Love Spells & Little Disasters

My morning was already a total disaster, and it wasn't even nine o'clock yet.

A glossy blue teacup was currently flying around my shop in frantic, uneven circles, sneezing warm lavender tea all over my clean white shelves. To make matters worse, a purple snapdragon sitting in a ceramic pot on the front counter kept letting out loud, violent hiccups that shook its petals every ten seconds.

Mrs. Bellflower stood directly before me with her arms tightly crossed over her silk blouse. She looked like a woman who was exactly one minor inconvenience away from having the village guard arrest me on the spot.

“Poppy Wren, what exactly did you do to my husband?” she demanded, her foot tapping against the floorboards.

I glanced up at the sneezing teacup, dodging a stray spray of herbal liquid.

“Good morning to you too, Mrs. Bellflower.”

“Don't you dare good morning me, young lady! His eyebrows were glowing a bright, neon green until three o'clock in the morning!”

“Oh.” I scratched my cheek, feeling a bit sheepish. “Well, that is definitely longer than I originally expected.”

Her eyes widened in pure outrage.

“You expected it to happen?”

“No, ma'am! Not at all! I expected the love-glamour spell to wear off much sooner than that.” I waved my hands in the air defensively. “Which it will. Eventually. I promise you it is entirely temporary.”

The flying teacup chose that exact moment to dive-bomb the counter, sneezing a fresh spray of lavender tea straight into my face.

I stood there frozen, dripping wet with herbal tea, and offered her the most apologetic smile I could muster.

“I can fix your husband's glowing eyebrows, Mrs. Bellflower. I just need a little more time to mix the counter-charm.”

“You said that exact same thing yesterday!”

“And I completely meant it yesterday too.”

I wiped my face with the edge of my apron, growing tired of the airborne pottery.

“All right, that is enough.”

I pointed my wooden wand directly at the flying teacup.

“You, stop flying around. You, stop hiccupping this instant, and whatever you do, please don't—”

The teacup ignored my command entirely.

It shot toward the ceiling rafters, knocked over a beautifully dried bundle of Marigold roses, and landed with a soft thud right into my wicker basket of fresh honey cakes.

Then, the teacup started singing a loud, high-pitched operatic love ballad.

Mrs. Bellflower stared in absolute silence at the singing teacup, then turned her glaring eyes slowly back to me.

I gave her a weak, terrified smile.

“Your refund is on the house, ma'am.”

She snatched her expensive leather handbag off the wooden counter.

“I am telling your Aunt Marigold about this the very second she gets back!”

That wiped the smile off my face instantly.

“Wait! Please don't! Aunt Marigold isn't even in the province right now!”

“Then I will tell her the exact moment she returns!”

The heavy oak door slammed shut behind her, making the glass windows rattle.

I let out a long, heavy sigh. Aunt Marigold had been gone for less than two days on her trip to the northern markets, and I was already actively losing her oldest customers.

At this disastrous rate, she would return to find the shop's furniture completely cursed, the business bankrupt, and me selling enchanted teapots on the dirt streets for copper coins.

The teacup in the basket was still singing its dramatic opera.

“Oh, shut up.”

I snatched the teacup out of the honey cakes, shoved it into the bottom wooden cupboard, and firmly closed the door shut.

Finally, some absolute peace.

Then the purple snapdragon on the counter let out another loud, violent hiccup.

I turned around slowly, glaring at the plant.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Wren & Whimsy Matchmaking Shop was supposed to be Briar Glen's most charming, reliable little business. It had soft pink curtains, overflowing flower boxes beneath the wide front windows, shelves filled to the brim with enchanted dried petals, and a stone fireplace that smelled like sweet cinnamon whenever it rained outside.

Couples came here seeking sweet love charms, wealthy bachelors requested compatibility readings, and lonely villagers trusted our family line to help them find their happily-ever-afters.

At least, that was exactly how things worked when Aunt Marigold was in charge.

My own magic was far more chaotic.

The front door bell chimed merrily as a young woman entered the shop, carrying a woven basket filled with fresh daisies.

Her gaze wandered over the sparkling gold glitter scattered across the floorboards before settling on the wooden cupboard that was actively rattling behind my feet.

“Is it always this lively in here?” she asked with a little, amused laugh.

