Page 20 of Season of the Witch (Toil and Trouble #3)

thirteen

He’d disappeared. After Rudy had taken Siddeley down, things had been chaotic enough that only Tia had seen Henry slip away.

Although her skin itched to go after him, she hadn’t wanted to make his absence a big deal.

So she’d bided her time, making excuses for him, and waited until the last spoon of trifle had vanished before shooting out of the room, tossing a “good-night” to everyone over her shoulder.

She faltered outside, the aged floorboards creaking under her hesitation as she swung her head from left to right.

A shadow moved ahead and Primm appeared, carrying a bundle of pine air fresheners in the shape of small Christmas trees. The fat white cat was on his heels, grumbling in its throat when it saw Tia. Surprise quickly gave way to inquiry and Primm halted. “May I help you, Lady Hightower?”

She eyed the growling cat. “Have you seen Henry—Lord Pearlmatter?”

He inclined his head behind him. “I think he wandered into the music room. Down the corridor, fifth door on your right.”

“Thanks.” She paused and looked at the air fresheners.

“For the rooms absent of a real Christmas tree. Lord Siddeley enjoys the scent.”

Naturally. She didn’t even know why she’d wondered.

Tia’s heels clicked quietly as she skirted the cat and walked down the hall, her steps muffled by the carpet runner. The paintings on the walls were all landscapes, depressing gray and dark green made slightly cheerier by the silver tinsel decorating their ancient frames.

The door that Primm had indicated was ajar and she nudged it, peeking in.

The room was bathed in shadows, only illuminated by the bay window opposite.

She doubted the radiance was moonlight, more likely the millions of twinkle lights on the exterior, but it was enough to highlight the figure standing on the right of the window.

He looked so alone.

The thought was powerful enough to stop her breath for a stolen second.

She scowled in instinctive response, pushing the door open wider and sauntering in. “Thanks for leaving me alone.”

Henry turned his head. Light slid over his nose, those sharp cheekbones, the mouth that curved so faintly, it barely counted. “Sorry.”

Another spasm in her chest had her whistling out a long breath.

Habit wanted her to strike; she hated feeling…

well… feeling anything for him. But she said nothing as she made her way through the room to stand at the other side of the window.

A piano, open to its keys, gleamed behind him, and comfortable couches were beyond, framing the expected Christmas tree glowing with intermittent lights.

She purposefully stared out at the view, same as him. The window faced the gardens but she saw more of her own reflection than the landscape. She watched herself as she noted, “She’s something, huh?”

He chuffed a sound that might have been a laugh. “Mmm.”

“Typical Higher society witch.” Tia wished she could put her hands into pockets, but her green sweater dress was snug, and all she could do was brace them on the windowsill.

“Where the rule is, if you don’t have anything nice to say, say it anyway.

I think Sawyer was just baiting her by the end. You shouldn’t have missed dessert.”

“I’m sorry,” he said abruptly.

She flicked her eyes toward his reflection. “It was just trifle. It wasn’t all that.”

“No.” He shifted his weight. “For being a stammering idiot in there.”

“You’re making this too easy,” she joked. When he didn’t reply, she angled her head.

His face was tight. Solemn.

Something inside her twisted. “You’re serious.” When he didn’t look at her, she firmed her jaw. “It wasn’t anything. I’ve done worse.”

“Not that I’d know,” he murmured, then combed a hand through his hair. “I screwed up, I know it.”

“It was no big deal. Everyone started talking about the dog and then Siddeley harped on about the mulled wine tasting tomorrow.”

He steadied his hands on the sill, close enough their pinkies could’ve touched. “You’re depending on this. Everyone is.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a piece of hair drift forward as he lowered his head. “I thought I’d anticipated everything.”

“That’s because you’re arrogant as hell.”

He didn’t smile. “It was stupid. I should’ve known they’d ask. People always want to see my magic, but I… I didn’t realize it had progressed to that level.”

“I taught you.” The admission was out before she’d thought it through and she kicked herself.

