Lucian's estate the following Sunday at 5 PM. On the back of the card, in fine print, a number of businesses were listed as providing services for the event, one of which was Evangeline's Delights.

I glanced up from the card.

"Ro, I..."

He didn't exactly cover his ears and start humming, but the set of his shoulders made it clear he still didn't want to hear an apology.

Defeated, I set the card aside and got dressed. I had lessons with Janelle in a few minutes, and then a day of work in the shop. On my way out, I paused in the doorway and looked back at him. He hadn't moved, and I was pretty sure he was asleep.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "Thank you, anyway, Ro."

If he heard me, he gave no sign, so I left him and went downstairs.

❧

Getting Evangeline to let me come along and help her cater proved surprisingly easy.

I went over to her bakery on my lunch break, thanked her for the cupcake (which I hadn't actually eaten), made my excuses for not being able to buy a dozen more, and offered to help out if I could, to pay her back.

"Oh, gracious!" she exclaimed, waving a plump, pink-nailed hand. "It was a gift—of course you don't owe me for it. Giving is its own reward."

I bit my lip, pretending (or not pretending) to eye the lemon-flavored cupcakes arranged behind the glass display. They had little candied lemon-wedges nestled on clouds of yellow butter-cream icing on top.

"Well, if you ever need help with stuff..." I hedged awkwardly. "Like, carrying things, or taking out the trash... I'd take payment in cupcakes."

Behind her, a girl of maybe fourteen, with soft brown hair, large dark eyes, and a pale face, peeked out from the kitchens. Spotting me, she squeaked and disappeared.

Evangeline smiled fondly and sighed. "Sophie usually helps with that sort of thing," she said, "except for when I do catering. She's so shy, she stays a mink the whole time. Can't carry much, in that form. As a matter of fact..."

She looked at me, eyes narrowing.

"What are you doing this weekend? Sunday evening, specifically?"

My heart leapt with excitement, but I did my best to keep my expression neutral. "Nothing... I think."

"I've got a big job—a wedding—and I'd be happy for help, if you're willing. There'll be plenty of free cupcakes in it for you."

"Sure!" I agreed, trying not to sound too eager. "Just, um, tell me what to do."

"Great," she smiled. "Meet me here, Sunday at 3. In the meantime..." She gestured at the lemon cupcakes, "Take your pick."

❧

I shared the cupcake with Tobin and Kyrie. Luke couldn't eat it because it contained dairy, Janelle said she was on a diet, and Ro wasn't around and probably would have refused anyway—he hated citrus.

As I savored my portion of the treat, it occurred to me—like my certainty that he didn't like to be rushed—that I had no way of knowing this.

"Do witches and familiars have some sort of... mental bond, or something?" I glanced between my companions.

Kyrie looked up at me, licking a bit of yellow icing off her thumb. "Sometimes. It depends on the match. Why do you ask?"

"It's just..." I shrugged, struggling to find words to explain the feeling. "It seems like I know things about Ro. Things he hasn't told me."

Tobin's eyes widened, and Kyrie smiled, her bright white teeth contrasting with her dark skin.

"That is good!" she said. "It means you are compatible, and evenly matched. You will make a strong pair."

Tobin frowned. "But... I thought Ro wasn't gonna stick around, you know, after his contract's fulfilled."

Kyrie looked at me, her smile faltering. "He has not changed his mind, then?"

I scoffed and shrugged. "If anything, he's more eager to be gone than ever."

When neither of my companions spoke, I looked up and caught them sharing a troubled glance.

"What?"

Kyrie frowned. "It is only... if you already share such a link with him, that means he is forming a bond with your magic. This is how the familiar lends power and longevity to a witch. If the link becomes permanent, it will be impossible for you to release him."

"What?" I sat up straighter. "What do you mean?"

Tobin bit his lip. As always, his blond hair was a bit mussed, as if he'd been out in a strong wind, and his muscles stood out like an action-hero's beneath his t-shirt. His nerdy glasses made a strange contrast, as did the gentle sparkle in his blue eyes. "It's, uh... it's why witches and familiars bond for life, and why familiars are only freed when their witch dies or finds a more powerful familiar to bond with. Otherwise..."

