“Assuming you could even pull something like that off—and given that the Blackmoores have been sweeping the Gauntlet since the town was founded, let’s say I have some reservations,” I started. “But even if I didn’t, what would be the point? Do you sincerely believe that blocking Gareth from becoming Thistle Grove’s magical mayor is going to cut him all that deep? He already has everything he could ever want. What’s another title on top of all that?”

Talia cocked her head like a disgruntled raven, leveling an incredulous stare at me.

“Seriously, Harlow?” she demanded. “I know you’ve been out of the loop for a while, but even you must know that Victor of the Gauntlet is much more than an honorary title. It increases the winning family’s magical power by magnitudes, even bends fortune to their favor. Not to mention the longevity perks. Gareth’s grandmother Igraine won fifty years ago, and she still looks like a silver fox snack.”

“Tal, ew.”

“What, Lin? It’s true.” Talia widened her eyes, looking downright delighted at Linden’s appalled expression. “The dowager Blackmoore—aside from being an awful soul-dead harpy—is remarkably well-preserved for a woman pushing eighty.”

“Moving right along,” Linden said, giving a little shudder, “look what the Blackmoores have done with all the centuries they’ve been winning. They’re multimillionaires, and absurdly strong witches to boot.”

“Exactly,” I pointed out. “Which makes their winning almost a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“But that’s the beauty of this plan,” Talia insisted, raking a hand back through the shining fall of her hair, her eyes glittering with conviction. “What Lin and I want to do is team up against them. Something that’s never been done before, not in more than three hundred years of Thistle Grove history.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back against the wheezing upholstery, narrowing my eyes at her. “I am the Arbiter, remember? I assume that entails cracking down on any cheating-type shenanigans. And I’m not sure two houses teaming up against a third qualifies as playing by the rules.”

“Just because it’s never been done doesn’t mean it’s forbidden,” Talia retorted, her lips curving with mischief. It was an extremely good look on her, much like most looks I’d seen so far.

“So says the morally ambiguous gray hat,” Linden interjected. “Though in this case, I’m compelled to agree with her, Em. I’ve pored over the Gauntlet rules and the fine print, and there’s just nothing in the Grimoire prohibiting alliances.”

“We’ve done our research, Harlow,” Talia pressed, leaning into my hesitation. “If it’s the Thorns, the Avramovs, and the Harlows against the Blackmoores, we might have a real shot at this thing.”

“You can’t really count the Harlows in,” I pointed out. “No matter how you’re envisioning me playing into this scheme, the whole point of an Arbiter is impartiality.”

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be part of this,” Talia argued. “For starters, your family’s been keeping records of this town’s magical history since its founding. There must be Gauntlet lore over at Tomes that you can dig into for us, if you’re down for it. I’m not suggesting anything underhanded. Just . . . a study guide for the challenges, if you will. To help me and Rowan prepare.”