Page 42 of The Witch’s Spell (Season of the Witch #4)

Rowan

WHEN I ARRIVE IN FAUNWOOD the following day, Alden and Aurora trailing behind me, I find the village bustling with activity.

Now that the fog has been lifted, people can come and go as they please, and it seems plenty of people are pouring in from Wysteria and the other outlying hamlets and villages.

The fog is on everyone’s lips: they want to know what it was, where it came from, where it went.

But the most important thing is that it’s gone, and life can finally return to normal.

We had a feeling things would be topsy-turvy in the village, which is why Aurora and Alden opted to join me. Thorne needed a day of rest after all the walking he’s been doing, and Faolan still doesn’t like people, for the most part, so the two of them stayed at Brookside with Harrison.

“Hello!” a voice calls, and I turn my head to see Lydia standing on the mercantile’s doorstep, one hand propped on her hip and the other waving in the cold winter air, puffs of steam drifting from her smiling mouth.

The three of us head in her direction, and she immediately pulls me in for a hug, followed by Aurora and Alden.

“It’s gone!” she announces, voice full of relief as she leans her head on Alden’s broad chest. Her brown eyes flick to Aurora, and her lips quirk up on one side. “I take it you had something to do with this?”

Aurora’s cheeks are already pink from the cold, as is the tip of her nose, but she still goes a deeper shade of red before glancing away in that shy sort of way that I love about her. “Something like that.”

“Well, we’re all incredibly grateful. Thank you for everything, Aurora. I’m not sure what we would’ve done without you here.”

“It was nothing, really.”

Alden and I exchange a glance.

It was nothing?

We were all there. We watched the power of Thorne’s storm, felt its might. At one point, Harrison even lost his grip on Alden’s shoulders, and if not for Faolan catching him, he may have blown clean away.

I haven’t said anything about it, but I’ve noticed Harrison hanging around Faolan more, and I even spied Faolan scratching him behind the ear last night before I went to bed. Guess saving someone’s life helps them warm up to you.

Those two getting along will be a gift to Aurora in and of itself .

A bolt of fear goes up my spine.

Gifts!

With everything going on, I completely forgot about gifts for Yule.

Aurora has been a bit secretive lately, hurriedly stowing baskets in closets and moving things around when she thinks no one is looking, so I’m quite certain she has plans to gift us all something for the holiday. But I’ve not gotten anything for anyone.

Yule is just around the corner now, so I’d better hurry up if I want time to pick something out. Thankfully, now that the fog is gone, Harry was able to resume his mail route, and he showed up bright and early this morning with my pay from the castle.

It’ll be more than enough to buy something nice for Aurora.

But what to buy?

A trio of shoppers bustle around us, wanting to get into the mercantile, and we bid goodbye to Lydia as she moves to hold the door open for them, then continue on our way.

The sun is out today, and even though the air is cold, it feels wonderful to tip my head back and feel the light on my face.

We’ve still a long winter ahead, but after Yule, the days will start getting longer, and from there, every day will be a step toward spring and flowers and seeing Aurora in the garden.

And a step toward meeting our child.

Ever since speaking with Aurora and telling her of my fears, I’ve found myself feeling less scared about our child’s arrival and more excited. Knowing she’s afraid too helps. I don’t feel so alone now.

Not that I ever was alone. I’ve got more support around me now than I ever have. And our child will as well.

We stop in the market square, where Tom has set up a little stand and is selling warm spiced pumpkin-apple cider. He’s got a line of villagers waiting, and we join in, not at all perturbed by the wait.

It just feels so good to know the fog is gone. The claustrophobia it caused has gone from my chest, and even the air smells sweeter.

But that could just be the cider.

When it’s our turn at the front of the line, I pay for three spiced ciders, then throw in an extra eldertoken for Tom—Yuletide spirit and all that.

“Can we sit down?” Aurora asks, pointing to one of the wooden benches at the edge of the square. “My back is killing me.”

Alden and I nod, and we head for the bench. Aurora sits down with a relieved sigh.

We’re less than two months out from the baby’s birth at this point. It’s a bit hard to believe she’ll get bigger than she already is, but I can’t say I’m not looking forward to it.

Pregnancy has made Aurora even more beautiful, pink stretch marks and all.

“Much better,” she says, then takes a sip of cider. But when her eyes flick up to us, then past me to something in the distance, the color drains from her face.

“What is it?” I ask .

Her mouth moves, but no sound comes out. I’m about to turn around when Aurora reaches out and grabs the long sleeve of my thick winter tunic, holding my attention.

“Rowan, I’m so sorry. I meant to tell you earlier, but then the fog happened, and I was so distracted by everything... and... well, they’re early.” Her brow furrows with concern, and she bites her lower lip.

But I have no idea what she’s talking about.

Holding my cider in one hand, I turn and look over my shoulder, sweeping the meandering crowd for someone, though I’m not sure who.

Until my eyes find them.

And my body turns to stone.

It’s a small miracle I don’t drop the mug of cider from my hand.

Because my mother and father are drifting through Faunwood, looking both lost and incredibly out of place with their fine winter cloaks and polished boots. With Mother’s bright red hair, it’s impossible to miss her.