Kyrie reached across the table and took my hand, her completely black eyes fixed on mine. "Ellie, if you link yourself to Ro, you can't release him without finding another to take his place, and there are very few familiars as powerful—to say nothing of more powerful—than he. And if you release him anyway... you will die."

I swallowed. "But... he must know that, right?"

Kyrie nodded. "Of course."

"Oh." I sat back and released my breath.

It made sense now; why he'd pushed me away so hard. He didn't want to risk us getting stuck together for the rest of our lives.

I didn't blame him.

"Be careful," Kyrie warned gently. "Right now, he's serving as your familiar—a placeholder, if you will—but you haven't linked your magic with his power, yet. As the connection between you grows, however, it may become harder to prevent—a powerful witch will draw a powerful demon like a magnet: and the stronger the witch, the stronger the pull."

I laughed, relieved, and ate the last bite of my cupcake slice—with the little wedge of candied lemon I'd been saving.

"Oh. Well, no worries then. Ro might be 'Prince of Darkness,' or whatever, but I'm just... Well, I'm nobody."

Tobin's brows pinched—just like a worried expression on a dog—but Kyrie only smiled and patted my hand.

"What will be, will be," she said, and left it at that.

❧

As the week passed, Ro and I developed a routine.

He left by the window each night, and I rose at dawn to train with Janelle. He'd return sometime during the day to sleep while I worked in the shop, and be gone again by the time I finished eating dinner with Tobin and Luke.

If I didn't have the proof all around me, I might think I'd imagined him altogether; and while I understood his reasoning a little better, now, the cold shoulder was starting to get to me.

"Energy shields are a vital tool of every witch," Janelle told me, bright and early on Saturday morning. "Maybe you've experienced it: you go out somewhere with a lot of people, and it feels like you're being pulled every which way. It's supposed to be fun, but you wind up exhausted, and it takes you a day to feel like yourself again. Sound familiar?"

I nodded. I'd long ago learned that if I was going to take part in any kind of social activity, I had to be ready for the fallout.

"You ever had one of those 'plasma ball' things as a kid, or you too young for that?" she asked. We sat cross-legged on her carpet in her living room, facing one another.

"I know what they are," I said, recalling the glass globes that seemed to be full of writhing electricity, attracted to the touch of a hand.

"Well, witches are sources of power, so we're like the globe. Regular humans have small sources of power, too—that 'life energy' within—and our own energy seeks it out naturally. Only, like water flowing from areas of most to least dense, we end up drained. The more people who have our attention, the more drained we end up. Shields let us contain and preserve our energy, so we don't wind up exhausted after a friendly get-together."

She shut her eyes, and I did the same.

"Now, tap into your core energy, and envision yourself surrounded by a globe of light. You can pick whatever color you see as being the most protective. Lots'a people go with white, since it's all the colors, but I like blue, myself. You see it?"

I did my best, and nodded.

"Good. Now, I'm gonna reach out and try to touch you—magically, that is—and you try to keep your guard up."

A low hum filled my ears, and—whether I imagined it or not—I concentrated on it, envisioning myself surrounded by an impenetrable pink bubble.

I'd just managed to see it in my mind, and could almost feel the tension of the shield around me, when it popped.

Startled, my eyes snapped open, and I jumped.

"Good first try," Janelle said, grinning. "Just gotta work on your visual imagery a bit. Bubblegum is supposed to pop."

She poked her finger at me as she said the last word, and I jumped again. She laughed, and I gave her a weak smile. She was right. There was so much tension in my 'bubble,' it was bound to burst—like an over-inflated balloon.

Her smile faded, and her expression shifted towards genuine concern.

"Hey—you doing okay, Ellie? I thought after a week here you'd be starting to perk up, but if anything, you look even more worn down."

I shrugged, not meeting her eyes. "I haven't been sleeping very well. I never do, in a new place."

That was true, though really I'd been waiting up for Ro, hoping for a chance to talk to him.

Janelle's smile returned, and she patted my shoulder before using me as an aid to get to her feet.

"Well," she grunted, pulling me up after her. "That Ro's an ornery old cat. Resists everything until the last. Just give him time. And practice that shield spell—I've a feeling you'll need it tomorrow. Lucian Drake doesn't pull his punches, and if he's hosting his sister's wedding, you can bet every witch worth his blessed salt will be there."

As it turned out, she wasn't wrong.