Page 41 of Season of the Witch (Toil and Trouble #3)

twenty-seven

Because of the magic concentration in Isabella’s blood, she gave off a constant, low-level hum of power that buzzed against the skin.

It wasn’t bad, not really, but combined with a sour-faced butler staring daggers at her back, Tia couldn’t help but feel on edge as she and Isabella made their way down Westhollow’s main street.

“Does Bianca come with you everywhere?” she asked, sneaking another look behind them.

Bianca’s expression didn’t shift.

“A High Family member must have a companion at all times.” Isabella glanced back with obvious affection. “B and I have been together since I was five.”

“You’re friends.”

“I suppose, of a sort. Except I pay Bianca for her friendship.” She traced a finger along the thin hammered silver ring she wore and chuckled. “And she heavily disapproves of some of the things I do.”

“Trust me, friends can disapprove of each other,” Tia said wryly, thinking back on her friends’ recent decisions. She shrugged. “It’s more of a test to tell each other the truth.”

“Friendship is truth?” Isabella mused, walking directly over a puddle without touching the water. The magic was so smooth, Tia wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been looking. “I like that. It must be relaxing to count on someone always being honest.”

“Sometimes.” Unless you didn’t want to hear it. Tia gestured at Pie Hard. “Hungry?”

“I always have room for cake.” Isabella patted her belly and smiled brilliantly at a human man walking past. He stuttered and then grinned back, his expression shifting to stunned when Bianca body-blocked him.

Tia snickered. “You must make a great third wheel on a date,” she informed the butler, who stared at her stone-faced.

Isabella tilted her face up to the weak sun, unfazed by the cold wind. “So,” she said, ignoring the crestfallen man, “tell me of your trip here. How’re you liking England?”

“It’s fine. Cold. I like the accents.”

“British men are delicious…but I suspect you’re partial to a hint of Southern twang.” Mischief bloomed in Isabella’s expression.

It made her pulse trip. She tried to ease the instant battle mode her muscles locked into. “Uh…”

“Friendship is truth.”

Well, dammit. Swallowing her desire to deny, Tia rolled her lips. “Maybe. Some.”

Isabella clapped like a toddler presented with a magic trick. “I wondered if there was something still between you.”

News to Tia. “Why?”

“You’ve always been so passionate about him. Hate is the other side of the coin to love. Indifference is the real tell. And, of course, there was Henry’s ban on you.”

Tia stopped dead. “His what?”

“I’m not one to gossip…”

Bianca snorted and Isabella narrowed her eyes at her companion. “But from what I’ve heard there’s an unspoken rule that no warlock should approach you.”

Tia’s mouth fell open. Shock and fury collided in a storm and exploded outward in a shower of red sparks, angry fireflies of magic. “ WHAT? ”

“Apparently, you didn’t know.” Isabella batted away the sparks, extinguishing them with her touch. She didn’t reprimand Tia for losing control where humans could see. Probably was hiding it anyway with some super-fine magic invisible to the naked eye.

Tia didn’t really give a shit. Instead, she tried to find her footing, hard to do when your body is molten lava and about to melt through the sidewalk.

“That arrogant, insufferable dickhead . He thinks he can ban other warlocks from dating me? Like I’m his possession?” She actually felt a little dizzy as she seethed.

“I don’t think he strictly put a ban on you,” Isabella offered. “It’s just sort of…unspoken that he wouldn’t like it. And you know how Legacy warlocks are. They always get what they want. More likely it was his friends who put it about.”

Tia didn’t care if he or his asshole friends instigated it. This was why she’d been alone for the past eight years? Not that she particularly liked any of the Higher warlocks but still. Eight. Fucking. Years. Because his Higher-ness might not like another man touching her?

“I’m going to kill him,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’m going to get three hex bags and he’s not going to know what hit him.”

Isabella’s forehead crimped. “Is that a joke or would you actually like me to make him disappear?”

The roaring in Tia’s ears popped and she blinked at the High daughter, who shrugged. “I’m just saying I could.”

And that was one freaky reminder of whom she was walking with.

Tia breathed out a steady stream of air, focusing on her center. Aggravation ground behind her closed eyelids, emotional nails on an old chalkboard, but she resolutely pushed back until she had her magic under control.

When she opened her eyes, she was steady, if still pissed. Fucking Henry. Unbelievable. When he got his memories back, she was going to toy with him like a black cat and her prey. Real slow.

Isabella interrupted her dark thoughts, gesturing for Tia to walk with her. “It doesn’t matter now, surely. You’re back together.”

Tia hesitated briefly before she fell into step.

She’d promised not to tell anyone the truth about Henry’s amnesia.

A promise should mean something. But… Goddess, she was a dehydrated man ten feet from a river and Isabella was cool, impartial water.

She’d kept all her words, all her doubts, all her feelings bottled and each passing day eased the cork out.

If she didn’t relieve the pressure herself, she had a sneaking suspicion she’d pop at the worst time.

Isabella understood politics. She might be the best option. If Tia could trust her.

Tia paused again, barely having gone a foot. “Friendship also means loyalty.” Her heart shoved into her throat, fluttering there as she took the next step. “If I tell you something and ask you not to repeat it…”

“I know what loyalty is, Tia.” Isabella’s eyebrows winged up. “You have me intrigued.”

Tia raked her teeth over her lip, folding her arms around her stomach. “Henry’s…different. Not himself. Being away from our world, he’s kind of…gone back to how he was when we first started dating. More carefree, less asshole.”

Isabella waited.

Tia looked past the expectant white-haired witch to Bianca.

“B will take it to the grave,” Isabella assured her.

That didn’t mean Tia wanted to bare her guts to the witch.

Clearly sensing that, Isabella shifted to look over her shoulder.

