Page 46 of The Witch’s Spell (Season of the Witch #4)

Thorne

“OOPS, SORRY!” LYDIA, ALDEN’S SISTER, bounces off my chest after running into me in the kitchen doorway. She’s holding a platter of fresh-baked cookies, the little mounds of sugary goodness still steaming.

“My apologies.” I step aside, and she passes through the doorway and into the parlor with a small smile.

The cottage is packed to the brim. It’s the first day of Yule, and Aurora isn’t holding back.

Everyone is here: Rowan and his parents; Alden and his sister and brother-in-law; Faolan, Cathal, and Orla; Harrison and the three hens; and me.

It’s almost impossible to move through the house without bumping into someone or getting squished in a doorway, but somehow, I think we all like it this way.

Fires blaze in the hearths, the air smells of Aurora’s delicious cooking, and everyone—even the shifter brothers—has a smile on their face.

I find Aurora in the kitchen. When Faolan and Cathal arrived back from their talk in the woods, Cathal immediately pulled Aurora aside, and though I tried not to listen in, I couldn’t help but to overhear him apologizing to her for being an ass since the moment he arrived.

Aurora made sure to reprimand him for his behavior, which made Orla laugh, and then the two of them hugged.

With that issue resolved, everyone feels much more peaceful.

It’s nice to know I won’t have to blow Aurora’s cottage away for the sake of keeping the brothers from killing each other tonight.

Small joys.

“Mm,” I say as I step up behind Aurora, the hand not holding my cane going to her warm, soft waist. “What’s that smell?”

“Chocolate frosting,” Aurora says, a lovely lilt to her voice.

Now that the fog is gone and everything is back to normal, I’ve noticed a change in her.

I’ve known her such a short time, and most of that time was spent with her being scared and overwhelmed and worried.

But the Aurora I see now is quick to offer a smile and a laugh, and her green eyes sparkle with joy and wonder at every opportunity.

She dips her fingertip into the bowl she’s stirring, then turns and holds it up to my lips.

I arch one brow. Then I part my lips and let her put her finger into my mouth. Her cheeks flare pink as I suck the chocolate from her fingertip.

It’s sweet and smooth and deliciously chocolaty.

It’s so good, in fact, that it helps distract me from the hardening in my trousers.

That is certainly not appropriate when we’ve a cottage full of family members and friends.

But perhaps later I can steal Aurora away into the back bedroom and lick frosting off some of her other body parts .

Giggling, Aurora pulls her finger from my mouth, then pushes onto her toes to press a kiss against my still-sweet lips.

“What’s the frosting for?” I ask as she turns around, her soft green hair tickling my face.

“The Yule log. See?” She points to a wooden platter with a beautiful chocolate-and-vanilla sponge cake perched in the center, having been rolled and shaped to look like a log from the forest. “I just need to finish the frosting, then the sugared cranberries, and it’ll be ready.”

“And what’s that?” I point to the opposite side of the kitchen, drawing Aurora’s gaze. With her distracted, I quickly reach around her and dip my finger into the frosting bowl, stealing another taste.

“Naughty,” Aurora says, flashing me a look and pulling the bowl close to protect it from my thieving fingers.

“Punish me later?” I whisper.

She arches a brow. “Only if you’re good.”

My laughter is quick and easy. And it almost drowns out the sound of someone knocking on the front door.

Aurora’s gaze flicks to the kitchen doorway, a furrow wrinkling her brow.

“Are you expecting someone else?” I ask.

“No. Everyone’s here.” She starts to set her wooden spoon down, but I wave a hand.

“I’ll get it. You focus on the frosting. And maybe make extra for later?” I glance back at her before stepping through the doorway into the foyer, and her eyes are crinkled with a laugh.

It doesn’t seem anyone else heard the knock; they’re all gathered in the parlor, laughing and eating and playing a game of cards.

I wasn’t familiar with it, so I left them to it.

Now, though, I step up to the front door, wrap a hand around the handle, and pull it open, expecting to see someone from the village.

My eyes go wide. I blink.

“U-Uncle?”

Ciaran, my father’s younger brother, stands on Aurora’s front porch. He’s wearing his glamour, as am I, but his long black hair still shines in the dim winter sunlight, and his pale skin looks only slightly wrinkled with age.

“Nephew,” Ciaran says, flashing me a quick smile. “I’d hoped to find you here. Your parents are concerned about you. Didn’t listen when I told them you were just off on another one of your travels.”

I blink again, trying to wrap my mind around him being here. “How’d you find me?”

“The dryads,” he responds nonchalantly.

Of course. I shouldn’t have even asked. The dryads know everything—and they’re not big fans of keeping secrets. Especially mine. It’s been that way since I was young.

“Is this where you’ve been all this time?” he continues, his sharp silver gaze drifting over my shoulder. The way he looks at the cottage feels... odd. But I can’t put my finger on what exactly it is.

Before I can answer, I hear movement behind me, and Aurora says, “Thorne, who’s here?”

There are some fairies I would never allow to get within a square mile of Aurora, but my uncle isn’t one of them.

He’s a bit of an outlier in my family, a wanderer with very little interest in the lordship and the responsibilities that come along with it.

I spent many afternoons adventuring with him when I was a boy.

He’d either walk along at my slow pace or would sling me over his shoulders, and we’d explore the woods and valleys around Eldrasyl together, then return home with twigs in our hair and smiles on our faces.

I give Ciaran a look, and he tips his head curiously. Then I step aside, making room for Aurora to sidle up beside me.

And my uncle’s face does something strange. His eyes crinkle at the corners, his forehead furrowing, and for a brief moment, he loses control of his glamour, letting his true appearance flicker through.

