Witchy Sour(81)

“Trinket can tear herself a brand spankin’ new—”

“Mom!” Poppy roared. “Put your glasses on, and let’s go!”

I hid a smirk and followed the bickering mother-daughter duo. Despite their banter back and forth, they walked side by side. Poppy carefully intertwined her arm through her mother’s, the two of them balancing off one another as they navigated the rocky beach path in their high heels.

I, too, was dressed up, but I’d opted for wedge sandals which gave me the height without the trouble of a stiletto. Mimsey and Poppy didn’t factor practicality into their outfits. What they did factor in, however, was color. Walking together, the pair looked like a fruit basket tie-dyed in Kool-Aid.

Mimsey’s dress was sky blue and bright yellow, while Poppy flaunted a long, flowy muumuu in bright red decorated with green and yellow flowers. She looked stunning, the dress brushing softly over her curves, complimenting her dazzling personality and bright smile. Her cheeks were flushed from walking, and her eyes were bright with excitement.

I’d gone with a much more toned-down look. My dark hair was pulled in a chignon at the nape of my neck, mostly so I wouldn’t have to battle flyaways from the lake breeze. My closet had populated with a variety of dress options after I’d learned the appropriate spell, and I’d selected a navy-blue dress that wrapped tight around my body with simple, tank-top sleeves. It ended just above my knees, and I’d added a white shawl. Poppy told me I looked like a sexy sailor. Mimsey told me I looked like a politician. I’d settle for looking presentable.

“Turn here,” Mimsey said, guiding us past the supply store to the edge of The Forest. “I hear them setting up. We’re just in time for the opening anthem.”

The three of us shuffled into an arena that I’d never before seen. In fact, the inside was so large, I wondered if it hadn’t been enhanced by magic. There was no other explanation for how I’d missed the basketball court-sized space plopped in the middle of The Isle. Seats rose high on either side, putting the nosebleed section at American football games to shame. Luckily, as we were Guests of Honor, we didn’t have to go far. Trinket waved us over, her face pinched in annoyance.

“Told you she wouldn’t be happy,” Poppy muttered. “Do you think she saved us a seat?”

“My sister’s never happy,” Mimsey said. “There are three spots next to her, I see them.”

We shuffled into the saved seats just in front of Trinket and six of her seven children. The seventh child, Zin, was nowhere to be seen. However, when I snatched a program off the empty chair a row ahead, I found her face staring back at me.

Zin, along with nine others, had been selected to join the Ranger Initiation Program. Today, she’d be given the gear and the blessing of the islanders as she started the rigorous training program. Though it was a cause for celebration and much honor, she had a long way to go before she became an official Ranger. According to Poppy, less than fifty percent of the starting class finished the program. From there, only one or two Candidates were hired to work for Ranger HQ.

Even so, this was a big step forward—not only for Zin, but for the entire Ranger culture. Whispers circled the arena as everyone watched and waited to glimpse the first ever female Candidate.

I couldn’t have been more proud.

“There she is!” Mimsey clapped her hands wildly, and then stood up and whistled so loud the entire stadium quieted. “Sorry, sorry,” she murmured as Poppy tugged on her arm. “Sorry, it’s just so exciting—that’s my niece down there!”

Despite Poppy’s efforts to calm her mother down, none of us could wipe smiles off our faces.

However, mine dimmed as Ranger X walked onstage, looking handsome as ever in a tailored suit. The confidence and grace surrounding him was second to none, and this time, the audience quieted on its own.

“Islanders,” he called out. “Welcome.”

A few last-minute arrivals squeezed their way into seats. After everyone settled down and all eyes focused on the stage, Ranger X looked up at the crowd and scanned the audience collectively.

I wondered whether or not he knew I was in the stadium. He’d probably assumed I’d be watching—a safe assumption since everyone on The Isle was here. Plus, Zin was my cousin. There was no way I’d miss the event. Oddly enough, however, his eyes skipped over our section and skimmed the rest of the faces as he made a full sweep of the arena.

“This is a year of changes,” he said, before spiraling off into a long introduction that detailed the long, strenuous process the Candidates would have to endure before becoming a Ranger. “The chances that more than two of these Candidates standing before you today make it to the final challenge—securing a position at Ranger HQ—are slim. But we applaud their effort. It’s not easy to become a Candidate, and the going will only become more difficult. When you see one of these faces on the streets this week, thank them. They are here to protect all of you.”