Page 46 of Disenchanted

Sage hadn’t noticed her brother’s left hand was wrapped in a bandage. Robin shrugged. “It’s nothing. The axe—a bloody great gold thing, totally impractical—came down harder than I was expecting. Almost took my fingers off, but…”

Sage snatched at his wrist to examine the bandage. “Rob, are you serious? That could have been terrible.” That made all three of them now—Rob, Laurel and Casimir—injured by this stupid spell.

“No big deal, honestly. Just a couple of nicks. No worse than I’ve done with my electric tools before. Anyway, I feel fractionally better now that I see the spell has taken everyone under its wing,” Robin said, eyebrows shooting up as Shirley twirled past him peddling a tray of gingerbread animals. “Hang on…How come you don’t have to wear anything stupid?” he asked Sage, aghast that she was still in her usual high-waisted brown trousers with a smart pin-striped blouse tucked in.

She had been wondering the same thing herself all day, and a strange impatience was growing. Everybody else was being taken into the spell’s embrace and given a (supposedly) fun transformation as part of the celebrations. Not that she wanted a ludicrous costume, but thanks to Robin’s observation, in the blunt way that only a brother can deliver, Sage suddenly felt extremely self-conscious and very out of place.

“I did add a ribbon to my hair,” she grumbled, suddenly cursing the silly gold bow that she had asked Maggie to tie for her especially for the celebrations. It had felt suitable at the time. What a stupid idea that was. Even at the hands of a spell that celebrated magic itself, that encouraged the embrace of joy and whimsy above all else, she stuck out like a sore thumb, and for once, it wasn’t even down to her own bad mood. It was thoroughly unfair of the spell to leave her out. For all her faults, Sage always made sure that no one ever felt left out. She was too familiar with the feeling to allow it for anyone else.

The Dap was heaving. The noise level was wild and raucous, and, sensing her hackles shoot up at the heat and bustling atmosphere, Sage tried her best to make a swift exit as soon as they stepped inside. There might as well have been a revolving door put in for her. As always, Casimir determinedly encouraged her to enjoy herself and took her by the shoulders to guide them through the crowd towards their usual spot.

But their booth was nowhere to be seen. Instead, long wooden tables stretched right through the pub, all laden with platters of roasted meats, bread, cheese and overflowing jugs of amber liquid.

“Since when does everyone drink mead? What even is mead?” Casimir asked as they shoved their way through, shedding their coats and cloaks as quickly as possible in the stuffy heat. There was a distinct smell of…animal. Sage shuffled past Bridgey, who, like everybody else in town, was seemingly unaware of anything being remotely amiss. She had an arm slung around Ron the landlord, who was sloshing around a foamy tankard while she shook a tambourine mid-song.

“I’m in hell,” Sage said flatly.

“No, you’re not,” Casimir said into her ear with a laugh. “Look, there’s cheese! There wouldn’t be cheese in hell.”

Between the riotous cries, the loud singing, the arm wrestling and even the very passionate bar fight which broke out near the wall of ale casks, they managed to find four spare stools and dragged them into the quietest corner.

“So, you said the next charm is a little mirror?” Laurel asked, who had made a pitstop for s’mores at the bonfire on her way to the pub. She stretched a gloopy marshmallow as far as she could before squashing it between her fingers again and popping it into her mouth. Sage marvelled at how rarely she saw her sister eat anything savoury. “And when you reach the last one on the bracelet, the spell will call it a day?”

Casimir shrugged. “That’s our assumption. I think it’s a solid one.”

“All good spells end at twelve,” Laurel said with a nod of approval.

“The troll practically told me as much. Footsteps, cauldron…Keep walking through the steps of the spell and you’ll reach the mirror,” Sage said, picking at the crumbly cheese that was on the board in front of them next to some sort of miscellaneous roasted animal leg, which looked considerably less appetizing. “Does anyone have any theories regarding the mirror? It would make me feel considerably better if we knew what to expect as our next chapter.”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Laurel replied, having already moved on to her bag of candyfloss for dessert.

“It’s not obvious to anyone with a functioning adult brain,” Robin said, sipping from his tankard. “Us grown-ups are struggling here.”

“Not my problem that you’re all too dull to think in stories,” Laurel said with a tut. “Oh, come on, Sage, this is your bread and butter!”

“There’s always truth within the glass, as the troll pointed out.” Sage accepted a sticky bundle of candyfloss as she considered. “It makes sense that this should be the chapter which enlightens us, some kind of gleaming reveal, an aha moment. And it’s also the charm in the very middle of the chain. That feels significant.”

Laurel shook her head impatiently. “You’re overcomplicating it, still relying on logic. Think fairy tale. Mirror, mirror, on the wall…” she said with wide eyes, as though it were the most blatant and glaring conclusion.

Sage’s eyebrows shot up. “Fairest of them all?”

“All right, I’m ready for my close-up,” Casimir interrupted with a sigh.

“Why would you assume that this one’s for you?” Sage asked.

“You’re telling me you think there’s someone fairer than me in this town?” he said with such matter-of-fact sincerity that Sage couldn’t even judge him for it. “We have the charmed mirror hanging in the exhibition. It all fits. I probably have to just gaze upon it.”

“I’m inclined to think that’s too obvious,” Sage said, shaking her head. “But for the sake of exhausting all possibilities, we should go and take a look. See if it shows us anything, I suppose.” She slammed her hands onto the roughly hewn table. “Come on, up you get. This place is giving me a headache, and we’ve no time to enjoy ourselves.”

The three of them laughed. “I thought we’d agreed that was the whole point of the spell, Sage?” Robin said with a sigh.

Sage frowned. “Well, yes, that might be true. So how about we thoroughly enjoy ourselves while taking a stroll in the night air, and if we just so happen to pass the museum in the process of enjoying ourselves, then that would simply be a happy coincidence?”

“I’ll give you a happy coincidence,” Casimir muttered, reluctantly rising to his feet and taking a chicken leg for the road. “Universe forbid a man gets a night off from the ruthless world of academia.”

Their so-called stroll was in fact a very definite and brisk walk straight to the museum, with Sage calling back to them periodically to stop dawdling. She promptly shooed Laurel and Robin into the staff room to put the kettle on so she could allow herself a quiet moment to think straight.

Casimir strode over to the mirror the moment they arrived, a very sincere look on his face as he positioned himself in the centre of the glass. But when it was clear that nothing was going to happen in return for his reflection, he threw his hands in the air. “Nothing? For this face?” He gave a dejected sigh. “Sage, I think it’s broken.”