“Only on days ending in y.”

I nudged the rattling cupboard firmly shut with the heel of my boot.

“Welcome to Wren & Whimsy. Please ignore anything in here that sings, sparkles, or suddenly develops its own opinions.”

She giggled softly, setting her basket down.

“I'm Clara. I'm here hoping to get a compatibility reading.”

“Poppy Wren. It is very nice to meet you! I'm running the shop while my aunt is away.”

I opened the large, ancient register on the counter.

“All right, tell me, Clara. What exactly are you hoping to find in a match?”

Clara turned a fresh daisy slowly between her fingers, her expression turning thoughtful.

“I grow flowers and root vegetables on a small plot of land just outside the village. Someday, I would love to turn it into a proper, thriving flower farm.”

Her small smile began to fade.

“My last boyfriend thought the whole idea was childish. He wanted me to move to the capital city and live the life he had already planned out for me.”

“Sounds like he had everything figured out except what you truly wanted,” I said softly.

A small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“Exactly. I thought love meant absolute compromise, so I tried very hard to become the woman he wanted me to be. I stopped talking about my flower farm, and I gave away all my best seedlings because he thought my cottage looked too messy.”

Her fingers tightened around the stem of the daisy.

“I cried for hours afterward, which felt completely ridiculous. They were only small seedlings, after all.”

“Hey, listen to me. I have cried over a broken pastry before,” I said, leaning my arms against the wooden counter to look at her. “It was a really good, warm pastry, but still. If something truly matters to you, Clara, it isn't silly at all. Besides, seedlings grow into beautiful things. It seems like a massive shame to give up on them before they ever get the chance to bloom.”

Clara looked up at me, a look of surprise softening her sad expression.

“You shouldn't have to make yourself smaller just to fit into someone else's idea of perfect,” I added firmly.

She fell quiet for a long moment before letting out a shaky, relieved breath.

“I don't need a partner who loves every single flower I grow, Poppy. I just want someone who won't make me feel silly for growing them in the first place. Someone who will sit with me on the porch when it rains and understand that my dream isn't just some passing phase.”

Something deep in my chest softened at her words.

People came to Wren & Whimsy all the time hoping to find romance, but hardly anyone ever asked whether they could still be themselves once they actually found it.

Aunt Marigold always told me that the right match should make room for two separate people to grow beautifully, not squeeze them tightly into one pretty little picture.

I believed her with all my heart.

I just wished my own volatile magic would cooperate long enough to let me prove it to the village.

“Right,” I said, reaching for the metal dials of the ingredient shelves. “Let's see what the magic can find for you today. And do not worry, Clara. This should be a perfectly normal, ordinary reading.”

Famous last words.

I gathered the standard, safe ingredients for Clara's compatibility reading charm: pure rosewater, crystallized clover honey, a single silver-spun petal, and a small, unlabelled jar of pale, glowing powder.

Aunt Marigold had specifically told me not to touch the bottles on the top shelf until she returned, but the paper label had fallen off this one, and I had completely forgotten what was inside.

It sparkled like standard moonflower dust.

It smelled sweet like moonflower dust.

Naturally, I assumed it was moonflower dust.

Suddenly, a loud, shattering crash at the side window made me jump in alarm.

A tiny, winged forest sprite squeezed through the small opening, dropped an unlabelled envelope straight into my mixing bowl, and sneezed a massive cloud of gold glitter right into my face.

The pale powder inside the bowl began to glow with a blinding, toxic violet light.

The ancient matchmaking register violently trembled beneath my hands.

“Wait, what the actual—?!”

The ledger forcefully snapped open on its own, its heavy parchment pages flipping wildly at a terrifying speed as a sudden gust of wind swept through the room.

The windows slammed shut automatically, the ingredient jars rattled against the glass shelves, and every single enchanted flower in the shop burst into a loud, screeching song.

Clara grabbed the edges of her wooden chair, her eyes wide with terror.

“Poppy, is this loud part supposed to be a normal part of the reading?”

“WHAT? No! Get behind the chair! Quick! I don't know what is happening, it just looks sturdy!”

A massive explosion of bright golden light erupted from the open register, instantly filling the shop with a thick cloud of pink smoke and hundreds of flying paper hearts.

