Razi

If there was one thing Razi Wood was sure of it was that rich people were the worst, especially if those rich people were witches. She would know because Honeyshore, the breezy port town in which she lived and worked, was full of them. It sat on the Ozelean coast and, as a port town that hosted a nationally respected coven, was a hub of trade and immigration. A mere week previous had seen the last of the rainy season, so today saw Honeyshore bustling and as lively as it ever was with ships coming into port with exotic goods and merchants selling local wares in the town square markets.

Razi, a strapping young woman of five and twenty, ducked through the crowds as she rushed towards her first destination of the day. If she’d paused to respectfully watch a pair of young women with their laundry baskets perched on their gods-granted shapely hips, she could hardly be blamed. It was rare she got to mingle in town during the daytime as she was usually busy back at the manor doing groundwork or repair work of some kind, but today? Today she had been asked to pick up a number of goods for her employer, Lady Sapphire Thorneheart, and Razi was going to make the most of it.

First thing first: Angela. Or rather, the dressmaker’s.

She dodged a horse and carriage and stepped into the small shop, her well-loved work boots clomping against its tile, and a little bell jangled to announce her entry. “Good mornin’, Angela!” she greeted with a small smirk tugging at her full lips, the one she knew made all her girls swoon. “Fancy meeting you here!”

The blonde woman behind the counter looked up from her work, some kind of embroidery, and greeted Razi with a grin. “Good morning to you too, tall, dark and handsome! Here for the Thornehearts?” Bolts of fabric and miscellaneous goods imported from distant cities surrounded her, but she in all her pink skirts and painted red lips was the only thing in the shop Razi had any personal interest in.

She leaned her elbow on the counter and pressed her calloused index to the pretty woman’s chin, dropping her voice to a low hum. “You’re so smart, how’d you guess?”

Angela rolled her eyes fondly and retreated. “Hang on,” she commanded before disappearing into the back.

The quiet store was a miniature version of the port; brightly lit, rustic stone walls and floors, and a hint of magic lingering about it; A needle darned socks independently in the back corner, glowing orbs the size of dinner plates floated throughout the room to light it, and the scent of baked apple pie floated delicately in the air. It was as old as the other buildings of Honeyshore, but it never seemed to leak during the stormy season. Razi wandered near a window and spied a rag wiping down glass panes in the tiny flower shop across the street. “Gotta get me one of those,” she muttered to herself before calling out, “Oi, Angie, your neighbours got new magic stuff?” 

“What?” was the confused reply, muffled by the thick velvet curtain separating the store from the back room.

“Your neighbour’s got a rag doing boring stuff for ‘em. It new?”

“Oh, that!” Angela said as she strained with something heavy. “Madam Downspire’s sent all the stores on the block some of those to test out. What d’you need a magic rag for?”

“Would rather do more interestin’ tasks, you know? I’d rather fix a leaky faucet or run errands than wipe a window. Might as well outsource to a magic item an’ save myself th’ elbow grease.”

Angela returned with two packages and hoisted them onto the counter with a grunt. One of the packages was a soft bundle wrapped in brown butcher paper and tied up with twine, the other was a sturdy black paper box with a removable red lid. “Is ‘running errands’ your fancy way of sayin’ ‘flirting with girls’? Where are you going next, the bakery or the winery?”

Razi flopped onto a chair across the room. “Gotta do my part, spread my good will an’ support th’ economy! Can’t disappoint Darcie and Liz, don’ be selfish.”

The seamstress grinned, made her way to her guest, and seized the opportunity to plop herself down in the muscular woman’s lap. “You’re so full of it.” She playfully touched a finger to Razi’s nose and stuck out her tongue. “Will I see you Friday night? At the pub?” She ran her hands through Razi’s short black hair, scratching at her buzzed sides.

Razi preened and let her hand play at Angela’s skirt hem while locking eyes with the woman in her lap. “Y’know I wouldn’t miss it, darlin’, not if it means missin’ out on you.”

Angela shook her head. “Charmer,” she was about to place a quick kiss on Razi’s cheek, but the groundswoman inched away.

“Nah, don’ want that,” she gestured to Angela’s lip paint, “all o’er my face. That stuff can’t be good for you.”

“I think you’d look good with a bit,” Angela teased.

