Page 43 of The Witch’s Spell (Season of the Witch #4)

Alden

AFTER INTRODUCTIONS ARE MADE AND more hugs are exchanged, Rowan walks off with his parents, headed for the bakery. I can’t quite read the expression on his face, but I think it’s somewhere between curious, excited, and terrified.

“Do you think I did something wrong?” Aurora asks from beside me.

I look down at her. She’s holding her pumpkin cider mug in her mittened hands, and her lips are pulled into a slight frown. Her green eyes follow Rowan and his parents as they get lost in the crowd.

I’ve not seen the village this lively since the harvest festival. Seems folks from Wysteria are here as well, probably checking on friends and family members now that the fog is gone.

“I don’t think so,” I say. “A heads-up may have been nice, but then again, maybe it’s better this way. He didn’t have an opportunity to get in his head about it.” I smile. “And I think he does that a lot.”

Aurora nods once, then takes another sip of her cider. With a sigh that sends steaming breath puffing around her mouth, she says, “I hope you’re right.”

I finish the rest of my cider, then ask, “What now?”

Aurora perks up. “Let’s go see if Niamh has returned.”

We take our empty mugs back to Tom, then make our way through the crowd to Niamh’s apothecary. As we approach, I detect a hint of sage in the air.

“Pretty sure she’s here,” I say. Aurora smiles as I pull the door to the shop open and step aside.

People mill about, chatting and laughing while perusing Niamh’s shelves. The oracle is standing behind the counter, spectacles perched on the end of her nose. When we walk in, she lifts a hand and beckons us over.

“Happy Yuletide,” she tells the woman in front of us. When the shopper leaves, Niamh comes around the counter to wrap Aurora in a hug.

“You’re back,” Aurora says, voice tinted with emotion.

“Did you miss me?” Niamh asks. She pulls away with a smile, and the golden dust she often wears on her cheekbones glitters in the winter sunlight streaming through the shop’s front windows.

“I did.” Aurora holds Niamh’s hands in her mittened ones. “To be honest, I felt a bit lost here without you.”

The smile Niamh gives her is a knowing one. It gives me a sneaking suspicion that our oracle may have known the whole time what was going on.

“And yet you found your way. I’m so proud of you, Aurora. And Lilith would be as well.” Niamh touches Aurora’s cheeks, and the movement sends the bracelets on her arm jingling. “You’ve become a fine woman— and witch.”

Aurora sniffles, then lets out a breathy laugh. “I’m not so sure about that. I wasn’t able to get rid of the fog on my own.”

“I know,” Niamh says.

I cross my arms. I knew it.

“You do?” Aurora tips her head.

“Of course. And did the white willow work out for him? I made sure to fill it before I departed.”

Aurora glances at me, eyes twinkling with wonder, then back at Niamh. “Uh, well, yes. Though not as well as what he’s used to.”

“No, I imagine not. The fairies have access to healing modalities we’ve not yet fully developed.” She shrugs, then squeezes Aurora’s hands again. “Perhaps you can ask them for their recipe. Then share it with me.” One of her dark eyes closes in a wink, and Aurora laughs.

“Maybe I’ll do just that.”

“Excuse me?” says a voice from behind us.

Aurora and I both turn, and I’m slightly taken aback to find a family standing there—a human man, an orc woman, and a boy who I imagine must be their son, given his lighter green skin tone.

I’ve always known orcs are around, but I’ve never seen one in Faunwood.

The woman glances at me, eyes dark and skin tinted a deep shade of forest green, and when she smiles, it takes me a moment to smile back .

Aurora jostles my arm lightly and whispers, “Alden, don’t stare!”

I quickly tear my gaze away and pretend to be wildly interested in the simple herbs displayed on the nearest shelf.

“We’re looking for dragon’s breath salt,” the man continues. “Do you carry that here?”

“I do,” Niamh says. She gives me and Aurora one final smile, then goes to help the family of shoppers.

Aurora takes my hand and guides me from the shop, her mitten warm and soft against my bare skin. Once we’re back outside in the cold and walking down the cobblestone street, she says, “Have you never seen an orc before?”

I shake my head. “Never.” Then my gaze flicks to her. “Have you?”

“Sure.” She shrugs before lifting her free hand to wave to Welma as she passes by. “The academy I attended, Coven Crest, has all sorts of students. Anyone with a parent who’s a witch or warlock can attend. There were a few orc students at the academy while I was there.”

“Well, I suddenly feel very . . . uncultured.”

Aurora laughs once, the sound light and airy. “Not at all. But once the baby is born, perhaps we could travel a bit, all of us... as a family.” Her eyes meet mine, vibrant in the light, and I tug her to a stop. Blinking in surprise, she says, “What is it?”

“I just wanted to do this.” I cup her face in my hands and lean down to kiss her. The taste of spiced pumpkin cider still lingers on her warm lips.

When I pull away, Aurora says, “I have an idea. ”

“Oh?”

“Come on.” Hand grabbing mine once more, she begins to lead me away. And I know without a doubt that I’ll follow her wherever she wants to go.