Page 10

It was after she had finished her story that it occurred to her that praising magic and fae storytellers while criticizing the Kings of Lumina was not a smart move in front of someone who came from the kingdom’s Head Library.

Curiously, the scholar made no remark about her near blasphemous tale, nor did he frown at her casual mention of magic.

The odd feeling in her stomach arose again, warning her that something about Gray was not what it seemed.

She focused her attention on the dark-haired man who was currently deep in thought, murmuring something under his breath. Straining to hear what he said, she caught only a single sentence.

“Is it possible there’s some kind of spell hiding the book?”

Her heart was hammering now. The casual mention of magic went against everything she knew of imperial scholars.

“It is possible,” she said cautiously, “if you believe that sort of thing.”

“A simple cloaking spell would be enough,” he continued as if he had not heard her. “Perhaps one related to her bloodline? Or would that be too simplistic?”

She tried not to react, a million questions whirling inside her head. If she acted like it was odd that Gray was mentioning magic, she would never get the answers she wanted. For now, she would wait and watch and hopefully find out what exactly was going on with the mysterious scholar.

He seemed to finally pull out of his reverie then, his eyes still slightly glazed with whatever ideas were running through his head.

“I left a few things of mine back at the inn that I am going to get. I will be back around midday.”

“Do you want to have some tea before you go?”

“No, thank you.”

She heard the front door close a minute later, and she was left alone.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur as she went around doing her normal chores, mixing up some new tonics and tending to what was left of her rabbit-ravaged garden.

As she dug out some pesky weeds, the golden rays of the winter sunlight drenched the garden, and for a moment she looked up and fell in love with Primrose Cottage all over again.

The last of the flowers were in bloom, stubbornly resisting winter, and the birch tree shaded her from the harsher rays of the sun.

She put aside her garden shears and threw herself on the ground, her hair splayed out around her in pink ribbons, and for a minute, just a minute, Serena allowed herself to believe that everything was perfect.

The winter sun was pleasant upon her face, and she was grateful for the warm sleeves of the dress she had picked out that morning. The gentle breeze brushed her cheeks in a loving way, and before she knew it, her eyes closed on their own.

She heard the front gate open a while later, and she sat up, realizing that she had fallen asleep in the grass for a good couple of hours.

She looked toward the sound, wondering if Gray had returned.

Trying to push away the warm feeling at the thought, she realized that the hardest part of living alone in a place with no friends was the knowledge that no one would come knock on your door.

“Hello there!” she called out. “Did you find what you wanted?”

“Waiting for someone?” came a voice.

Serena felt her stomach turn sour as she realized who was speaking. She scrambled up to avoid being seen in such a vulnerable position. She brushed off her grassy skirts and turned to face the loathsome visage of Reverend Erikkson.

“Please do not get up on my account.” He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. “You make such a pretty picture.”

His presence in her garden felt like a violation of the sanctity of her home. She had no idea how he managed to cross the Woods, but it did not bode well that he had.

“Can I help you?” she asked coolly, stifling a shudder at the way his eyes seemed to bore into her.

“I try to know my flock,” he said looking around the garden. “I thought it was time I acquainted myself with the most errant of them.”

“I think you’re forgetting that I’m not part of your congregation, Reverend.”

“No,” he murmured, not seeming very put out by the fact, “but there’s still time for your salvation.”

“I do not need saving.”

“Oh?” He drew closer. “Well, if you will not change your ways, then maybe I can be persuaded in other ways to overlook your witchcraft.”

“Like I said before, there is no witchcraft in my medicine.”

The reverend’s eyes seem to gleam with an unholy light. “Are you sure? The devil works in many ways. It is always possible that he is using you without you knowing.”

Her heart was hammering so hard that she could hear the pounding in her ears.

Nothing good ever came out of witchcraft accusations, especially not in a little town like Glenn.

Unlike the other charlatans that had come to preach in the village, Erikkson actually believed that he was a faithful God-fearing man who was helping people.

If harassing young women fell within this duty, well, he considered it a happy bonus.

“I could always ask our witch experts from the city to come and confirm,” he continued. “I am sure they would have the answers we are looking for. A heart absent of belief is an easy target for unholy demons.”