Razi snorted. “You wan’ dress me up in your frocks too? Think it’d suit me?” She draped the woman’s pink skirt across her own knees, clothed in worn black canvas trousers tucked into steel-toed work boots, to demonstrate how entirely ridiculous the idea was.

“I don’t think this one’s your colour, Raza, and I don’t think my dress would fit you either, your arms are so…” She ran one of her hands over Razi’s dark, sculpted biceps. “But I’ll make you a matching suit, if you’d like.”

That sounded more up Razi’s alley. “Could do. I’ll need a suit for our weddin’, right?”

“Asking me to marry you again, Raza? What is that, the third time this month?” Angela giggled and placed a quick kiss on Razi’s lips before the woman could protest and stood to drop the packages in her lap. “But about Friday,” she said as she wandered back to her embroidery work behind the wooden counter. “You better come.”

Razi wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand and wiped it on her trousers. Why had she opted for sleeveless today? And where was her kerchief? Angela always pulled that trick, Razi should have seen it coming. “S’that why you want me hikin’ all th’ way down that hill? Could’a jus’ said so, you know I’ll come for you any time.”

“You’re terrible,” Angela reproofed with a scoff but her eyes settled squarely on Razi’s broad hands.

Razi stood up, gathered up her packages under one arm, and rested them on her hip. “I’ll be there, Bill owes me a drink.”

“Didn’t you cheat him out of it, Raza?”

“I would never.”

“Bullshit! What would Lady Thorneheart say?”

“I don’ think she cares ‘bout us wee plebs, darlin’. ’S long as there’s bread on th’ table and her carriage goes, I’ll be in ‘er good books.” The pair laughed and said their goodbyes, and Angela made Razi promise again to make an appearance on Friday. That kind of ego stroke was addictive, but Razi knew when to back off.

After all, she still had Darcie and Elizabeth and Maria to visit.

As she made her way through the streets, Razi wove in and out of the foot traffic, occasionally avoiding a carriage or wagon. There was more commotion than usual with the Thorneheart Heir Apparent returning home from school after three years. Or was it four? Sapphire Thorneheart had spared no expense to prepare her home for her Heir Apparent’s return which had meant new landscaping, new furnishings, a whole new wardrobe for her niece, even some of the books in the family library got re-bound several months ago. Some of those coven books were over a hundred years old and had curses on them. It was a lot of trouble for a journal, but it was a central piece of the coven’s history. Razi remembered the tirade Lady Thorneheart had assaulted the craftspeople with, and it still gave her the shivers.

Luckily, Razi didn’t have to directly interact with her employer often, but when she did it was a humbling experience. She was intimidating as hell, even if she was never anything but gracious to her own staff. Usually, she gave her orders to Gertrude, the household manager, who would distribute the tasks and chores for the day. Razi was usually in the kitchens or on the grounds, those broad shoulders of hers weren’t merely for show after all, and her occasional trips into town to run errands were always a nice change of pace. Working for rich witches had its benefits, she had to admit.

Razi rushed past store windows and fruit stands, dipping into the bakery to drop off next week’s order of grains and stopping by the winemaker’s to convey Lady Thorneheart’s request for the custom blend for the next full moon, before coming to her final and favourite stop, the pub. Normally she’d visit in the evenings, but today she was here on business. Passing through the well-worn door, the bell and squeaky floorboards announced her arrival.

The man behind the hardwood bar waved at her as he wiped the surface with a rag. He was an older gentleman, greying and homely, and he’d run the Mead and Magic Pub for thirty years, almost as long as Sapphire Thorneheart had been the coven’s leader. “Hey Wood,” he barked with his affectionately gruff voice, “here for the Thorneheart’s?”

A few men in the pub greeted Razi enthusiastically, and she nodded in their direction. “Hey boys. Hi Geoff. Yeah, I’m here for th’ thing, you got it?”

Geoff pulled out a small box from under the counter. “Yeah, it’s for the lady, for the next coven meet I hear. Hey, isn’t her niece comin’ back today?”

Razi nodded, sliding up to the bar, setting her burden on the counter. “Yeah, but not clear what the fuss is about, honestly. Just another silk-stockin’, I imagine. But hey, work’s work, right?

“For sure,” the man nodded solemnly. “What’s the girls name? Ferdinand? Faloma?”

