Page 32 of The Witch’s Shifter (Season of the Witch #3)

Rowan

FAUNWOOD IS ALIVE WITH CELEbrATIONS of the harvest. The cobblestone streets are sprinkled with fallen leaves that crunch under my boots, and everywhere I look, people are smiling and drinking and indulging in the fruits of their labor, from fresh-boiled ears of corn to steaming bowls of cinnamon apple sauce and fluffy loaves of crisp bread.

The air smells like earth and autumn and the coming winter, and as I breathe it in, a smile tugs on my lips.

When we arrived, I sent Aurora and Alden off to find the Silvermoons, then stayed back to set up Aurora’s cart.

I finished putting all her goods on display, along with a little bowl for eldertokens so that villagers may help themselves and leave what they can in return—Aurora insisted upon it, saying we have plenty of food and should share freely when we can.

Thinking of it now, I shake my head and chuckle.

I’ve never known anyone quite like Aurora, and I still find things to admire about her with each passing day.

In no rush, I take my time drifting through the village, greeting people as they pass me by and enjoying everything the festival has to offer.

According to those who’ve lived here for much longer than I have, winter comes early to this area, and snow won’t be long off.

I cast my gaze to the sky, but it’s mostly a light blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds that drift in the chill autumn breeze.

I hope the snow will spare us for now; I’m not sure I’m ready for the cold just yet.

“Sir Rowan,” says a familiar voice from beside me.

I look down to find the village oracle, Niamh, standing there, her face tipped toward the sky. Her ebony skin is luminous in the golden sunlight, and when she turns her dark amber eyes to mine, they glow like polished coins.

“Niamh.” I tear my eyes away from hers, unsettled by their mystical intensity. Oracles and seeresses have always made me jumpy.

She chuckles lightly. “You are still avoiding things, I see.”

And that is why they make me jumpy. You never know when they’re going to grab your palm or snatch your teacup or make eerie predictions about your life.

Or when they’re going to dig into wounds you’d really rather went untouched.

After learning of Aurora’s pregnancy, I started to notice Niamh paying particularly close attention to me.

Her eyes often peer from her apothecary while I pass by on patrol, and she offers me these knowing smiles whenever we cross paths in the street.

One day, she dragged me into the back room of her shop and sat me down, armor and all, and asked me about Lucy straight out.

But I didn’t want to talk about it then, and I don’t want to talk about it now.

Straightening up, I square my shoulders and say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please, you are far too astute for that.” When she clasps her hands before her, the bracelets adorning her wrists jingle. “I encourage you to speak with Aurora. Sharing your worries with her may unburden the weight from your shoulders.”

My teeth clench. In the distance, a young girl is knelt down, petting a black kitten. She smiles up at her parents, and they look so happy, so carefree. That’s how I want Aurora to feel. It would be cruel to dump all my fears upon her, to steal her joy away.

“The burden is mine to bear,” I finally bring myself to say. “I don’t wish to give it to Aurora. She carries so much already.”

“Do you think she has no fears? No worries?”

My eyes flick down to Niamh, but she’s not looking at me. Instead, she continues staring at the sky. For all I know, she can probably read the clouds as well.

With a sigh, I whisper, “What if I fail them, like I failed her?”

A memory flashes before my eyes: ice fracturing over a pond, red hair slipping below the surface. My stomach tightens, and I shove the image away.

“No one can change the tides of fate. And though our pasts shape us, they do not define us. Only our thoughts and actions can do that. But the weight of your fear drags you down, makes it difficult to see the light shining just overhead.” Reaching skyward, Niamh spreads her fingers, looking like she’s trying to capture sunlight in her hand.

“And the light that shines upon you is bright.”

I long to be comforted by her words, to accept them as truth and lay down the burden of my guilt and grief, but I’ve carried them for so long... Who would I be without them?

“Strength doesn’t mean you’ve never failed, have never fallen.

It’s in how you rise and continue on afterward.

You are stronger than you think, knight of Jorvick.

You have already carried more than most. And you will carry this child within a heart that knows both joy and grief.

That is what will make you a good father. ”

My eyes find Niamh, and she’s looking at me now, the golden dust upon her cheekbones shimmering in the autumn sunlight. Her lips are tipped into a subtle smile.

“How do you know?” I whisper. “How do you know I won’t lose them the way I lost her?”

Her. My little sister. Lucy.

With another small chuckle, Niamh reaches out and places a hand upon my arm. “Did you ever really lose her, sir knight? Because it seems to me she’s always with you. In here.” Her fingertips brush my chest, and my breath catches.