With a tremor in his voice, he whispers, “Lilith?”

Aurora draws a sharp breath. When I look at her, I find her eyes wide, a similar look of confusion on her face.

Lilith was Aurora’s aunt; I know that much. But how would Ciaran know that?

I’m not sure what’s going on here. Maybe none of us are.

“N-no,” Aurora says at long last. “Lilith was my auntie. This was her cottage.” She places a hand on the lovingly worn wooden doorway. “But she passed away last year.”

Ciaran’s glamour flickers again. Then he draws himself up and gives her an apologetic smile. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry. You just...” He shakes his head, his breath steaming out around his lips. “You look so much like her.”

Aurora takes a step closer to my uncle, her head tipping to one side. “You knew her?”

“I did,” he says. Again, his gaze travels across the front porch, the open doorway, the large tree in the snowy yard with a swing hanging from one of its sturdy boughs .

Aurora draws another breath. “You,” she says, calling my uncle’s gaze back. “Are you the fairy she told me about? The one she met all those years ago?”

“She spoke of me?” Ciaran asks, an amused tilt to his lips. “And here I thought we’d agreed to keep each other a secret.”

A cold gust sweeps through the trees and onto the front porch, making Aurora’s long dress ripple around her ankles and Ciaran’s cloak snap.

I’m not so sure where the souls of witches go when they depart, but that gust felt oddly pointed .

“Would you like to come in?” Aurora asks. She reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and I notice she has a little bit of frosting on her cheek. “We’re about to have the Yule log. I’d love for you to join us. And maybe you can tell me more about Auntie?”

Ciaran looks from Aurora to me, as if asking for my permission. I give him a small nod. I’m just as curious to discover what my uncle has been keeping hidden all these years.

“I’d love to,” he says. “Thank you.”

Aurora turns to step back into the cottage, then pauses and says, “I’m Aurora, by the way. Lilith’s youngest niece.”

“I know,” Ciaran says, making Aurora blink in surprise yet again. Then he smiles. “I’m Ciaran. This one’s uncle.” He reaches out to grasp my shoulder, his touch firm and familiar.

“Ciaran,” Aurora whispers, as if trying to recall something from a long-forgotten memory. Then she shakes her head and steps through the doorway, beckoning us both after her. “Come. We’ll eat, and then you can tell me about this secret. ”

Ciaran and I exchange an amused look, and then he follows her into the cottage, and I follow behind him.

THE YULE LOG STOOD NO chance against the lot of us.

Almost as soon as Aurora put it down on the low table in the parlor, it was gone, sliced up and swiped away onto mismatched plates.

My uncle is the only one who hasn’t yet finished eating, due mostly to the fact that he keeps looking around the parlor with a mixture of sadness and warmth in his eyes, like maybe Lilith will come stepping through the doorway at any moment.

I feel strange about the whole thing, especially as the laughter and chatter in the parlor go quiet and he starts to tell his story.

He’s sitting on the couch, Aurora on one side of him and Rowan’s mother on the other.

I’m in the rocking chair, Harrison in my lap, and the others are scattered about the room—some on the floor in front of the fire, some leaning against the walls.

Everyone looks full and content, like they’ll fall asleep as soon as their heads hit a pillow.

“We met not so far from here, in a meadow surrounded by old oaks,” Ciaran says. “Lilith was young, but she was fierce, not one to be tussled with.” He smiles to himself, a chuckle rumbling his chest. “It was Lughnasadh. I was here for the festival.”

Ciaran recounts their first day together. Everyone watches him, but I’m watching Aurora .

So I see the glimmer of tears in her eyes, the subtle way she lifts a hand to her cheek to dab the moisture away when it slips down her face.

I wish I could have known this Lilith. I wish I could’ve seen Aurora with her, watched them interact and experienced the love between them.

“I returned home after the festival, but before leaving, I promised Lilith I would visit her again. And I did. Every year until her passing.” His smile flickers sadly. “It was our tradition.”

So, he already knew of Lilith’s passing, then.

I try to recall the past year with my uncle and remember quite suddenly the day that I found him beside the river, sitting alone on a stone beneath the draping willows, a single flower held in his hand. When I sat down beside him and he turned to look at me, I saw tears in his eyes.

He didn’t tell me much, only that he’d recently lost a dear friend.

And now I know who he was speaking of.

“I can’t believe she didn’t tell me,” Aurora says, a hint of hurt in her voice.

Ciaran reaches out, placing a hand atop hers.

“Please do not think ill of her. It was a decision we made many, many years ago, to keep what we had a secret, to protect it so it was our own. Sometimes, the world seeks to take that which is yours, to twist and morph it into something else, something different from what it once was.” His lips lift slightly in the corners.

“Over the years, we were able to keep what we had secret. Safe. It was not a reflection of you or your sister. Though I must say, I’m delighted to have finally met you.

There were times I could not get Lilith to stop talking about silver Selene and her little sprout.

” Ciaran chuckles. “You two were the dearest things to her.”

Another few tears streak down Aurora’s cheeks, but she doesn’t bother to wipe them away.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” She reaches out and takes Ciaran into her arms, tucking her head against his chest and making his brows rise in surprise.

But then he sets his cake plate aside and returns the gesture, wrapping his arms around her.

“Do you think... you could visit again? Tell me more stories about Auntie?” Aurora says quietly.

Ciaran’s lips pull into a gentle smile as he holds Aurora close. “I’d be honored. And I think Lilith would like that.”

And there are suddenly a few other pairs of misty eyes about the room, including mine.