“Frigga, I think.”

“Ah yeah, tha’s right, I remember her. She was sweet as silk that girl.”

“That’s not the saying, Geoff.”

The man laughed and Razi snickered along with him. “Got me there.”

Razi shrugged. “They’re all fine ’til you get to know ‘em, tha’s when you find out what kinda asshole they are. They’re all assholes at the end of the day, am I right?” She gestured to the other patrons, rewarded with a “hear, hear” and a “cheers” along with some wolf whistling and Razi chuckled before turning back to Geoff victoriously.

“Assholes what pay you,” Geoff said with his tone of friendly disapproval, “and half of town.”

Razi deadpanned at him. “The ol’ lady made me fix th’ carriage after tha’ last rain. Downright nasty, should be gettin’ a raise, mark my words. And I had to redo the hedges that got put in las’ month that I was so sure was right, but no, ‘parently not. Those lavender bushes were gorgeous so I’m bit bitter about it, gimme a break.”

He nodded with sage understanding. “Fair, fair. Anyway, Wood, can we expect y’on Friday? George and the other guys were saying they wanted to do poker night again.”

“After last time I’da thought they’d reconsider.”

“You know George, never knows when t’ quit.”

“William owes me, I think Jack does too. I’m not gon’ make it home in one piece, I think. I’ll have t’ sleep under the table I’ll be so sloshed.” Razi winced at the prospect of making the twenty minute uphill walk in such a sorry state. She’d do it if only to prove a point, but she wouldn’t enjoy it.

“You comin’?”

Razi sighed and made a big show of it. “Yeah, I guess. Angela’s already demanded I make an appearance.”

The man’s expression turned soft and his voice did too. “Never could say no t’ that woman, eh? You ever gon’ marry her?”

Razi shrugged and rolled her eyes at the old man’s presumption. “Nah, but she’s sweet on me, so I can’t jus’ break her heart, right?”

“Hers an ev’ry other single lass of your persuasion in town, Wood.” He chuckled lightly and then playfully waved his rag in her direction. “Off with ye, shouldn’t be late for homecomin’.”

Razi added the last package to her bundle, grinning at his remark. “Thanks a lot, see you Friday!”

She walked to Thorneheart Manor from town, and her arms tired from hauling her goods. That was her own fault; she’d declined a ride in the house’s carriage earlier, opting to take her time and enjoy some peace and quiet on the walks to and from. This time of year after the rains was the best; the green fields burst with wildflowers, a crisp breeze swept in from the sea, and it was warm enough that Razi didn’t need to bother herself with layers. She even left her regular work jacket at home, this morning had been particularly warm and Razi was soaking it up.

It wasn’t long before she returned to Thorneheart Manor, the estate where she worked and lived. The home was one of the largest in Honeyshore, save for the coven’s benefactors. Most of the coven’s nine families lived in town, but the Thornehearts lived just outside it in exactly the type of home that befit such a powerful family. The house itself was three stories high, made of the white stone that only the best-made buildings in town were made of, and was surrounded by fields, walks and ponds with a forest bordering the property. Inside, the walls were white as were the marble floors, and the many large windows ensured the home was always brightly lit. The lady of the house had bouquets of flowers brought in to adorn every surface, so now it smelled like spring inside as well as out. Frigga’s room had been redone too, updated with new linens and furniture. She hadn’t been there for nearly four years and would be an official adult at the end of next month. It needed to be fit for someone on who so many expectations would be placed. Apparently. What that had to do with the wallpaper getting updated, Razi wasn’t sure. “Something something, only the best for my Heir, something or other, Frigga will love it,” the old lady had said. Whatever.

Razi had been on staff before Frigga had gone away to school, but she hadn’t interacted with the heiress at all. The girl was a bookworm, opting to stay in the library most afternoons, and Razi had always been in the kitchen at the time. She didn’t expect that to change; Razi had since graduated from the kitchens to the grounds for the most part and, as far as she could tell, being a scholar was a prerequisite for these witches so Frigga likely wouldn’t be outside much. Razi hadn’t made up her mind to dislike the girl (woman? How old was she?), but in her own experience the more magic met money, the larger the stick up the ass was. Thankfully, Razi didn’t have to mingle with the family much being the work horse so she could focus on her chores and her own business. It was good money and a stable life, so if she was serving bread to some spoiled witches it wouldn’t affect her sleep at night.

