“I think you just need time and practice,” she replied. “I could see how hard you were all working just then, and putting the work in is the most important part. Instead of growing up having fun with your power and befriending magic, you’ve been taught to be afraid of it, to be afraid of mistakes and accidents, so right now, your power is in control of you rather than the other way round.”

No one spoke. Mika could see they were doubtful.

“The thing is, being a witch is extraordinary,” she said. “It might seem sometimes that all we are is odd and different, but the truth is, we’re amazing. We’re part of the earth below us and the sky above us. Our veins echo the patterns of rivers and roots. There’s sunlight and moonlight in our bones.” Heartened by the smiles that had started to light Rosetta’s and Altamira’s faces, she went on: “It’s always a good idea to be cautious and respectful when you use a powerful force like magic, but you don’t have to be afraid of it. That’s why you practice. With practice, you’ll lose your fear and gain the confidence you need.”

“You can’t know that,” Terracotta said.

“I do know that,” Mika said simply. “Because the three of you have something incredible to help you. You have each other.”

As he watched part of the children’s first lesson from the kitchen window, Ian was positively quivering with delight. As he watched Ian, Ken sighed. He was only too familiar with the warning signs.

“Ian,” he said, calmly and sensibly and, he knew, entirely pointlessly. “Do not.”

“What can you possibly mean, my darling?” Ian asked, turning wide, innocent eyes on his husband.

Ken scoffed. “I know what you’re thinking.”

Ian cracked. “It would be perfect,” he gushed.

“Ian,” Ken groaned. “You don’t know if poor Mika even likes men.”

At this, Lucie, who was seated at the table with her laptop and entering the latest household budget figures into a spreadsheet, looked up in alarm. “Don’t you dare,” she said. “Mika didn’t come here to be roped into one of your ridiculous attempts to play matchmaker! Jamie will skin you alive. Don’t you remember what happened last time?”

Ken grimaced. He remembered. Vividly. Four years ago, Ken had injured his knee and Ian had persuaded him to hire a sweet, enthusiastic girl as a temporary gardening assistant. Lizzie had only been with them for a week before Ian, the world’s worst matchmaker, had locked her in the barn with Jamie and hoped sparks would fly. Jamie had promptly broken the skylight, gotten them both out, and politely (well, politely for Jamie, anyway) asked Lizzie to leave, with a month’s pay. He hadn’t spoken to Ian for days after that.