“Rowan!”

The familiar voice drips over me like honey, like a balm on the wounds I carry deep within my heart.

I glance over my shoulder, and there Aurora is, waving at me from near the Golden Lantern, her family and Alden gathered around her. She’s beaming like a child, and if I could see auras the way some witches can, I’m certain Aurora’s would be a bright, cheerful yellow.

I lift a hand in return, then turn back to Niamh. “Thank you, Oracle. I’ll... try to take this into consideration.”

“I hope you do.” Niamh continues to smile in that knowing way of hers. She hums to herself, then continues on her way, long black braids swaying as she goes.

After watching Niamh dissolve into the crowd, I jog over to greet Aurora and the others, trying to shake off my heavy feelings with each step I take.

If I do decide to speak to Aurora about everything swirling around in my mind, it certainly won’t be today, or even while her family is here.

No, it would be selfish to put such thoughts in her head when she’s already so busy with Samhain and her family.

Perhaps another time. Or perhaps not at all.

“Wyland, good to see you,” I say, reaching for Selene’s husband’s hand.

“You as well,” he replies, placing his palm in mine.

I smile, then turn to the trio of witches standing beside me.

“Lady Silvermoon, you’re looking absolutely radiant,” I say, causing Evelyn’s cheeks to turn pink.

She’s wearing an ankle-length black dress that shows off her polished boots, and a cloak of deep maroon hugs her shoulders.

In the sunlight, her amethyst eyes are arresting, and glancing at her two daughters, I start to see where they get some of their looks.

The well of beauty runs deep in this family.

“Selene.” I reach for her hand and press a kiss to her knuckles, then turn my gaze to my queen.

The braids I twisted into Aurora’s hair this morning are still mostly intact, though some wispy hairs have escaped, making Aurora look like she’s been dancing with fairies or twirling barefoot through a pumpkin patch.

Maybe she has been. The thought makes me glance down, but she’s still wearing her boots—for now.

I won’t be the least bit surprised if she loses them later and I have to scour the village in search of them.

On second thought, the brownie living in the bakery would probably snatch them up.

He and I have had a number of conversations about stealing the villagers’ footwear.

“We were just about to pick pumpkins,” Aurora says, sliding her arm through the crook of my elbow.

“Wonderful. Did you tell your family about how you saved the pumpkin patch from utter devastation?”

Selene gasps. “You did what?”

Aurora’s cheeks flush with color, and she looks toward her boots bashfully. “There was a thornbug problem—”

“Thornbugs?” Selene makes a face. “They’re the worst. Mean little things. Pretty though.”

Aurora nods. “I found an elixir recipe in one of Auntie’s spellbooks, and Alden and Rowan helped me relocate them.”

I’m watching Evelyn’s face, so I see the distinct downward twitch of her lips when Aurora mentions her aunt. Does Evelyn’s bitterness have something to do with the relationship Aurora had with Lilith?

Evelyn catches me staring, and she wipes the expression smoothly from her face, as if it were never there to begin with. I just smile in return.

Together, the seven of us—including Fletcher, who’s bound to Selene’s back with a silver strip of fabric wrapped around and around her upper body—head toward the pumpkin patch. Villagers drift through the sprawling vines, pointing out pumpkins and laughing as they search for the perfect gourd.

Will we pick pumpkins like this every year? As a family? It’s been so long since I had one, I’m unfamiliar with such traditions. But I’d like to make new traditions together, with Aurora, with our child—even with Alden and Harrison, though I’m not sure yet about Faolan.

My gaze slides down to Aurora’s belly. She has one hand on her bump, and I wonder if she might be thinking the same thing.

Tom, the gardener, spots us almost immediately. He makes his way over and peels his cap from his head.

“Ms. Silvermoon, I can’t thank you enough for saving my patch. To think this all would’ve gone to waste without you.” He clucks his tongue and shakes his head. “Would’ve been such a shame.”

“I was happy to help,” Aurora says, sounding a bit shy to have all our eyes on her. She tucks herself against my arm as if she can shield herself from everyone staring.

“You pick as many as you want,” Tom says. “It’s the least I can do for all the help you gave me.”

With that, he gives us a nod and drifts off, leaving us to explore the patch in peace.

I look up at Alden, then at Wyland. One of my brows arches playfully. “Biggest pumpkin wins?”

They exchange glances with each other, then break into smiles.

“You’re on,” Wyland says.

Alden rubs his hands together. “Good luck, knight.”

After pressing a kiss to Aurora’s cheek, I push the sleeves of my tunic up. “Not going to need it.”