Not that she wasn’t a little curious. Clearly Razi was not immune to the guile of a pretty girl, so there was that, but she wasn’t as enthusiastic as most of the other ladies on staff. Gertrude was ecstatic about Frigga’s return and would go on and on about how she was excited to see how the girl had grown into a woman and whatever. She was expected home that afternoon, maybe even within the hour, which meant the servants of the home were scrambling to get the place ready to welcome their newest resident back home.

When Razi returned with her parcels, the house was bustling with last-minute preparations being completed and it sparked her curiosity. It might be interesting to have another person around, even if it wasn’t likely to affect her much. Maybe her presence would tame Doris’ rabid gossiping and give that ridiculous woman something to do, that would be worth the added work on its own. But probably not, the woman was a menace.

She dropped off the packages to their respective recipients before making her way into the kitchen. Razi would be off work in a few hours, she always worked the early morning shift for bread reasons, and she would spend the rest of her day getting the family dinner together and dealing with kitchen inventory if there wasn’t any major tasks to be done. Just another ordinary day. Would the returning witch want tea? That was more Doris’ responsibility, but Razi put a kettle on to boil anyway.

As she carried out her inventory survey, the distant sound of a carriage rattled and excited whispers shivered through the house. Gertrude and Doris bolted out of the kitchen at speeds previously unseen to greet the newest addition. It wasn’t mandatory for staff to greet Frigga, but curiosity got the better of Razi so off she went to sneak a peek at all the commotion. Maybe she was cute.

The kitchen was tucked near to the main entrance and staircase, and Razi leaned on the kitchen’s doorframe to see what she wanted but stayed out of the chaos. Doris and Gertrude stood alongside a few other staff members at the foot of the staircase, chatting quietly amongst themselves.

The door opened, and Frigga was home.

She was a lot shorter than Razi had expected, hadn’t grown a single inch during her time away, and was full around the centre with narrow shoulders. Her fiery curls were tucked into a practical yet elegant braid behind her, her charming smile lit up her rosy freckled skin, and she giggled as Gertrude attacked her with hugs. She was pretty tired, travelling does that Razi supposed, but even so Frigga asked about Gertrude’s husband and daughter and after Stephan’s cat. It was nice to see a noble remember such details about staff members as it was rare aristocrats gave a shit about anything other than themselves.

Razi could see what the fuss was about then. Frigga seemed sweet, and she was pretty cute, but the groundswoman had enough excitement so she silently returned to the kitchen. That pantry wasn’t going to count itself.

Frigga

Frigga was so happy to be home and so ready to sleep in her own bed. The staff being excited about her return warmed her heart and she put down a mental note to check in with everyone over the course of the next week. Leland and Sapphire greeted her outside as she’d gotten off the carriage, but she’d circle back and visit with both of them in a bit; she wanted some quiet time first. Travelling from Bluehaven to Honeyshore was an easy road if one was used to travelling, but Frigga was certainly not so the three-day journey home had been tough.

Doris, the woman Sapphire hired to be her niece’s personal attendant, showed Frigga to her room. It had been redone since she’d been away. It used to be pink and white, but the wallpaper had all been replaced with a light blue floral print that made Frigga think of a inn she’d patronized on her way home. Her king-sized lavender duvet had also been replaced with a royal blue that matched the pillows on the bench near her windows. At least her reading nook was still there. The rest of the furniture had been either updated or replaced with tasteful, grown-up selections that made Frigga feel as if she were looking at a textbook about interior design. She got the feeling her aunt was making a much bigger deal out of her return than necessary, but it was nice to feel welcome.

Frigga took off her jacket and shoes, placed them by the dressing table for Doris to put away, and looked out the window. It overlooked the driveway and west side of the grounds. It was newly manicured and Frigga looked forward to getting down in that dirt. She wanted to throw off all her clothes and roll around in the grass right that instant, but she was entirely sure that wouldn’t be appreciated by her aunt. Still, Frigga took note of all the plants visible from her window before falling onto her bed for a lie down.

