My teeth ache, my gums hurt, and my cat is tearing me apart, wanting you in every way imaginable. Your body. Your magic. Your fire spirit. Your blood.

Fire witches are two parts sweet and one part sour, the perfect Daiquiri—classic, delicious, and deceptively potent.

Trust her heart, Assefa, and believe in yourself. No matter the challenge, no matter the foe, be brave, be wise, be the undefeated Mngwa of lore.

You and that amazing body of yours will be the cause of some too-appreciative witch’s death. Maybe two witches.” Or a dozen, her fire spirit hissed.

I really want to call you to me in a thunderbolt so I can smack you. We’re not even married yet and I want to strangle you with my bare hands. That doesn’t bode well for your life expectancy, Assefa, or my chance of staying out of prison on a homicide charge

You buy so little and ask for even less, which makes me want to spoil you. That’s not how I grew up, which you will soon see. We Berbers ask for everything and get even more in return, much of which we don’t deserve and haven’t earned. But you have access to so much but never touch it. I respect that, and your parents for raising you to value friends and family over money and power.