Page 10 of The Witch’s Spell (Season of the Witch #4)

Thorne

THE WOMAN, AURORA, FLITS AROUND the parlor, handing me more blankets and pillows, though the couch is already draped in more than enough.

Seems someone was sleeping here when I arrived.

Finally, the bigger of the two men—I’m not sure if he’s Alden or Faolan—takes Aurora about the waist and guides her away, through a doorway into what I assume is a bedroom.

Right before he closes the door, Aurora pops her head around the frame and whispers, “Good night.”

But the door closes firmly before I can say anything in return.

“If you need anything,” the other man says from the parlor doorway, “let me know. I’ll be upstairs, room on the left.”

I give him a small nod. “Thank you. And I apologize for disturbing you all like this.”

“Don’t worry about it. No one should be out in that storm.” He lifts a hand to me, then ascends the staircase, stairs creaking as he goes. Once the door upstairs clicks closed, I relax back into the couch, alone.

I had absolutely no intention of getting stuck in that storm.

I thought passing through the portal would mean leaving the blizzard behind, but it seems to have followed me here—not that I thought that possible.

Or perhaps the human realm was already experiencing bad weather, and I happened to step into the woods amidst the worst of it.

That may be the more likely explanation.

My legs are stiff and sore from trudging through the snow and the cold, and my knees throb with each beat of my heart. My potions are in my satchel in the foyer.

With a sigh, I grab my cane and use it to push to my feet, wincing at the pain in my hip, then go to the foyer, where I collect my satchel from the hook beside the door. Back on the couch, I riffle through the contents of the bag.

It’s stuffed with a change of clothes, fresh socks, and a bag of coins—currency for this realm.

There’s also a small pouch containing my pain potions.

I loosen the mouth of the pouch and remove a small vial with a golden liquid inside.

As soon as the potion—which has a slight taste of honey—passes my lips and eases down my throat, I sigh in relief.

It takes most of the pain away, leaving me with only a slight level of stiffness and discomfort.

I close the satchel and push it under the couch, then lie down on the soft cushions and pull one of the blankets around me. It smells good, and the warmth from the crackling fire already has me yawning, wanting to drift off to sleep despite the strange place I’ve found myself in .

Before closing my eyes, I glance toward the door Aurora disappeared through.

And despite knowing this is only for the night and I’ll be gone in the morning, I look forward to seeing her when the sun rises.