The story began, as many stories do, with a girl who bloomed too big for the space that the world had carved out for her.

Lily’s father, Frederick, was a spice merchant, a sailor who spent months overseas before docking at their harbor, and he began bringing home packets of seeds for her from faraway lands: poinsettias, African violets, birds of paradise. Whatever Lily planted bloomed, and her ever-changing gardens surprised and delighted the townspeople. As a whole, they were wary of magic, careful not to let it infiltrate their ranks, but surely there was nothing wrong with this kind of enchantment. It was only flowers, after all. And besides, flowers were profitable. Soon her father was importing plants and seeds from all over the world to sell to Lily’s many admirers. The townspeople’s flowers never seemed to grow the way Lily’s had, but they loved to try, and soon the family was one of the richest in town, moving the already-wealthy family to an even larger, grander home, with four fireplaces and a large outdoor area for the Bell family to host their summer garden parties.

The Bells’ parties were legendary, an invitation something to brag about, and at some time or another nearly every townsperson was invited. The only exception was a young woman named Thalia Gray. Thalia had grown up working alongside her mother on the outskirts of town in a small cottage that was visited only in secret by those who were desperate for a bone to heal or an argument to mend. The people were careful with the word “witch,” it had never served them well, so although they tiptoed around her, crossing the street to the other side when they saw her in town, they called her the town herbalist or, if they were being generous, the town healer. Thalia and her mother’s methods worked, but you didn’t want to admit it, and besides, she knew the town’s secrets. You didn’t want someone who knew all your secrets too close.

Lily’s success confounded Thalia. While Thalia’s and her bottles of tinctures and dried herbs were speculated about, her lifestyle shunned, Lily’s magic was prized, enjoyed. More than anything, the witch wanted to belong, to be prized. So day after day, she came to see Lily, stooped over her garden beds, and demanded that she tell her what spell she was using. Day after day Lily told her there was no spell. She could feel what the plants needed through her hands, and she did what they asked. It was as simple as that.

You’d think a witch would understand this kind of magic—the kind that came to you as naturally as a breath. But deep down the witch was like most people—she didn’t trust what she didn’t understand, and Thalia’s anger and resentment grew.

On Lily’s seventeenth birthday her parents threw her an elaborate garden party, a debutante ball, meant to announce her eligibility to marry. Thalia was passing by that night, her basket full of shellfish she’d gathered from the shore, and her heart ached as she caught sight of Lily dancing in a white dress among all those beautiful flowers, a suitor whispering in her ear. It wasn’t fair that some were born to be celebrated while others were born to be shunned.

Dropping her basket, Thalia made her way into the garden, then took to the middle of the dance floor. In front of all the guests she put a curse on Lily: Lily would never have the thing she truly desired, not now and not ever, and neither would her daughters.

The party guests laughed it off, but not Lily. She had seen the look in the witch’s eye. She knew about magic, and what was done was done.

Lily went into her house, dusted the earth off her satin shoes, and never touched her garden again. She couldn’t bear to be where the earth no longer spoke to her. Within the year she was married to a boy from the party, and her once-resplendent garden filled with basil and parsley, practical herbs that could be used to season a dish or calm a fever.

This was the beginning of the Bell family curse. From that day on, every Bell woman would know with a burning intensity the thing they wanted most, but not one of them would ever get it.

Or at least, that’s the way the story goes.

Find Thalia.