Page 21

DELILAH

T he market street was busier than usual.

Delilah had only stopped for rosemary and sleeproot, but now she found herself walking slower, her bag hugged close to her hip, the weight of whispered words catching on her like burrs in wool.

“Did you hear she’s back for Wren’s estate?”

“Well, what else would bring her crawling home after all these years?”

“Some folks just can’t stay away when there’s something to claim…”

She paused at a corner stall, pretending to inspect a jar of pickled starfruit, but her ears rang. Her jaw locked so tight her molars ached.

They didn’t even lower their voices.

It shouldn’t have stung. She’d left. She hadn’t explained why. Maybe they were owed a whisper or two.

But it did sting. It burned.

She made it as far as the next alley before she ducked off the cobbled path and leaned her back against the cool stone wall, clutching her bag like it might hold the courage she was losing.

Her chest tightened. Breath came in short, useless bursts.

Inheritance.

Like she hadn’t scraped together every coin in Salem just to get back. Like she hadn’t come running the second Wren called, heart in her throat and roots in her hands.

She squeezed her eyes shut. She needed somewhere quiet. She needed a damn minute.

The Spellbound Sip was soft as memory. Always was.

A little too warm, full of smells that clung to the skin like perfume—baked fig, smoked cinnamon, whispering mint. And magic. Always that hum of background charm, subtle as breath, altering the flavor of each drink to suit the soul.

Delilah stepped in, the bell chiming soft and melodious overhead.

Nerissa glanced up from behind the bar, her eyes—sea green and just shy of knowing—flicked to Delilah’s face.

She said nothing. Just reached for a mug and started to brew.

Delilah sank into her favorite corner seat near the wide window and dropped her bag. Her shoulders shook. She hated that. Hated being seen soft. But Nerissa didn’t call attention to it.

Instead, she brought over a tall ceramic cup swirling faintly with gold and pink steam.

Lemon mist. Flirtation. Comfort. A gentle nudge toward joy.

Delilah took it with both hands and murmured, “You ever just wanna hex a whole room?”

“All the time,” Nerissa said, settling into the seat across from her, her voice like silk dragged through lake water. “But then I remember karma always has better aim.”

Delilah gave a watery laugh and sipped.

It tasted like sunshine and honeyed citrus and something else—something nostalgic. Her shoulders loosened by inches.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

Nerissa tapped her fingers lightly on the table. “So… inheritance, huh?”

Delilah groaned, laying her head against the glass. “You heard.”

“This is Celestial Pines,” Nerissa replied. “I knew you were here before your boots hit the moss.”

“They think I came back for a payout,” Delilah said. “Like I haven’t been busting my knuckles in the sanctuary and staying up nights with Wren’s spells gone sideways.”

Nerissa tilted her head. “People say things when they don’t know the whole story. Especially when they’ve made peace with your absence.”

Delilah blinked. “Peace?”

“They made you a ghost,” Nerissa said gently. “And now you’re back, real and radiant and not fitting the story they told. So they poke. That’s not about you. That’s about them. ”

The words hit deep. Right in that sore, cracked-open spot she’d been ignoring.

Delilah lifted the mug and took another long sip. Her pulse slowed.

“You always this wise?” she asked, eyes narrowing playfully.

“Only between moon phases and gossip drops,” Nerissa replied with a wink.

There was a pause, comfortable now. Then Nerissa smiled sly. “So… you and Rollo?”

Delilah choked slightly. “You don’t waste time, do you?”

“Not when people start glowing like you did walking in here, despite the rumors.”

Delilah flushed, but smiled. “We’re… figuring it out.”

“Figuring it out while twining moonvine in a greenhouse with your shirts off?”

Delilah laughed outright, the warmth breaking through her fog. “Okay, that was not intentional. Magic happened.”

Nerissa smirked. “It always does, with the right people.”

Delilah nodded slowly. “He’s different. Softer. Still growly, but he sees me now. All of me.”

Nerissa’s smile turned wistful. “I’m glad. Honestly. Rollo took it hard when Garrick fell. They were close.”

Delilah blinked. “Garrick?”

Nerissa’s brow furrowed. “You didn’t know?”

“I remember him. Sort of. He was older. Quiet. I knew him and Rollo were close, part of the same clan once upon a time. But I didn’t realize anything happened .”

Nerissa leaned in, voice dropping low like the truth itself was sacred and dangerous.

“After you left, Garrick got twisted up in some dark magics. Real boundary-pushing stuff. He started talking like the Pact was a leash, not protection. That the town was going soft. He poked at rituals we weren’t meant to dig up.

Started claiming the forest owed him something. ”

Delilah’s jaw tightened. She didn’t interrupt, but something sharp and hot bloomed under her ribs.

“Things escalated fast,” Nerissa continued. “He lost control during a shift. Hurt someone. Said she deserved it—said the land would cleanse itself through him. It was… ugly. Real ugly.”

Delilah’s fingers curled around her mug. “And the Council exiled him?”

“They had no choice,” Nerissa said softly. “He broke the Pact. And not just in spirit. In blood.”

Delilah blinked slowly, fury and confusion dancing behind her eyes like lightning waiting to strike. “And Rollo never told me.”

Nerissa didn’t flinch. “Because it wrecked him.”

Delilah bit down the anger, buried it under reason. But it still simmered—because she should’ve known. Because it mattered.

“He and Garrick were thick as moss on bark,” Nerissa said. “Closer than brothers, and that exile? It shook something loose in Rollo. He got real quiet. Nervous. Like he was afraid whatever Garrick had… might be buried inside him, too.”

“He thought he’d turn into him,” she whispered.

Nerissa nodded. “And instead of letting that fear hollow him out, he took over the sanctuary. Poured every ounce of himself into protection, control, care. That man didn’t just rebuild the animal wards—he rebuilt himself right alongside them.”

Delilah looked away, blinking back the sudden sting behind her eyes.

She wasn’t angry anymore. Not really.

She was heartbroken for him.

He’d been carrying that weight in silence. All this time. Afraid she might see the worst in him when all she ever wanted was to hold the best.

“I should’ve seen it,” she murmured.

Nerissa shook her head. “He never let you. You were the light he didn’t think he deserved. He’s just now learning to stop hiding from it.”

Delilah ran a hand through her hair, touching the moonblossoms Hazel had woven into it the day before.

“I need to talk to him,” she said, standing.

Nerissa smiled, warm and certain. “Good. Remind him he’s not Garrick. That he’s never been.”

Delilah took one last sip of lemon mist—flavored now with clarity—and turned for the door.

And as she stepped back into the sunlight, she didn’t feel hollowed by the gossip anymore.

She felt filled with purpose, and love, and the knowledge that Rollo had clawed his way out of shadow.

And now, it was her turn to show him he never had to do it alone.

“Thank you,” she said again, but this time it wasn’t just for the tea.

Nerissa patted her hand. “Anytime. And remember—just because the woods whisper doesn’t mean they speak the truth. You do belong here. Some of us never stopped waiting for you.”