A small clay flowerpot suddenly sprouted two tiny legs and bolted at full speed behind the safety of the counter.

“Should I be running out the door for my life right now?” Clara shouted above the roaring wind.

“Honestly, YES! Wait, no! Please don't run! I swear the shop is usually far less... whatever THIS chaotic mess is!”

Suddenly, the register slammed shut with a deafening thud.

Everything in the room stopped instantly.

The wind died, the singing flowers went silent, and the flying paper hearts drifted harmlessly to the floor.

Clara slowly lowered her hands from her head, eyeing a floating gold heart warily.

“Perhaps I should come back tomorrow for my reading, sweetheart.”

“Honestly? Yeah, that is probably a fantastic idea.”

I brushed the thick layers of gold glitter off my velvet sleeves, my cheeks burning with deep embarrassment.

“I am so incredibly sorry about all this chaos, Clara.”

“Don't be sorry at all. You helped me far more than you know today.”

She gathered her basket of daisies, then paused for a second at the front door, looking back at me with a soft smile.

“I hope your day gets a little less chaotic, Poppy. You seem like a person who truly cares about people.”

Her unexpected kindness caught me completely off guard, warming my chest.

“Thanks,” I murmured softly, hoping she couldn't tell how much those words meant to me.

The very second the door clicked shut behind her, I turned the front window sign to CLOSED and turned around to face the ancient counter.

The large register gave a delicate, distinctly human cough.

My head snapped toward the book in pure shock.

The heavy ledger slowly opened itself back up, the parchment pages settling on a clean, blank spread.

Right before my eyes, elegant letters of pure golden fire began to write themselves across the center of the page.

POPPY WREN.

My breath caught in my throat.

My smile vanished.

Then, another name began to form directly beneath mine in matching golden fire.

ADRIAN VALE.

Oh, absolutely not.

Everyone in the kingdom knew Adrian Vale. He was the realm's most eligible fairy bachelor, a wealthy royal noble with a devastatingly handsome smile and an infuriating talent for charming every person he met.

Unfortunately, we had never gotten along. Not even a little bit.

I had once accidentally turned a public palace fountain into twelve loud ducks right in front of him during a festival, and he had laughed at me until he nearly fell backward into the water.

The very next time we had met at a village market, he had arrogantly called me a walking commoner catastrophe.

In retaliation, I had used a potion to turn his pristine silver hair a bright, neon pink for a week.

The ancient register rustled gently on the wood, revealing one final, glowing line of text directly beneath our names.

A MATCH BEYOND ORDINARY MEASURE.

“No,” I whispered to the empty room.

I forcefully shut the heavy book and opened it again.

Our names remained burned into the paper.

Suddenly, a tiny golden spark slipped from the parchment page and circled my right wrist, forming a delicate, glowing ring of pure light before sinking completely beneath my skin.

A faint, permanent warmth spread beneath the soulmate mark.

I rubbed at my skin frantically, then tried a defensive counter-spell with my wooden wand.

Nothing happened.

The mark stayed put.

Of course it did. My chaotic magic had just triggered the ledger's ultimate, irreversible soulmate bond.

Before I could even begin to panic, a neatly folded note drifted through the front window crack, floating gently through the air.

I caught the parchment, instantly recognizing Adrian’s elegant, precise handwriting.

Miss Wren,

I believe your shop's ridiculous register has just announced to the entire high court registry that we are soulmates. I strongly suggest you prepare to explain yourself before I arrive at your door in five minutes.

Love,

Adrian Vale

I stared blankly at the note, then down at the glowing soulmate ring around my wrist.

Love?

My eyes narrowed to sharp slits as anger flared hot through my panic.

Of all the infuriating words he could have chosen to sign his threat, he had to pick that specific one.

The hidden teacup suddenly burst into another loud opera ballad beneath the counter cupboard.

I snatched the cupboard door open, glaring down into the darkness.

“Not a single word out of you,” I warned the teacup harshly. “Especially not a single word about love.”

If only all of my massive problems could be shoved into a dark wooden drawer and left there.

Adrian Vale knew about the accidental soulmate bond, he was a high-ranking fairy noble, and he was currently on his way to my shop demanding answers I didn't have.

Just another perfectly ordinary, disastrous day at Aunt Marigold's matchmaking shop.