Page 16

DULCE

“How was I supposed to assume that you didn’t know ghosts are real?” Dulce asked as the carriage traveled away from the Black Fox. “Does the Glen not speak of such things?”

“We have other things to worry about,” Reed said. “Like getting food into our bellies. But to be fair, yes, magic and ghosts are spoken of. I’d just never encountered either until I met you. So I suppose I have you to thank for that, Majesty.” His tone ended the sentence on the edge of flirtation.

Dulce angled her head to the side, the corners of her lips lifting. “Is it Highness or Majesty that you mean? You’ve used both.”

“I mean both . Unless you prefer Your Royal Majestic Highness,” he drawled, his deep baritone sending delicious tingles down her spine.

Get a hold of yourself, Dulce . “Anyway, I promise I won’t let a single ghost appear to you in Alder Bay.”

“Good. Otherwise, we may need to sleep in the same bed.”

She blinked and straightened in her seat, trying not to imagine him shirtless, his bare chest pressed against her thin nightgown.

“To protect you,” he clarified, a hint of amusement dancing in his gaze.

“Of course.” Had she been wanting a different answer? No, she was married only days ago. Nearly murdered by said treacherous man. But the tea leaves… Don’t think about those blasted tea leaves!

Dulce had only encountered one other haunted inn when she was younger. It had been on a family journey to the edge of Moonglade to visit her grandparents before their deaths, and her mother had cast the malevolent spirits away with thistle and rue.

She’d packed numerous ingredients for the journey in her satchel, her pockets, and a spare bag to keep in the carriage.

But still, she’d been more focused on the witch than ghosts.

“I should’ve been more prepared, yet I wasn’t expecting the ghosts to fall head over heels for you either.

” The memory of his surprised expression made her smile, and he noticed, glowering, which only made her smile more.

“You’re enjoying yourself way too much,” he muttered. “When a stout old dead man climbs into your bed, we’ll see who’s laughing then.”

Dulce rolled her eyes while fighting another smile and took out a dried elderberry from her velvet pouch, then placed its poison against her tongue.

Rain poured from the sky in heavy sheets as the carriage approached the Thyone Pass, and Dulce was thankful their horse had a thick coat of fur when the temperatures dropped.

She attempted to memorize more new spells from her mother’s book while casting her gaze every so often to Reed, who was sketching a cat atop a headstone in a weathered journal he’d found beneath the seat.

The chestnut locks suited his handsome features just fine, yet the ivory hair felt more like him.

The elixir they’d taken before leaving her manor would linger in their bloodstream for a good while.

But for how long? The answer was to be determined.

However, she’d brought a few other batches in case they were necessary.

The rocky path through the towering cliffsides to either side of them rose like waterfalls in the downpour. The Pass transformed to a river, conversation impossible in the noise, though Lucas, wrapped in his oilskin cloak, kept up a steady stream of shouted encouragement as Toffee soldiered on.

Sunlight hardly reached into the depths of the Pass, illuminating their way for only a few short hours on their journey north, and by the time the cliffs’ end was in sight, night fell in earnest.

Toffee picked up her pace as if racing from the clutches of the Pass, and Dulce watched from the carriage window to see glowing eyes peering back at her from the crevices of the cliffs.

She nearly grasped Reed’s hand when strange noises akin to screaming beasts mixed with the sounds of incessant rainfall reverberated.

At some point, she must’ve slept, because Dulce awoke to find Lucas folding a blanket next to a fire, while Toffee grazed lazily, a rope tied from her harness to the carriage, the landscape wide open pastures.

Reed slept next to her, his head against the window. A pleasant woodsy scent with a hint of rosemary wafted off of him when she moved closer to exit the carriage. She stared at his lovely features, his high cheekbones, his plump lips, a few heartbeats too long before leaving him to rest.

“It’s not far now,” Lucas told her, yawning, the sun rising along the rolling hills.

“You could’ve taken shelter in the carriage, Lucas.”

“I prefer the outdoors.” He shrugged. “Besides, I’ll have quite the story to tell Azalea when I return.”

“With a batch of flowers.” Dulce grinned, knowing he was sweet on the girl who worked at the bakery.

“Perhaps.” Lucas waggled his brows.

Still smiling, Dulce went to the freezing stream, settling at its shore to drink while thinking of a new wistful melody she wanted to try on the piano when she returned home.

As she imagined a room full of ghosts from her favorite poem dancing to the tune, the shuffling of feet drew her out of her thoughts.

