Page 41 of The Witch’s Spell (Season of the Witch #4)

Thorne

BETWEEN ONE brEATH AND THE next, the world goes from chaos to silence. The air around me smells different—like flowers despite the chill.

I open my eyes.

And I’m home.

The forest stretching around me is quiet, and as the fog disperses into the sunlit air, I finally catch my breath.

I didn’t know if it was going to work, even up until the moment it finally did. When Aurora called my name, her scream barely audible over the force of my storm, I was ready to give up, to let it all go.

But now I’m here.

And she’s . . . not.

The roots binding my legs still are, and I use a short burst of flame to scorch them, making the thick fiber smolder away and release me from its hold. Only when I’ve pulled myself free and stepped back do I realize how empty my hands feel without Aurora’s in them .

I hold my hands out. My skin is red from the cold and from the force of the wind tearing around me. And it makes me worry for Aurora. Is she okay? I hope my storm didn’t hurt her. I need to get back, to ensure—

“Thorne?”

I tear my gaze from my hands and cast it into the trees. And there, emerging from behind the trunk of an ancient oak, is Aurora. The hat she was wearing earlier is missing, and her hair is completely tangled and windblown. But her cheeks are pink, her eyes are bright, and she’s here.

She’s here.

Despite not having my cane, I move toward her as fast as my feet will carry me. And when I reach her, I pull her into my arms, crushing her to my chest and burying my face in the side of her neck.

“You shouldn’t have come,” I say, even as I breathe in her smell and relish the feel of her soft, round body in my arms. “It’s dangerous. The portal could have let you out anywhere. You could’ve been lost here.”

“I... I thought you were gone,” she says, voice thick. “But I didn’t want you to go.”

Pulling back, I look into her eyes. Then my palms find her cheeks, my thumbs drifting over her skin. She has a small cut beneath one eye, and a thin line of blood has gathered along it.

“You’re hurt,” I say. “I’m so sorry.”

Aurora shakes her head. “No. Don’t be. You fixed it, Thorne.” Her green eyes shine with unshed tears. “You fixed the portal.”

Gently, I wipe the blood from her cheek, then lean in to press a kiss to her forehead. When my lips pull away, I whisper, “ We did it. I couldn’t have done that without you. If your earth magic hadn’t been there to stabilize the energy of the portal, I don’t think it would have worked.”

Aurora nods once. When I look down and try to meet her eyes, she’s looking away from me, refusing to meet my gaze.

And I need to know, right now, what’s been bothering her.

“Aurora, look at me.”

Hesitantly, she does.

“What’s the matter? Since yesterday, you’ve been quiet, distant. It’s unlike you.” My hands move to her arms, still wrapped in her cloak, and I squeeze them gently. “Was it something I did? Have I upset you in some way?”

A single tear streaks down her cheek. She winces when it touches the cut below her eye. Reaching up to rub the spot, she says quietly, “I’m sorry. I haven’t meant to be cold to you. I just...” A tear streaks from her other eye.

My stomach squeezes. I still don’t understand.

“I’ve been afraid,” she says at long last.

“Of?” I prompt, voice gentle.

“Of... Of you leaving. Now that the fog is gone and the portal is fixed, you can go anywhere. But I’m going to miss you.” She hides her face in her hands, and her voice is muffled when she says, “Selfishly, I want you to stay. I don’t want you to leave.”

I take a breath.

Finally, it all makes sense: her moments of hesitance, the tears she shed as we lay on the couch together, her sad smiles and faraway eyes .

I didn’t realize. And while I don’t generally consider myself a fool, I think I’ve certainly been foolish when it comes to her. Instead of letting her worry and wonder, I should’ve come clean and told her how I feel.

Better late than never.

“Aurora, I don’t want to go anywhere.”

With a jolt of surprise, she looks up and meets my eyes. “You don’t? But what about your travels?”

A smile pulls on my mouth. “I travel because I’ve never felt quite at home here.

In a way, I think I’ve been searching for my place.

” My hands glide up her arms to cup her face again, and I wipe away each tear that drips down her freckled cheeks.

“But then I met you, and I got used to being in that beautiful cramped little cottage, and I lay with you before the fire, and I knew...” My throat gets tight.

I take a moment to swallow down the lump, then continue, “I knew you were it. You’re the place I’ve been looking for. ”

For the first time since yesterday, Aurora gives me a true smile. With trembling lips, she says, “So... does this mean you want to stay?”

I don’t have to take even a moment to consider her question. I already know my answer. I’ve known it in my heart for longer than I’ve even known it in my head.

“If you’ll have me.”

Her smile grows. “Even though we’re cramped in the little cottage together?”

“Well, now that you mention it...” I slide one hand into her hair, pushing the tangled green strands away from her flushed cheeks. “I would like to get to sleep in a bed with you every so often. Do you think that can be arranged?”

With a squeal, Aurora launches herself into my arms. I lose my balance without my cane, and with a huff, I go tumbling to the ground, Aurora atop me.