“I thought you were an alchemist.”

She lifted a shoulder, cheeks hot under his careful scrutiny. “You wanted to learn something cool. So, I helped.” She blinked away the memory of spinning on his shoulder, dizzy but safe in his hands. “You picked it up pretty quick. I can show you. If you want.”

His hand inched closer to hers. “Yeah. Thanks. Except… Shit, Tia, I can barely light a candle.”

“We’ll work on it.” She didn’t like this feeling, a kind of fluttering, scraping sensation that made her extremely uncomfortable. And the more he worried, the worse the feeling got. “It’s fine.”

“You were right. I’m messing up.” Her muscles locked as he added softly, “What if I can’t do this?”

She had no idea what to say. This wasn’t their thing; they weren’t honest and open and vulnerable. She couldn’t—couldn’t do that. A stray red spark of magic burned under her fingers before she doused it.

Part of her, a part she struggled to drown, marveled that Henry was being honest and open and vulnerable.

Even before everything, he didn’t like to show that side of himself.

He’d challenged her, provoked her, circled her.

They’d fought and made up and danced their dance over and over, but this was new. She…

Tia cut the thought off, every atom in her driven to do something .

It wasn’t in her to be nice to him; it felt too weak to offer up compassion after only a little vulnerability.

But it also wasn’t in her to leave him twisting in midair alone.

Because for all his smirks and bluster, that was how he must feel, stuck here with her, a stranger who barely tolerated him. Alone.

Fuck.

With her pulse tripping, she lifted her hand and, with only a small hesitation, curled it over his. She felt his surprise like a jolt.

When he turned his head, she mirrored him. Tension shivered in the air, building the longer they stared at each other. Her heartbeat picked up until it felt ridiculously fast.

Enough that she finally broke.

“You ready to head up?” She flicked up an eyebrow, hiding how unsteady she felt. “Or are you not done with your pity party?”

A faint smile lifted his lips. “Maybe I’m just hiding. I’m man enough to admit Lady Siddeley is damn unnerving.”

Relieved the moment of whatever was already in their rearview, Tia stepped back and headed for the door. “I’ll play bodyguard, tough guy. Come on.”

“Okay. But just know I am one hundred percent behind you throwing your body onto mine if there’s even a hint of danger.”

Yeah. They were definitely back. She rolled her eyes as he caught up to her. “Noted.”

Silence reigned for the next few seconds.

Then: “Thanks,” he said as they turned the corner. His shoulder brushed hers and she felt it down to her toes.

She didn’t acknowledge him.

But she didn’t move away, either.

* * *

Henry sat on the bed and watched the bathroom door, flicking through the events of the night as he waited for Tia to come out. The sticky feeling of uncertainty still clung to his insides, triggering worst-case scenarios he couldn’t help but play over and over.

A few seconds. That was how quick it could’ve all gone to shit tonight if Tia hadn’t jumped in. And all because he’d been so arrogant to think he could get through this without a script or someone to prompt him.

He slowly exhaled, twisting his hands in the covers.

He’d learned his lesson. Tia might hate being here with him, but even though he barely knew her, he couldn’t think of anyone better to stop him fucking it all up.

At least he could depend on her to be honest, unlike most of society, and tonight she’d made a choice to work with him, instead of against him.

When Tia said they’d get through this, she’d meant they . Him and her.

It probably shouldn’t have turned him on so much. But then everything about her did, a wisp of something forgotten tangling his insides. Strong urges and old aches he had no clue what to do with.

The sound of the doorknob turning interrupted that thought.

He shouldn’t look but he’d never known what was good for him.

And it was painful, the heat that torched under his skin at the sight of silk and all that gorgeous leg.

She’d pulled back her hair, softening her face as she approached the bed.

Fuck him. He needed a distraction.

“Mulled wine tasting,” he blurted out, grimacing to himself as he stood up and flipped back the covers. He got into the bed, the intimacy of the moment shivering down his spine like a premonition. Or memory. “Tomorrow, right?”