Doris, a woman with thick brown hair tucked into a bonnet and a figure shaped like a pine tree with the height to match, came in to check on her a few times over the course of the afternoon, bringing tea and light refreshments early on, and Frigga found her attendant well-informed about the comings and goings of the coven’s families. Suspiciously well-informed, even for a servant. The woman updated her about how the coven families had fared during her time away, and Frigga was eager to see everyone again after three and a half years. She wondered how her friend Luna Cromwell was doing, she’d gotten married two years ago, and how much the youngest Heir Apparent, Celeste Downspire, had grown. Leland had grown up too. He was eight already, just last month had been his birthday. He’d been just under four when she left, a lifetime ago it seemed now. She wanted to catch up and get to know her brother, so she’d go and visit him properly after dinner and then report in with her aunt afterwards.

Frigga took dinner in her room and then walked down the hallway, peeking into Leland’s room. He was pale and freckled like she was, and his mop of curls were the same rusty hue. Someone had already changed Leland into his nightclothes, though he wasn’t at all ready for sleep. He excitedly showed his newly returned sister all his favourite toys and a few small figures that had been whittled for him by one of the servants. A bear, a cat, some of them were better than others, but it was sweet how the boy lined them all up with care on his bedside table. He’d even named a few of them (Antonio the cat and Lopez the stag). Frigga was relieved to find that her little brother was a normal, happy kid; when she had been his age she knew she was destined to be the family’s Heir as she was the sole child in her generation at the time. Having been exclusively raised by their aunt, Frigga worried how Leland would end up, but apparently she doted on Leland and didn’t push him like she did Frigga.

It helped that Leland wasn’t a witch, or not that they knew yet. Usually children with magic would show signs of the gift around the age of five or six, Frigga had been four, but it wasn’t unheard of that children as old as nine were confirmed. Leland didn’t seem to feel bad about his lack of magical gifts, for which Frigga was profoundly grateful. She was twelve years older than him, and the two of them hadn’t been close before Frigga went to school, but she loved him and wanted him to feel safe and secure.

She sat with him for about an hour before leaving to visit with Sapphire. Despite his squawks of protest, she kissed him on the top of his head before walking down the next hall to the private office and generous library. As she walked down the halls, Frigga took note of other changes her aunt made to the manor. The carpets had been replaced, the torch sconces were changed too and were slimmer and looked less like a haunted castle. A few of the console tables had ornate vases filled with flowers that freshened up the house, and though it was dark outside the hallways were lit with new light orbs that floated leisurely about near the ceilings. If Frigga remembered correctly, weren’t those an invention of Lady Mildred Crestfall, the Head of Household who specialized in elemental magic, from a few years back?

She knocked on the office door and was invited in. Sapphire rose from her desk to greet her niece and the two embraced in a warm hug. “Auntie, thank you for refreshing my room,” Frigga said, figuring that it was better to be gracious than complain. She had actually preferred the light, cheerful pinks from before, but blue was the family colour and it was more grown up, so it was probably more suitable this way. 

Sapphire was taller than Frigga by about a head, everyone was taller than Frigga, and she was the very picture one might imagine when thinking of the word “noble”. She’d gone grey early in her forties, shortly after she’d become the coven’s leader, and her wavy hair was always kept in a low bun. Sapphire had an entirely different complexion than her charges, still fair but evenly toned, and her skin was soft like down. “I’m glad you like it, Dear,” she replied, her voice warm. “Welcome home. Here, let’s sit down and have the ladies bring up some fresh tea.”

They sat in a pair of firm brocade armchairs beside the fireplace on the right side of the room and there was a small chestnut tea table between them for just this kind of occasion. Soon enough, they were provided with a fresh pot of herbal tea. Spearmint with honey was exactly the brew Frigga had needed, the refreshing scent clarified her mind. Once they were comfortable, Sapphire started business talk, and her tone refined into something more clinical. “I want you to feel settled, but there’s a lot to come in the next few months. Next week we have your welcome home party and then the week after we have Zeus Cromwell’s. I’ve also been expecting new study material to arrive any day, it should have been here last week but it was delayed by the thunderstorms.”

Frigga nodded. “That’s alright, there’s plenty here to get me started. I’m excited to see the coven, I’ve missed everyone! And I’m excited to share my illusion work with them.”