The deep snow catches us in a gentle embrace, like a mattress made with the softest cotton, and a few snowflakes fall from the tree over our heads, sprinkling Aurora’s hair in white.

“Oops,” she says, trying to climb off of me, one hand draped along her pregnant belly. I’m glad the snow gave us a plush landing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Wait.” I catch her cloak in one hand, keeping her from pulling away.

Then my lips find hers. The tension leaves her body, and she softens, leaning her weight into me, the snow a cushion beneath my back. My fingers tangle in her hair, and I kiss her like it’s the first time, like this will be my only chance to ever know what Aurora Silvermoon tastes like.

Then something strikes me atop the head, and I pull back from Aurora’s lips with a flinch.

“What is it?” she asks, just before another pine cone comes tumbling down from the trees, this time striking her in the head. “Ow. Hey!”

We both look up, and there, crouched on a low tree branch, is a fairy creature with bulbous eyes, a furry body, and a long curling tail banded in silver and white.

As we stare at it, it scampers up the tree, yanks another pine cone free with its small taloned paws, and launches it at me.

When it strikes me in the side of the head, making me wince, it starts to laugh, its high-pitched voice drifting through the trees.

“What...” Aurora whispers, shifting her weight off me and pushing slowly to her feet, snow clinging to her dress and cloak. “What is that?”

With a grumble, I say its name in my native language, the language of these lands, but Aurora just tips her head at me. It takes me a moment to recall the pronunciation in the common tongue.

“A frosteal.” I hold out a hand, and Aurora takes it with both of hers, helping pull me to my feet. As I brush the snow off my cloak and hair, I glance into the tree again, narrowing my eyes at the creature. “They’re nettling but mostly harmless.”

Aurora giggles as it pelts her with another pine cone, this one hitting her in the shoulder before bouncing away. “I think it’s cute.”

“Don’t encourage it.” With a twist of my finger, I send a little breeze through the tree branches, rustling the pine needles and the frosteal’s thick winter coat. Hunching low on the branch, it hisses before scampering farther up the tree and disappearing from view.

Aurora is still smiling. And for the first time since arriving here, she pauses and looks around, her green eyes going wide.

“So, this,” she says, taking a step away from me, “is your home. Fairyland.”

I follow her gaze, wondering what this place looks like through her eyes. For me, it’s what I’ve always known, what I grew up with.

She continues through the trees, who tower well over our heads, the true ancestors of this land. Perhaps they’re speaking to one another even now, wondering who the little green witch is who’s stumbled into their realm.

“What are these?” Aurora asks, kneeling and pointing to a cluster of upright red-orange flowers growing along the trunk of a tree.

“Winterflare blossoms,” I explain, leaning against a tree to take the weight off my sore leg.

“Their colors make them look like little candles,” she says, reaching out as if she can warm herself with their heat.

“Listen to this.” I send a breeze rustling through the flowers, and they put out the sound of crackling logs, along with a little flare of warmth.

“What?” Aurora whispers, mouth opened in awe. “They really are like candles!”

My lips pull into a smile. “They help keep the small creatures warm in the winter. When the wind blows, they put off heat, like a torch on a cold night.”

“Amazing,” she whispers, staring closely for another moment before pulling away.

We meander through the woods for a short time, and I give Aurora the names for the creatures and plants she points out along the way.

Seeing her excitement and the wonder in her eyes makes me see this place differently too.

I’ve known it all my life, have barely stopped to consider how this realm varies from the human one.

But such is not the case for Aurora. She appreciates everything, down to the small frozen fractals that drift through the air, glittering in the sunlight before vanishing into the shadows of the trees.

I’ve just finished telling Aurora what an icelume is—a type of insect that looks like a butterfly with glacial wings and lives in these woods in the wintertime—when we’re both jolted by a voice echoing through the trees.

Aurora’s brows climb up. “Is that . . . ?”

“Aurora!” he calls again, voice loud and jagged against the softness of this place.

She blushes. “That’s definitely Faolan.”

I shake my head with a groan. “I can’t believe you both came through that portal. You’re lucky you didn’t get lost. It could’ve spit him out miles from here.”

“Make sure to tell him that,” Aurora says, her light pink lips pulling back into a laugh that makes my heart warmer inside my chest. “He loves being reprimanded.”

I’ll admit, throwing him and his brother around was a tad bit of fun, but I’d rather get along with him, especially if I’m going to be staying at Brookside with everyone.

The thought of staying there with Aurora, not having to leave, makes my veins tingle with excitement.

“I think I’ll leave the discipline to you.” I hold out my hand, and Aurora takes it. “Come on, let’s go find him. And don’t you have a Yule celebration to prepare for?”

She nods once as she presses herself against me. “And you’ll be there, right? For Yule?”

Leaning down, I press a kiss to her head. “So long as you want me, I’ll be there.”

Then we set off to find her shifter so I can take them both home.