Page 51 of A Spell for Midwinter’s Heart
The Twelfth Day of Yule
“So, what was this one about?”
Gavin’s voice tickled in her ear, and she burrowed herself into his arm.
A line of witches and their conscripted partners marched through the snow, pouring hot wassail at the base of fruit trees naked with frost. Gavin had already attended a candle divination—where he’d seen nothing in his floating bits of cooled wax other than “perhaps a dog?”—and helped them chalk the doors.
She could sense the beginnings of overwhelm in the creases at his eyes, but this was the last thing she’d ask him to do today.
Well, at least, for the coven.
“We’re offering the wassail to the trees, so they bear more fruit,” explained Rowan in a low, grinning whisper.
“Hmm,” said Gavin, tipping his cup and watching as steam erupted from the snow below. “Wasn’t that what drinking the wassail was about?”
“So you were paying attention!”
“To you?” He knocked his nose into the top of her head as he planted a kiss. “Always.”
She didn’t think she would ever get used to the gooey way his affection left her feeling—hoped she wouldn’t anyway.
“Call it insurance,” said Birdie, sauntering up beside them. “Besides…” Her face went a bit green as she looked at her cup. “I think we’ve all had enough to drink…”
The old woman’s eyes were bloodshot beneath the rim of her broad hat, and she leaned on Roy Joseph for support. The New Year’s party had raged long into the night, and the wear and tear of it showed in the shadows beneath their eyes as they dragged themselves through the day’s rituals.
“You look like you could use a slice of this,” said Naomie, appearing with Zaide and a circular pan of cornbread.
“My dear girl, you are a lifesaver,” said Birdie, plucking free a fluffy, bright yellow slice.
They converged on the bread, digging in. There was a feast on the way—Gavin had helped in its preparation, earning her mother’s immediate favor—but they had to finish with the rituals before they could sit down and partake.
“Mmmph,” said Stephan, raising a finger to point it at Rowan as he finished chewing the full slice he’d shoved straight into his mouth.
Ozzy Dogbourne bounded at his feet, licking up the bits that had fallen free.
“So I know all we’ve talked about is Samhain, but we’ve got most of a year before we get there.
Kel and I were vibing a bit about spring… We’re doing Ostara to Beltane, right?”
“Spring?” said Gavin, brows knitting. “That’s soon.”
“Yes, it is,” said Stephan, putting an arm around his shoulder.
“But now that the rest of us can stop pretending we don’t have magic, we can pull out all the stops.
Besides, spring’s an easy sell. It’s when things come back to life again.
Spring is flower crowns, baby animals, and…
” He looked Gavin straight in the eye and winked. “Sex.”
“I’m sure those two can vouch for the appeal of that,” mused Birdie.
The flush that had been creeping up Gavin’s neck went a deep crimson.
“Come on, guys,” said Naomie. “Ease him into…us.”
Rowan tugged him free from her brother’s arms as everyone laughed. She kept right on pulling, until they had retreated all the way to a secluded spot beneath shaggy, snow-laden branches.
“Are they always like that?” asked Gavin, his skin finally returning to its natural shade.
“Yes, but it means they’ve accepted you.”
“My family isn’t like this,” he murmured as he watched the distant coven, and his eyes flashed with grief for what might have been.
“Well, then it’s a good thing you found us.”
“Found you, you mean.” And he kissed the top of her forehead.
“Right.” She grinned, so very gooey again.
Gavin pulled her in close, and she rested her head against his chest, her heart syncing with the rhythm of his, as in the distance, Stephan pointed at Kel, mouthing excitedly.
A circle of crows appeared overhead, cawing and dropping a rain of flower petals that patterned the snow with the vibrance of spring.
Everyone applauded and spoke in animated tones—dreaming of what might be, together.
Only ten days ago, she had asked herself—what even was the point? What was the point of working so damn hard when it could all be taken away at any time? When, after all your labors, you still might fail?
This. This was the point.
Love was the point.