“I’m sure everyone is excited to hear all about it. I was speaking with Marceline the other day, and she was saying Luna was interested in your work. As my Heir Apparent, I expect you to share your knowledge, though, if I might make a suggestion,” she leaned in with a conspiratorial smirk, “I would keep a few secrets to yourself if I were you.”

Frigga tilted her head. “Why?”

Sapphire chuckled. “It’s always smart to have a few tricks up your sleeve, especially as you won’t be made an official coven member for four months yet. Best have a few last-resorts just in case you need to impress somebody.” Sapphire sipped at her tea before continuing. “Theodore is also going to be visiting tomorrow, possibly with Marcus. You remember him right?”

“Yes, of course!” she said, smiling warmly. Marcus Magnus-Monroe was a few years older than her, but he was a social savant so they’d become friends as soon as he’d returned home from school five years ago. They also attended dance classes under the same tutor, though never in the same group. “Is Theodore coming on business or for a personal visit?”

Sapphire sipped at her tea and set it down. “A bit of both. His letter said he was excited to see you again, but he also wanted to contribute to your party next week, generous man.”

The Thornehearts and Magnus-Monroes descended from the same coven founder, although distantly, but the Magnus-Monroe family hadn’t been able to officially be part of the coven for about one hundred years; The family’s magic had died out shortly after the coven was founded. It was around that same time, however, that a mine the family owned a few towns over struck literal gold so they were still intimately connected with the group. They could have regained entry into the coven by marrying into magic and revitalizing the family’s magical potential, but the family favoured genuine connections over political ones where their personal lives were concerned so it hadn’t happened. Magic or not, Frigga was always delighted to have them around, Marcus in particular. She had truly missed his uncomplicated friendliness and cheerful affect.

Sapphire asked her niece about her time at school in more detail. They’d written often, but only so much fit in a letter. Frigga told her all about her studies and how she’d graduated top of her year. She told her aunt about her favourite classes (Illusion Work and Herbalism), about the connections she’d made (though she left out the intimate nature of her relationship with the mayor of Elderburgh’s daughter), and what she was excited about studying further (celestial summoning and the family’s secret curative recipes). She was filled in further about the coven’s different families, how the children were growing up, and who’d married who. She was grieved to hear that Jun Bloodswell, the Bloodswell Head of Household’s husband, had died a year ago leaving behind Victoria and their Heir Rosalind. Considering the Bloodswells and Thornehearts were not on the best terms historically, not to mention Victoria was specifically on grievously bad terms with Sapphire, Frigga made up her mind to put in some extra attention there when she could. Some kindness might help mend the sore spot.

They talked longer than Frigga had expected, and it was such a lovely evening. Even so, a small knot of anxiety began to knit in her stomach; she loved her coven, but it was a lot to keep track of. She was doubly exhausted by now, so she took the clock’s 9:00 chime as her cue to retire. After one more quick hug, Frigga adjourned to her room. She wasn’t a morning or night person, she was happiest and most energetic in the afternoon, but it was still a bit earlier than Frigga usually went to bed. Into bed she went, however, delighted to finally collapse. With the busy days ahead of her, she would need the extra rest. Doris left a glass of fresh water at her bedside and a night dress out for her to change herself into, though help was easily summoned if needed. She usually had help dressing, but Frigga was so tired she decided to do it herself. Unlike her day-to-day clothes, the sleep dress was simple enough that she could easily slip into it, it was undressing and undoing all the laces that was the difficulty. After laying the day’s clothes out on the dressing table to be taken and cleaned, she slid the fresh cotton sleep dress over her shoulders and savoured how comfortable and soft it was. She then slid into bed, cast a spell to extinguish all her lights, and fell asleep instantly. 

She didn’t sleep through the night. She fell asleep easily but woke up at 2:00 and then again at 3:00. At 5:30 she woke from a nightmare so severe that she decided it was worth a trip to the kitchen to clear her head. There wouldn’t be anyone there at this hour, she would have to find some milk or soothing tea for herself. It might be difficult to find anything, Frigga had rarely visited the kitchens before she’d gone to school, so finding something would be a chore. At least it would be a distraction from the recurring bad dreams.

She put on her slippers and lacy house coat, tying it at the waist, and slipped out the door and down the stairs. As Frigga walked to the kitchen, she mentally sorted through what she remembered of it and was confident she’d manage on her own, but when she opened the door she found she wasn’t alone.