Mother is saying something to Father, but when she looks in my direction and meets my eyes, she freezes. She jolts to a stop so quickly that my father passes her and has to double back. But then he follows her line of sight, and he, too, spots me.

What are they doing here?

My gaze slides to Aurora. She’s hunched over a bit on the bench, looking from me to them.

“Did you...?” I shake my head, slowly coming out of my stony stupor. “Did you invite them here?”

She nods slowly. “I invited them for Yule. And I had every intention of telling you. I wanted it to be a bit of a surprise, but not this much of a surprise.”

Even Alden looks taken aback. So, I guess the others didn’t know about this either.

Except for Harrison. I’m certain he knew. He knows everything.

I gently tug my arm free of Aurora’s grasp, and as I turn to face my parents, who are now walking toward me, I hear Aurora stand behind me.

I’ve faced countless challenges in my life, have had to learn to act even in the face of almost paralyzing fear. But standing before my parents after having not seen them for almost nineteen years, I’m rendered speechless.

They stop before me, faces familiar and yet different, lined with age in a way they weren’t when I was just a young child of seven, being sent away from home to become a page and begin my journey into knighthood.

Mother’s red hair is sprinkled with glittering strands of silver, and Father has a short beard now, though I always knew him to stay clean-shaven, like I prefer.

“Rowan?” Mother says.

Immediately, her voice takes me back. I’m in the tub again, a tiny thing, with Lucy across from me. We’re splashing about, laughing at the bubbles, smiling as Mother sings us her little songs.

She used to sing every day. Her voice is woven through my childhood like thread through a tapestry; it’s integrated into everything I remember, every memory I still keep locked away in my mind.

“Mother?” I say .

And as soon as they hear my voice, they both burst into tears.

Mother throws herself against my chest, her arms wrapping about my waist. Father crushes the both of us in his hold, stealing my breath away.

I still haven’t even wrapped my mind around this.

When I left home, I still had to tip my head back to look up at my parents, still didn’t understand so much of who they were and what they were going through.

But now I tower over my mother, and even my father has to cast his gaze slightly up in order to meet my eyes.

It feels like a lifetime has passed, and yet I can almost be convinced no time has passed at all.

“I’m sorry, son,” Father says. “I’m so sorry.” His voice is thick with emotion, but it’s still his voice, the one that lulled me into comfortable naps before the roaring hearth in his office, the one that laughed easily and often.

But I still don’t know what to say.

Part of me is still angry and hurt, and for good reason; how could they send me away at such a young age, then treat me as if I weren’t even their child? How could they abandon me like that when I needed them most?

But another part of me, the part Aurora has been nurturing, wants to forgive.

I don’t know what it’s like to lose a child—I never want to know what that’s like—and maybe they were as lost as I was after Lucy died.

Maybe they made a bad choice and didn’t know how to fix it.

And as the years turned into a decade, then almost two, the chasm that grew between us may have felt impossible to cross, like it has for me .

Leave it to Aurora Silvermoon to dance right across that chasm, to reach out a hand for me and for them and to bring us together in the middle.

Mother and Father pull away. I can tell by the way Mother’s hands fuss with her cloak that she wants to reach for me again, to hold me, but she seems uncertain. So I opt to reach for her instead, offering my hand.

And she takes it without hesitation. I remember her hands feeling so strong before, strong enough to raise me up and teach me right, but gentle enough to soothe me in times of sickness, to comfort me when I was sad.

“I... don’t know what to say,” I tell them.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Father’s voice is still scratchy, and he clears his throat. “I’ve got plenty to say for the both of us. That is, if you’d like to listen. And your mother and I would understand if you don’t.”

Mother grips my hand harder.

I look down at her, at her green eyes, and I see Lucy.

And even though Lucy isn’t here anymore, hasn’t been here for many years, I almost imagine her whispering in my ear, telling me to let love guide me.

Then my gaze slides from my mother to Aurora, who’s standing beside Alden now, looking equal parts excited and frightened by what she’s done.

“I’ll listen to what you have to say,” I tell them. Relief flickers across everyone’s faces. “But first, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Pulling my hand from my mother’s, I reach for Aurora. Her mitten slips into my palm, and I guide her forward. She eases up beside me hesitantly .

“Father, Mother, this is Aurora Silvermoon.” I meet her eyes, smiling as I say, “The mother of my child.”

My father makes a small sound like he’s trying to hold back a sob.

Without a word, my mother steps forward and opens her arms, and Aurora slips into them as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Aurora,” Mother says, and her eyes are moist with tears when she pulls away. “It’s so good to meet you.”

“Thank you for coming,” Aurora says. “I... wasn’t sure if you’d want to.”

“Of course we wanted to.” Mother squeezes Aurora’s hand, and then her eyes flick to mine. “We’ve wanted to make amends for many years. I suppose it just took a bit of a push.”

I look down at Aurora, who’s beaming now, unable to contain her joy. And all I can do is shake my head and laugh.

Because of course she would do this. And though she might not realize it, this is perhaps the best gift she could ever give me.

The gift of family.

The gift of healing.

And the gift of love.