Bianca’s scowl was resolute. “No.”

Isabella didn’t budge.

A muscle feathered in the other witch’s jaw but after thirty seconds, she grudgingly clipped a nod.

Instantly, Isabella twirled a finger around the pair of them. Light burst up and down, there and gone before anyone would notice. A thin shimmer settled, soundproofing them. “Will that suffice?”

“You probably think it’s dumb.”

“No,” Isabella surprised her by saying. “I don’t like letting my guard down for people, either.”

Grateful, Tia threaded a hand through her hair. Tugged. “It’s not like it’s a big secret or anything. It’s just…” Embarrassing to admit. She exhaled. “You know when you go on vacation, nothing counts? Calories, men, drinks.”

Isabella tilted her head.

“Right, forgot who I was talking to.” Tia sank her jittery hands into her back pockets. “It’s out of time. Not real. And then life goes back to normal.”

A couple walked by them, hand in hand, one man laughing down at another with obvious affection. The smaller of the two lifted their hands to kiss.

Tia dropped her gaze.

“So, you think,” Isabella said slowly, as if running the words through a gauntlet in her head, “all your previous problems will come back when you return to New Orleans and Henry will become an asshole again?”

“I never thought I’d hear a High daughter say ‘asshole.’”

“I can say ‘fuck,’ too, if the occasion calls for it.”

Tia barked a laugh.

Isabella smiled prettily, nothing but a sugared Southern lady who’d never dream of soiling her mouth with curse words. Her body swayed in the breeze, responding to it unconsciously as she hummed. “Why did you break up? Nobody seems to know for sure.”

“Probably because I don’t like talking about it.”

“Even to a friend?”

Tia looked away, scuffing her heel on the sidewalk. A gum wrapper blew past, touching her toe briefly before whispering on.

“You know, not many witches talk to me,” Isabella said, bald as anything. She avoided Tia’s startled gaze by examining her unpolished nails. “Sometimes being a High daughter can feel lonely.”

A pang of solidarity caught Tia square in the chest.

Isabella once again touched her ring, smoothing over the precious metal. “I think that’s why I like our monthly teas so much. I like being around Leah and you and Emma. It makes me feel…part of something normal.” She inclined her head to Tia with an almost shy smile. “Like friends.”

Shit. Now Tia would feel like a dick if she didn’t answer.

Okay, she could do this. Stick to the headlines, move on.

“It’s nothing dramatic,” she started, reluctance dragging the words out.

“Not like he cheated on me or one of us wanted someone else. It was…slow. A missed dinner here, an unreturned call there. Dates forgotten. We argued a lot, more than our usual bickering. His dad didn’t help.

” Tia produced a thin smile. “He doesn’t think I’m good enough for his son. ”

Isabella didn’t blink.

Tia sucked air in through her nose, hating how often she’d had to revisit this ground over the past month. It didn’t get any easier. “Emma’s situation made it all come to a head. I demanded he finally show up for me, choose me over his work. He didn’t, so I left.”

“And,” Isabella said quietly, understanding, “he didn’t come after you.”

The reminder of how little he’d cared made her feel raw inside, scraped over a rough surface. She chafed her arms.

“Has he said sorry?”

“He doesn’t think he was wrong.” He hadn’t understood, the only time she’d deigned to hash it out, six months later at a party she got dragged to. If she hadn’t been there, she doubted he’d have sought her out, and when she’d thrown the truth in his face, he’d thrown it right back.

“And you do.”

“He was.”

Isabella hummed again.

Tia cut her a look. “Is that meant to mean something?”

“Oh, no. Just making noise.” Isabella’s dimples flashed but Tia didn’t believe a word. “I’m surprised you took him back.”

Tia faltered, dread mixing with the old grief. “Because it’s weak?”

For a second, Isabella looked surprised. “You feel weak for taking him back?”

“I am weak.” Tia twisted to the florist window, to the display of poinsettias in pretty red pots. She avoided her reflection. “But it’s only for now. When we go home, we’re breaking up again.”

“He wants that, too?”

“He will.”

Isabella hummed a third time.

“You know that’s annoying, right?”

“I think I like how disrespectful you’re being.” The delight in Isabella’s tone made Tia wince in realization. “And I was only thinking it sounds like you’re worried he’s going to drop you so you’re preparing to attack first.”

“I’m not worried . And don’t you fucking hum again.”

Isabella’s grin was genuine in the semireflective window. “Why don’t you ask him if he wants to keep dating?”

“We’re not dating. We’re having good sex.” She snorted. “That’s something I can count on him for at least.”

“Maybe he’s changed.”

“He hasn’t.” She wouldn’t let herself forget it. “He still jumps when his dad asks him. The perfect Higher son. Hell, maybe he did me a favor banning the others. All warlocks are the same, looking down on anyone who makes mistakes.”

“Not always.” Isabella’s forehead wrinkled, before she offered, “I know some warlocks who don’t judge.”

Tia scoffed.

“Horatio Mikito makes a point of escorting a warlock not in society to every party.” Isabella’s gaze turned inward as she thought it through. “Tobias Rowntree took back his wife after she was found in the coat closet with someone at last year’s celestial ball.”

“Neither of them are Legacies,” Tia pointed out, not even sure why she was arguing this when she wanted done with this whole conversation. “You know what Legacy parents are like. Everything has to be perfect in every way. Trust me, I know.” As if her mom would ever let her forget.

Isabella’s face brightened. “Well, if you want a Legacy example, there’s always your father.”

“My father?” Something whispered down her neck in warning and she suddenly wanted to take back the question.

Not that Isabella took any notice. “Yes,” she confirmed. “If his forgiving your mother when she came to him pregnant with someone else’s child isn’t a perfect example, I don’t know what is.”