In the midst of the kitchen stood a tall woman Frigga vaguely recognized with sepia skin and black hair shorter than most men’s. She wore an old, stained apron over simple worker’s clothes and her trousers were tucked into steel-toed boots with the stretched-out raggedy laces tied around each ankle. Apparently she’d been gathering up ingredients and baking tools from different cabinets when the heiress surprised her. She stood between the industrial stovetop and a substantial island, and she’d brought out one of two stools from its place at the counter’s opposite side.

Frigga wanted to shrink back but she’d already been spotted. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know anyone was here!” she apologized, her hand rising to fiddle with the thin golden chain necklace she wore.

“No no! Come on in, Miss. You alrigh’?” The woman looked at Frigga, a soft concern in her eyes, and put her things on the island.

Frigga’s heart rate spiked, but she cautiously approached. The woman was quite broad and, while she was wearing loose-fit clothing to get messy in under the apron, Frigga noticed she had the most gorgeous sculpted shoulders and deliciously defined arms. Must be really good at baking bread. “Y-yes, I had a hard time sleeping.”

“Tha’s rough,” the woman replied as she pulled the other stool out and brought it to the island’s edge nearest to Frigga before turning back to the stove where a kettle had begun to sing. “Come on, I’ll make you some tea or somethin’.” She took it off the heat, pulled out a calming tea from a nearby cabinet, and began fixing it like she’d performed this ritual a hundred times; scoop the tea leaves from an air-tight tin into a basket, place the basket into a mug, and submerge it with the steaming water.

Frigga wandered over to the stool and hopped onto it, fumbling slightly, but the woman politely ignored her misstep. “Thank you. Razi, right?” She leaned her elbows on the island’s top as she watched the servant work.

A look of surprise jumped onto the taller woman’s face. “Must ‘av a good memory, you were gone a while.” Her voice was confident and playful, and Frigga’s heart skipped a beat.

“Your father worked for us, right? I think?” she asked.

Razi measured out a small spoonful of honey and stirred before placing the cup of honeyed chamomile next to Frigga on the corner of countertop between them with an impressed smile. “Wow, correct again. Here you go.”

“Thank you.”

“Careful, Miss, ’s pretty hot.” Razi leaned in and blew softly over the glass. She was so close. Her lashes were as long as a river and an aura of warm ambers and the sweetness of rum and vanilla surrounded her. She smelled amazing. “Lemme guess, nightmares?”

“W-what?”

Razi smirked before turned to fix herself a much stronger cup of tea. “You looked like you’d seen a ghost an’ only crazy people are up this early if they don’t gotta be.”

Frigga’s brain finally restarted and she blinked. “Oh,” she said intelligently.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry, Miss.”

“No it’s not that. But yes, I’ve had them ever since I was small.”

Razi pulled up another stool closer to the witch, her own cup of tea in her hands, and sat a respectful distance away. A little too far for Frigga’s taste. “Don’t they got a spell or potion for tha’? You magical types seem t’ ‘av remedies for everythin’, and they say you’re real gifted.”

Frigga looked down into her mug as she felt her cheeks warm. “I don’t know about that. I think people give me too much credit sometimes.”

Razi smiled slyly over the rim of her mug. “Well, y’seem like the gods’ gift to me.”

Frigga laughed and looked at Razi with a mischievous grin of her own. “Did you come up with that one yourself? Are you proud of it?”

Razi’s smile turned into a bashful grin. “I’ve certainly come up wit better, you’re absolutely right. Three for three.”

Frigga took a sip, careful of its temperature but found it perfect. “There are some things you can do for nightmares but… none of them ever help. I’m always stressed out so whenever I do anything for sleep, magical or not, the nightmares are never gone long.”

“Stressed? ‘Bout what?”

Frigga gestured vaguely towards the rest of the house. “All… this.”

Razi faltered and her eyes narrowed slightly. “Isn’t it what you love?”

“It’s a lot.” Frigga sighed as her gaze fell to the floor.

Razi leaned her elbows on the counter and looked Frigga up and down, letting a small beat pass. “I’da never known. You seem th’ type t’ have everything lined up proper.”

Frigga grimaced. “I haven’t a choice. I have to have everything perfect all the time because people rely on me. My aunt makes sure I know that, but,” she looked past Razi to the window where the forest was barely visible in the early morning sunlight. “I would much rather go outside.”

