Always a Witch Read Free Page A

not what I think," I say, stung.
    "Rowena," my mother protests. The veil in her hands twitches sharply. "That's—"
    "Don't you defend her, Mother. Not this time."
    I blink. When has our mother ever defended me to Rowena? "I ... it looked really awful on me," I finish lamely, and then try to backtrack, because one look at my sister's reddening face tells me this wasn't the best defense. "And it wasn't my size—"
    "So what?" she hisses. "We could have fixed it. Aunt Linnie could have fixed it. I am the bride. I am the bride here."
    "No kidding," I say, which only seems to inflame her more.
    "Well, you're going back to the city to get it—"
    "Fine by me," I say just as our mother says, "No."
    The word falls like an ax through the rest of Rowena's sentence. The silence is broken only by Aunt Linnie's humming as she adjusts the last pin in the waistline of the dress.
    "Your grandmother said that no one is to leave the property again."
    "What?" Rowena and I both say at once.
    My mother shrugs. "She doesn't want anyone leaving for the next few days."
    "Why?" I ask.
    My mother massages her right temple as if trying to drive away a sudden pain. The lines between her eyebrows deepen into what seems lately like their permanent dent. "She wouldn't say. Something she saw."
    Errant sparks fly from Aunt Linnie's hands, and she exclaims softly, stepping back.
    "Oh, for the elements' sake," Rowena says, swishing her skirts out of the way and examining them thoroughly. Aunt Linnie wrings her offending hands in distress, but the ivory expanse of silk seems undamaged. My sister glares at me, then tromps to the door of her room and bellows down the hallway, "Silda. Silda, come here." Whirling back, she hisses, "You will match with the other bridesmaids. You will if it's the last thing I do! "
    My mother and I exchange glances. "Uh, Ro," I say doubtfully, "I think you're taking this a little—"
    "What is it?" Silda, our cousin, asks a little breathlessly as she enters the room. Tucking her wispy pale hair behind her ears, she glances first at me, then at my mother, and last at Aunt Linnie, who is still shooting sparks from her hands. "What's the problem?" she asks again, now in the tone that everyone seems to be adopting with Rowena lately. The "I'm not going to make any sudden moves or eye contact" tone.
    I'm suddenly thankful for the three final exams that kept me at boarding school until today.
    "That," Rowena says, pointing at me and my offensive rose dress. "That is what Tamsin thinks she is wearing in three days. To my wedding," she emphasizes in case we're not sure of the occasion that she's referring to. "Even though everyone else's dress is silver—"
    "Concrete gray," I mutter, and as Rowena turns to glare at me, a smile slides across Silda's face so fast that I'm not sure it was ever there to begin with.
    "Since Tamsin is being so stubborn and since Mother wouldn't dare send her back to the city to get the dress—"
    "That's—"
    "I need a favor from you," Rowena continues, disregarding our mother's protests. "I need you to change the dress to silver. Change it to match the others."
    A prickly silence fills the room. Silda can change the surface appearance of an object. Shoes into stones, pebbles into diamonds. I don't know if she can manage a whole dress, but I sigh. If she can, then maybe we can avert this whole disaster that was, I admit, of my own making.
    Shrugging, I step forward and spread the skirts of my dress.
    It stays the exact same shade of rose.
    "Tamsin," Rowena shrieks, and I jump. "Stop it. I know what you're doing and you're to stop it right now."
    "What? What am I doing? I'm not doing anything," I say. "Sorry, Silda—is it too much? Can you—"
    "Just let her change the dress," Rowena snaps, bustling forward, her cheeks turning the color of a brick. I stare at her for a second before realizing what she's saying.
    "I'm not—"
    "She's not stopping me," Silda says softly, and I turn to look at my cousin. If