After accidentally cursing his ex-boyfriend, a reluctant hero must complete a dangerous quest to undo his spell . . . all while falling for a brooding new crewmate with dark secrets.

Kieran has never had much luck in love or magic. Other than being freed from a family curse that would have killed him and doomed his twin sister, life isn’t going his way.

So, after getting put on notice by his boyfriend and accidentally writing a poem so bad (and magically hazardous) that it makes him invisible to the guy, <of course< Kieran returns home to find the Witches Council sitting in his living room, demanding he complete his magical training. Panicked, he blurts out that his Calling&mdash;a kind of magical thesis&mdash;will be to find a magical cure-all that can break any curse . . . an enormous task that he absolutely doesn&rsquo;t have the power to pull off.

Nevertheless, Kieran sets off on this dangerous journey, accompanied by his sister Briar, her girlfriend Delilah,&nbsp;and a swoony new crewmate, Sebastian. If he survives, he may just learn how to turn his luck around and figure out what kind of witch, person, and boyfriend he wants to be.

Autorentext

Kayla Cottingham (they/she) is a former teen librarian and New York Times bestselling author of sapphic horror and fantasy novels, including Practical Rules for Cursed Witches. Originally from Salt Lake City, Utah, Kayla lives in Boston, where they love to go hiking in the woods, play RPGs, and snuggle on the couch with their ridiculously large black cat, Squid.

Leseprobe
Chapter One

As the first snow of the year began falling on the golden city of Gellingham, Kie­ran Pelumbra was hours away from unintentionally upending the entire course of his life.

He, of course, wouldn’t have guessed that at the time. For him, it was like any other Friday since his move to Celdwyn’s capital city. He’d woken to the piercing ring of his alarm clock just before the sun rose, thrown on his wrinkled uniform, and shuffled off through the frigid air on his way to the Witch’s Brew Café. The morning rush had seemed endless; due to the café’s proximity to the Library of Curses, most of their clients were, predictably, witches.

None of them, however, was the witch Kie­ran was not-­so-­patiently waiting for.

As each new customer walked through the door, a silver bell rang overhead. Kie­ran couldn’t help but tear his attention away from the customer ordering to see if maybe, just maybe, a familiar face would appear. As the minutes ticked by, though, only the regulars and a few tourists stopped in. He examined the clock on the wall as the hands moved far too quickly toward nine a.m. That was the start time of said familiar face’s shift at the library, which meant that after nine hit, it was pretty much a guarantee he wasn’t stopping in.

When the clock’s arms landed on twelve and nine, Kie­ran let out a long, strained sigh.

“Is making a mocha really that much of a hassle?” the customer in front of him asked, incredulous.

Kie­ran jumped at the sound of the voice. “What? Oh—­no, I’m sorry. Just distracted. I’ll have that for you at the bar in just a moment.”

As Kie­ran turned to the espresso machine, his coworker, a blond woman in her early twenties named Sylvia, shot him a sideways look.

“Hoping Ash will come in?” she guessed.

Blood rushed to Kie­ran’s cheeks. It had been six months since Kie­ran started dating Ash Bartelle, an apprentice librarian at Gellingham’s famed Library of Curses. Their relationship hadn’t started in earnest until just after Kie­ran’s deadly family curse broke last spring, thanks to his best friend, Delilah Bea. After a brief period of travel around the country, Kie­ran, along with his twin sister, Briar, and Delilah, her girlfriend, had decided to move to Gellingham. For Delilah, it had meant the opportunity to become a professional cursebreaker. For Kie­ran, it had meant a chance at pursuing the handsome librarian he’d fallen for on their first trip to the city.

Everything had clicked into place. The first few months of dating Ash had been some of the most exciting of Kie­ran’s life. The boys had explored the city together, trying all kinds of new foods and checking out the historic sites Ash had such an intense love for. The relationship had been fun, and easy, and Kie­ran had looked forward to seeing it grow every day.

Until the summer ended, anyway. As soon as autumn arrived, Ash’s apprenticeship kicked back into full gear, taking up most of his free time. At first, they’d managed to still see each other. Their meetings were brief but enjoyable. But as the city grew colder, the stretches between meetings got longer and longer until . . .

Kie­ran loaded a scoop of ground coffee beans into the espresso machine, cranking it until it clicked into place. “He’s probably just trying to save money—­you know how it is. Apprentices don’t make much, and rent’s expensive.”

Sylvia’s lips pressed into a line. “Doesn’t stop all the other apprentices from stopping in every morning.”

Kie­ran opened his mouth to shoot some comment back at her, but then Sylvia turned on the frother, which let out a loud hiss as she dipped it into the milk. That, paired with the rumble of the espresso machine, made it too loud to do anything but watch the machines work. Espresso slowly began to spit into a small white cup, and the milk began to bubble and steam, giving off a warm aroma.

When the machines finished and the noise quieted, Sylvia asked, “When did Ash last come in?”

Kie­ran had to hold back a wince. “Oh, well . . . Lauren said he’s been coming in in the afternoons pretty frequently. He’s less busy then, I think.”

“In the afternoons . . . when you’re not working?”

Kie­ran turned even redder. “Maybe we could talk about something else? The closers haven’t cleaned the floors since Wednesday—­”

“Kie­ran, come on. While you stare at the door like a war widow waiting for a soldier who’ll never come home, I’m picking up the slack. I think I deserve a little honesty.”

“Honesty about what?”

“Face it, Kie­ran: He’s avoiding you, and it’s messing with your head. A lot.”

Kie­ran tensed. His stomach twisted, and bile crept up his throat. “No, he’s not. He’s just . . . got a lot on his plate.”

Sylvia cocked an eyebrow. “How long has it been since you last saw each other?”

Kie­ran flinched. The answer wouldn’t have been so hard to wrap his head around if he hadn’t been literally counting the days. Especially since one day had turned into three, then five, then a week, and then . . .

“A month,” Kie­ran admitted, forcing himself to focus on mixing thin curls of chocolate into the espresso and milk, melting them down the moment they hit the steaming liquid. “Give or take.”

“A month?” Sylvia repeated in horror. She shook her head. “Kie­ran, if someone you’re in a relationship with doesn’t talk to you for that long, it’s not a good sign.”

“So?” he shot back, tone more venomous than he’d intended. “Some couples just—­you know—­talk less than others. How often do you talk to Raya?”

“Every day,” Sylvia replied without missing a beat.

Kie­ran blinked. “Seriously?&…