Razi blinked, her eyes flashed to the door and then back. “Outside?”

Frigga looked back at Razi. The woman’s full lips were slightly parted and she had the loveliest hazel eyes. Oh dear, that wasn’t something she should be noticing about a staff member. “Plants make me happy.”

“Isn’t your family all ‘bout the moon’s timing and circles? Th’ boss always has me rearrangin’ furniture to be ‘in phase’ or whatever.”

Frigga shrugged, tearing her eyes away from Razi’s. “Yes, and it has always come naturally to me, but it was never… Sorry, I don’t mean to bore you.” Her cheeks were even warmer now, and Frigga prayed that she wasn’t blushing.

“No s’fine. I guess I get it.”

Frigga tilted her head, unsure what this unnaturally attractive woman was relating to. “Really? You appear to be at home in the kitchen here, is there something you’d rather do?”

Razi snickered and Frigga tried to restrain a grin. Another terrible joke was coming, she just knew it, so she held her breath in anticipation. “I won’t complain, things are great round ‘ere, but it does get lonely ‘round this mansion. I gotta go into town if I wan’ visit my girls, so, y’know, that’s what I’d rather… do.”

Frigga giggled, shook her head. “No wife? Or, I guess not a husband?”

Razi shook her head. “Do I look th’ type to cater t’ boys, Miss? I expected better from you, you’ve ruined your streak!”

Frigga grinned shyly. “I didn’t want to assume.”

Razi leaned in a little closer, and the woman’s spicy aura washed over her again. “Assume away.”

Frigga hesitated, looking Razi up and down briefly. Her eyes skirted over the woman’s biceps and shoulders, appreciating them again, and she landed on the woman’s hands. They were so much larger than Frigga’s, and the witch could see from here they were the servant’s primary tools. What else might those hands be used for? Frigga forced her eyes away before she could be caught staring, but she was certainly blushing now. “I assume you like to bake bread?”

Razi burst in a full-bellied laugh, caught off guard. “Ah yes, look at ‘er, that cut and short nails, must love to bake bread. 'S that what they’re calling it these days?” Frigga giggled and Razi shook her head in good humour. “Please ignore me, Miss. I don’t mean t’ offend. I like t’ think I’m ‘armless.”

Frigga smirked and side-eyed Razi. “I don’t believe you at all. Should I ask your girls how harmless you are?”

Razi jumped off the stool and took an exaggerated bow, her expression much too serious to be serious. “I am as innocent as th’ dove, sweet princess. Heart is pure as gold, I swear, my maidens in ye olde town of Honeyshore would speak highly of my intentions!”

Frigga tried in vain to suppress a laugh, though she managed to tease between giggles, “Those intentions better be noble or else there will be consequences, ma’am.”

Razi looked back up at Frigga with a boyish smirk. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Miss.”

She held out her hand. “Call me Frigga.”

Razi took it up with her calloused hand and pressed her full, soft lips to the witch’s knuckles. “Frigga.”

She wanted to stay and talk to Razi longer, but she also wanted to be considerate of the woman’s time and Frigga had a suspicion she’d be a distraction if she stayed. The tea she’d been given helped, so she wandered back up to her bedroom. As she slid back under her covers, she replayed their conversation and smiled to herself. If she had known someone so gorgeous was going to be at home she would have made a better effort to visit. She brushed her lips at the place where Razi’s had kissed her hand and heard the rough woman’s voice repeating her name. Frigga’s heart did a flip and her stomach tingled. She shouldn’t be entertaining these impulses.

But Razi was charming and thoughtful, had made Frigga laugh and not taken her too seriously. The irreverent humour had put Frigga at ease, even if she suspected the woman had been buttering her up just a little bit. She was definitely the type to be popular with girls, that was obvious. Maybe Razi wouldn’t mind spending more time together. Could Frigga come up with some excuse to see her again? That was such a bad idea. Really? She couldn’t be home a single day without forming some ill-advised crush on a staff member? A very lovely, very muscular, very charming staff member. 

It was a lost cause already.

Frigga pushed a pillow over her face and whined into it. Maybe this horrifyingly inappropriate crush would fizzle after Frigga got settled and die down on its own.

But it did not, in fact, die down.