Reed crouched beside her and handed her a piece of bread with a tired smile. “I miss Vesta’s cooking already.” He sighed, biting into his slice .

“It only takes one meal from her to grow accustomed.” Dulce laughed. She found she couldn’t stop her gaze from drifting to those perfectly plump lips of his once more, as alluring and captivating as his deep brown eyes.

Reed brought a handful of water to his mouth and drank, unaware of Dulce’s struggle not to stare. “Speaking of accustomed,” he said. “Does the charming Ms. Bancroft know how to protect herself?”

“Me?” she asked, incredulous. “Have you not seen my disguises?”

“ Without magic.”

Dulce folded her arms and frowned. “Are you saying I can’t throw a punch, Mr. Hawthorne?”

“Try it.” He stood, spreading his arms. “I won’t bite.”

Dulce huffed while pushing up from her position. “Perhaps I will.” She didn’t prepare by stepping into a stance but threw her arm forward, hoping to catch him off guard, yet Reed easily caught her fist.

Spinning Dulce so her back was against his firm chest, he chuckled. “You punch like a lady .”

She lingered a few seconds too long, feeling his warmth, as a flutter of butterflies flickered in her stomach. Finally peeling herself from Reed, she whirled to face him, her hands on her hips. “Teach me something useful then.”

Reed smirked, leaning in until his chest was so very near to brushing hers.

He trailed the pads of his fingertips down Dulce’s arm while bringing his head closer to hers.

“Like this?” he asked silkily. Instead of closing the distance left between them, he inched back and held up her black pearl bracelet.

Dulce snatched her jewelry from him. “How did you accomplish that without me feeling it?”

His eyes grew hooded. “A little flirtation.”

“A lady is taught manners.”

“Mmm, then toss your Moonglade manners aside.” He cocked his head and shrugged. “Now, reach into my pocket.”

“I’ll do no such thing,” she hissed, her cheeks growing hot.

“My coat pocket,” he explained.

“Oh...” That was certainly more reasonable. Yet why did she feel a twinge of disappointment?

Reed gently grasped her hand and placed it against the hard planes of his chest, the butterflies in her stomach turning to hummingbirds. “Lean forward. Say something to keep my attention focused on you and carefully reach into my pocket.”

Flirtation, indeed … What words of flirtation had she ever spoken to Cornelius?

She hadn’t ever. They had only discussed things like the weather, inquired after the health of his family and friends, meals, and his work.

She would just have to come up with something from the forbidding poems she’d read, or the amorous stage plays in town.

Dulce’s pulse raced faster the longer she kept her palm against Reed’s chest, as she felt the thump-thump of his heart.

She edged her face closer, mirroring what he’d done to her, only she veered her mouth to his ear, a hairsbreadth from brushing his skin, before whispering, “Ever since we met, I’ve been curious to know what your lips taste like. ”

His breath hitched, and Dulce nimbly drew out his wallet, then proudly backed away from him to wave it in his face. “How was that?”

“See?” Reed grinned, placing the wallet back into his pocket. “I almost believed what you spoke to be true.”

Because it was , she realized.

Dulce cast her gaze to the carriage before he could see the truth.

“So how did you learn how to do all this?” she finally asked.

“One learns many unsavory things growing up in the Glen. I’ve found that hunger and necessity are the best teachers.”

“When we return to Moonglade, will you teach me how to fight?” she asked. “I’ll pay you, of course.”

He lifted a tendril of her golden hair and twirled it around his finger. “If I don’t see another ghost on this journey, I’ll teach you for no payment at all.”

“A fair trade indeed.”

As they resumed their journey up and over the hills, Alder Bay finally crept into view. Black, white, and gray stone buildings dotted the town, and when they eventually passed through a bustling market, Reed’s eyes widened. “Not everyone here is human.”

“It’s the result of the abuse of magic centuries ago,” Dulce explained, smiling sadly, “Mother told me stories of Alder Bay, and how a quartet of witches sacrificed their families for wealth, but the magic went awry, throwing off the balance. Magic is sacred. Its power is meant to be respected. To do otherwise is to play a very dangerous game indeed.”

Reed turned to her in alarm. “Why is every story about a witch appalling?”

Dulce grinned. “I’m not so terrible, am I? ”

“You’re certainly my favorite witch.” He winked.

Her cheeks grew heated, and she hurried to put her mother’s spell book inside her satchel.