“I hear it’s all the rage.” Tia switched on her lamp with a flick of one hand and the main lights off with the other. “Wonder if we can get Siddeley drunk and ply him with facts that’ll amaze him enough to sign a deal.”

“Tia…”

“I know, I know. I’m kidding. Mostly.” She slid beneath the covers, making the mattress dip. His body screamed in awareness as his knuckles turned white on the duvet. “Fun and friendship, not facts and figures.”

“You got it.”

“And a united front.” She checked her cell, then put it on the bedside table. “Griffith was showing way too much interest in us.”

“He’s a potions rival?” He frowned, searching his blank mind. “I’ve met him?”

She nodded, turning off the lamp and plunging the room into darkness. “Probably our biggest competition. He also has those golden bloodlines Lady Siddeley is so lusty for.”

Fuck, he wished she hadn’t mentioned lust. He knotted his hands on his flat belly and stared into nothing. “I’ll do my research. He won’t catch me off guard again.”

“I know.”

Her confidence made him smile. Especially considering Tia was a bag of nerves covered with bluster. He wondered how everyone else didn’t see it.

Silence passed a few comfortable moments and her breathing slowed.

“Tia,” he said into the darkness, taking comfort from it. Confidence from it.

“Shh. Tia’s asleep.”

“Celestia.”

He jolted, more from surprise, as her foot nudged his leg. “Don’t call me that.”

He shifted on his pillow to face her, only the outline of her profile visible. He wished he had enough control of his fire to light the room, but he’d probably torch her hair. Not the best way to keep on her good side. “Can I ask you something?”

“No.”

“In the spirit of teamwork.”

She grumbled under her breath. He caught the word ass and couldn’t fight a grin. “What?”

He battled back the stupid nerves that rose. “Will you tell me how we met?”

Absolute stillness. And he meant absolute. There wasn’t even a clock to break the silence.

“Why?” she finally asked. Wary.

“Research.” True, but also a lie. “Tell me?”

More silence. So long he thought it was a no until—

“We’ve known of each other almost our whole lives.” Fabric rustled as she rolled to her back. He kept his glee contained in case she could see his face. “Legacy families, Higher society parties, schooling and just…around.”

“And you always had a crush on me,” he teased.

She snorted. “Yeah, no. I had a crush on Allistair Peabody. Four years older, black hair, amber eyes and a smile that made my teenage heart go pitty-pat.”

“And where’s old Allistair now?”

“Married, sadly.”

“All the good ones are taken.”

“You got that right.” She shifted, a small telling movement. “But we met when I accidentally threw a cat on your head.”

He choked. “What?”

“The cat was fine.”

“Why were you throwing it at all?” He squinted at her. “You’re making this up.”

“Swear to the Goddess.” He heard the smile in her voice. “My boring as fuck cousin was in town and her familiar had wandered into a tree in Louis Armstrong Park. It was meowing and meowing and I couldn’t stand it anymore, so I climbed up and nudged it out.”

“Where it landed on me.”

“I’ve never heard anyone yell so loud.” Amusement rippled through the words, rich enough to tug an answering emotion from him. “The cat was pissed and dug its claws into your face as punishment.”

He winced, even though he couldn’t remember it.

“When I jumped down, you accused me of attempted murder—deathly assault with a cat. You were being such a baby, which I told you very diplomatically before taking you to clean your scratches.”

“And you started crushing on me.”

“Fuck off . I hated you,” she informed him with a little too much relish, “and you were always around after that because our families developed little heart eyes.” She muttered something he figured he was better not asking about. “We argued all the time. Until we didn’t.”

“Because you kissed me.”

“ You kissed me ,” she corrected with a haughty air. “And I decided to let you.”

And the rest was history , he thought, not wanting to ruin the moment by saying it aloud. “Deathly assault by cat,” he murmured, closing his eyes as he wracked his brain for any hint of it. “I wish I could remember.”

She let out a breath, which was more of a sigh. And then, so quietly it was almost inaudible, “I wish I could forget.”