Page 7 of The Witch’s Spell (Season of the Witch #4)
Rowan
AT THIS TIME OF YEAR, night blankets the land early, and these days I walk back from my duty to Faunwood in the darkness. Some nights are bright, with the moon lighting my way, but tonight, the moonlight is thin, obscured by thick gray clouds.
It was a beautiful winter day, so I was surprised when the storm first appeared on the horizon, moving quickly toward us.
One moment it was sunny and I was enjoying a warm scone in the bakery, and the next I stepped outside to feel a bite to the air and smell the cold, crisp scent of snow on the wind.
Now, as I trudge home, the snow is already falling, the fat flakes catching on my cloak as I pull my hood closer to my face.
This area is known for turbulent storms, but something about this one feels... different. Like there’s an energy to it, wanting to spin out of control.
I need to get home to Aurora .
Quickening my pace, I tip my head down and press through the snow. Each step I take, more flakes blanket me and the ground, and by the time I make it halfway down Brookside Road, there are already a couple inches on the ground.
This is going to be a big storm. I may not be a shifter or a witch, but I can still feel it in my bones.
In the distance, made hazy by the snow, a light bobs through the darkness. It swings to and fro, casting a warm golden glow over the trees. As I draw closer, I can make out the face of the person carrying the lantern: Alden.
“Hey!” he calls out over the wind, which has only been growing in strength since I started the trek home.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask as I step into the circle of light flickering from the lantern held aloft in Alden’s hand.
“Aurora sent me,” he says.
Of course she did, my precious queen. She’s always worried about us, even when she need not be.
“Strange storm,” I remark as Alden turns and we begin back the way he came. Our boots crunch over the snow as the wind whistles through the pines and skeletal white-gray aspens.
“Came on quick,” Alden says in that matter-of-fact tone of his. “Afraid this isn’t the only surprise of the night though.”
I narrow my eyes as my cloak snaps in the wind. “What happened?”
Alden takes a big breath.
And then he tells me.
I have to physically restrain myself from slamming through the front door. There’s another shifter here? And according to Alden, it’s Faolan’s twin brother, the one who left all those scars marring his body.
One shifter is plenty . Now I’ve got two—no, three —to contend with?
The goddesses must find it hilarious to torment me.
I step into the house, snowflakes falling from my hood as I shove it back.
Faolan is lurking in the parlor doorway, looking broody. He turns and levels a stare at me. Great, seems like he’s in a good mood, if the deep scowl and narrowed eyes are anything to go by.
“She’s fine ,” he snaps, likely already reading the tension in my posture. “Back to not trusting me?”
Ignoring his remarks, I yank off my boots, sling my damp cloak onto a hook in the foyer, and then step up beside Faolan and glance into the parlor.
And there are two unfamiliar people sitting on the floor in front of the fire, each enjoying a cup of Aurora’s tea. The man glances up at me, and his eyes are a vivid blue, just like Faolan’s. My stomach tightens as his lips pull up on one side.
From the kitchen behind me, Aurora calls out, “I’m in here!”
I pull back from the doorway.
“Told you she’s fine,” Faolan grumbles.
Alden finally makes it to the cottage—I hauled ass back here after he told me about Cathal—and steps into the house with a draft of frigid air. White flakes adorn his dark curls, but they quickly begin to melt in the warmth of the cottage.
I leave him and Faolan in the foyer and step into the kitchen. Immediately, a wall of heat washes over me, chasing the cold from my fingers and toes.
Aurora is chatting with Harrison, saying something about Yule, but I don’t catch all of it. Then Harrison notices me in the doorway, and Aurora turns from her cutting board, flashing me that gentle smile I love so much.
“Did Alden find you?” she asks as I ease up behind her, my arms wrapping around her waist to cradle her belly.
“Mm-hmm.” I press my face into her neck. Her skin is hot against mine.
She lets out a squeal. “You’re freezing!”
“Yeah, that’s what happens when you get caught in a blizzard on your way home.” Chin resting on her shoulder now, I cast my gaze out the kitchen window, where a wall of white snowflakes obscures my view of the garden. “Are the girls okay?” I ask.
“Sure are. I fed them in the coop tonight. They’re all tucked in for the storm.”
If the unfamiliar shifters weren’t here, I’d probably grab the girls and bring them in to sleep in the parlor (Aurora doesn’t mind, though I know it irks Faolan to no end), but I don’t trust them enough to bring the hens around. Speaking of...
“So, that’s Faolan’s brother?”
Aurora stops chopping potatoes—it smells like she’s making a vegetable soup—and lets out a sigh.
“Yes. Cathal. He’s the one who . . . You know . . .”
I let out a grunt. “And the woman?”
“His mate, Orla.” Aurora’s tone lightens. “She’s nice.”
I’m not convinced, but I don’t tell Aurora this. Instead, I ask, “Why are they here?”
She resumes chopping the potatoes. “I don’t know. They said they just wanted to see Faolan, but...”
“But Faolan doesn’t believe them.”
She shakes her head, long green braid shifting along her back. “No.”
My gaze flicks to the window again. “Are they staying?”
At this point, I’ve come to expect Aurora to drag every shivering thing into the cottage, so it doesn’t surprise me when she says, “I think they should. The storm’s just getting worse.”
I reach around her to snag a sliced piece of carrot and crunch down on it while shifting to lean my back against the counter. “Does Faolan know? That you want them to stay?”
Aurora meets my eyes and bites her bottom lip. “No...”
I can’t help the laugh that slips out. “Well, guess things are going to get interesting tonight.”
“NO,” FAOLAN SAYS, VOICE FIRM and cold.
We just finished dinner, and Aurora asked Orla and Cathal to stay the night. Faolan quickly objected, and Aurora dragged him into the kitchen, where I’m enjoying another slice of sourdough, trying not to get crumbs on the counter.
“They’re not staying.” Faolan’s voice is more akin to a growl than anything .
“Have you looked outside?” Aurora asks, propping her hands on her hips. Faolan towers over her, lips twisted into a scowl. But she doesn’t flinch away, doesn’t even bat an eyelash as he snarls. “It’s a blizzard outside. There’s nowhere for them to go.”
“They can stay at the inn.”
“That’s a thirty-minute walk on a summer day. You’d send them out in this weather? Truly?”
Without hesitation, Faolan nods. “Yes.”
Aurora rolls her eyes and presses her fingertips to her brow. “I know you don’t like him—I don’t either, frankly—but I wouldn’t feel right casting them out. Just one night, until the storm lets up, and then they’ll be gone. All right?”
Faolan looks from Aurora to me as if asking for backup.
And typically, I’d be on his side, telling Aurora how dangerous it is to have strange shifters in the house.
But to be honest, despite Faolan’s earlier quip, I have come to trust him, and I know he’d never let Cathal lay a finger, or claw, on our witch.
He’s become as much one of her protectors as Alden and I are.
So now I get to be entertained watching Aurora push him around. Best part of my day so far.
Harrison meows at my feet. As Aurora and Faolan go back to arguing, I rip a tiny piece of fluffy bread off the slice and hand it to him. He sniffs it, then snags it from my fingers.
Even he knows Aurora’s sourdough is like magic.
Faolan lets out a heavy sigh while dragging his hands down his face. His scruff has grown out a bit, darkening his chin and jaw. “Fuck. Fine. One night, and they leave as soon as the storm lets up. ”
Aurora smiles victoriously.
“I mean it,” Faolan says.
“I promise.” Aurora reaches up to place a hand upon his cheek. “As soon as the storm ends, they’re gone.”