“I have beliefs,” she said in a low voice.

“My belief in the stars is enough for me. Even if most of Glenn’s inhabitants have fallen for your faux piety, I was brought up by a woman who remembered the old ways, and I have more respect for her than I ever will for someone like you or the belief you preach. ”

Unfortunately, that was the wrong thing to say. His lips stretched into a repulsive smile. “Why, Miss Rose. I am quite sure that is blasphemy. ”

He took a step closer—so close that she could feel his robes brush against her dress.

There was no strength in her legs; she was frozen in place with consternation.

The reverend had always made her uncomfortable, but never had he crossed a line so blatantly.

There was no one around to help her, no one would even hear her if she cried out.

“What shall it be, Miss Rose? Blasphemy? Or—”

“Am I interrupting something?”

Neither of them had heard the gate open or seen Gray come inside. He looked between them with a blank expression, holding a satchel at his side.

Reverend Erikkson recovered first.

“You must be the new visitor in town everyone has been talking about; the scholar from the city. What did you say your name was?”

“Kai Gray.” He did not take his eyes off Serena, and her heart thumped wildly, even as her bones melted with relief at the interruption.

“Hmm…I know quite a bit of the imperial scholars from my time in the city,” said the reverend, puffing up his chest. “Perhaps we have some friends in common, Mr. Gray.”

“I doubt it,” Gray replied. “I’m not in the habit of making friends.”

Serena hid a smile as the reverend’s mouth tightened, enjoying Gray’s brusqueness directed at someone else for once. The detestable man drew himself up and straightened his robes.

“If I were you, I would think about our conversation, Miss Rose,” he said darkly and swept away, taking his evil presence out of her garden.

“Friend of yours?” Gray raised a brow.

“Hardly,” She rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the way her body was quivering. “More like a pest that wants to convert me. You would have more in common with him, being a city lad and all.”

“I try not to mingle with religious zealots.”

“That must be difficult if you’re living within the palace walls.” She snorted. “Considering how bigoted and narrow minded that lot is.”

He didn’t reply, looking at her with a frown.

“What?”

“Do you need any help?” he asked. “Things didn’t seem great when I walked in on you. If you need…”

“Oh, no, thank you,” she rushed, though her heart warmed. “I try to simply ignore him. He’s usually harmless.”

“If you’re sure.”

She nodded, hiding a smile; for all of his prickly manners, Gray was a rather decent sort of man. Not many wanted to entangle with the preachers. The man in question was looking at her again, this time thoughtfully.

“You’re not wearing your spectacles.”

“Oh…” She rubbed the bridge of her nose self consciously. “I don’t actually need them. I asked for a pair like Aunt Maeve’s when I was eleven and got into the habit of occasionally putting them on. Now, I wear them on days I miss her the most.”

“I see.”

She didn’t mention how she had worn them every day for the last six months because every waking moment was filled with grief and loneliness.

And she certainly did not reveal that she had subconsciously not put them on this morning because she had been thinking about him instead. Instead, what she said was,

“Did you get what you wanted?”

“Yes, I did.”

She waited for him to elaborate, and when he didn’t, she groaned and made her way indoors. She had just put the kettle on, intending to brew some more tea for yet another one of her headaches, when she heard him come up behind her.

“You have a problem,” he said, nodding toward the kettle.

“What?”

“You’re addicted to that stuff. Almost reminds me of a tipsy old man looking for his next drink.”

She gasped in faux outrage. “For your information, I just happen to like tea, thank you very much.”

“That’s exactly what the drunk would say.”

She rolled her eyes and busied herself with brewing her own cup. “I guess you wouldn’t want any then,” she said over her shoulder.

“I never said that.”

She laughed, a little surprised at the unusual familiarity slowly developing between them.

The more she got to know him, the more she liked the person that peeked out from beneath the gruff exterior.

She wasn’t quite sure why he had such an aversion to her overtures of friendship, but she was determined to get answers about the mysterious scholar.

Starting with whether he really knew anything about magic or if he was just a charlatan on some hidden agenda.