The Spellshop

But I do know books—and that meant there was nothing she couldn’t know, eventually. That was a magic in and of itself.

Her parents had abandoned a heap of old Caltreyan clothes. Selecting one of the island dresses, Kiela shook it out. Dust plumed in the air. The skirt was a quilt of blue—sky blue, sapphire blue, sea blue—all stitched together with silvery thread and hemmed with silver ribbon, and the bodice was a soft white blouse.

“We’ll be all right. We’ll make it all right. Kiela, you can’t break down on me now. You’re all I’ve got.”

She sucked in air and steadied herself. They only had each other and so, like Larran had said, they had to look out for each other.

But where to begin?

“We have to make this our home,” Kiela said.