Page 34 of Twisting Twilight (Homesteader Hearth Witch #9)

The pines rooted themselves right to the very edge of the riverbank, leaving no swath of grass or pebbled shore between forest and water. Tethered to one such tree was a dugout canoe with a metal ring jutting out from bow and stern and threaded with a thick rope. A cable ferry.

The rings’ outsides were coated with pitch and all manner of bark and twigs so the metal wouldn’t catch the moons’ light. To the untrained eye, the canoe would be mistaken for a floating log. Floating purposefully across the river, not downstream, but that was splitting hairs. Probably.

“Everyone inside,” Ruben ordered. “Lie two by two.”

“We’re not all here,” Flora protested.

The half-ogre was already lowering himself into the canoe, the water slapping against the sides as the canoe dipped with his weight. He lay down and braced his feet against two divots carved into the sides for that very purpose. “We cannot wait. Wielder, untie us.”

“There are red stags back there.” I frantically searched the trees as I fussed with the knot, wishing for sight of Emmett and Cody.

“You said patrols didn’t come here,” Kian cried, yelping as Ruben seized his shoulder and yanked him flat.

“I said it was safer fifty years ago,” the half-ogre snapped. “Get in or you’ll blow this for everyone.”

“What about Lori?” Shari whispered, hunkering down in Daphne’s arms. Fiachna had quickly transferred himself to Kian, snuggling tight against the junior scholar’s neck. He was so broad no one could settle down beside him except Flora.

“She’s already in hiding,” the half-ogre said, though his voice was strained with worry.

“Wait! I see them.” In the lantern light under the tavern’s eaves, I caught snatches of brown friar frocks and stamping hooves. Emmett and Cody were rustling the stags.

With a bolt of impatience, I sent a concentrated Scouting Spell towards the nearest friar frock.

Emmett. The magical ping made the portly man jump.

He turned toward the forest just as I pressed my hand against the ground.

With the aid of my sparkle vision, I grew a briar helper at his feet that snagged his hem and gave an insistent tug towards the river.

Though the old man couldn’t see me, he shook his head and pulled away from the briar.

He flapped a hand in my direction— Shoo!

—and disappeared behind the front of the tavern.

Heart thudding, I released my hold on the magic sustaining the briar helper. The mooring line slipped from my hand like a slick root as I slumped into a hunch at the stern. With a grunt, Ruben began hauling the rope hand over hand through the metal rings. The canoe cut silently through the water.

“But Coon and Beaver,” Daphne whispered.

“Aren’t coming,” I mumbled. My gaze remained on the snatches of illuminated tavern between the trees even as they shank into the distance.

“But we’re supposed to stick together!” Flora protested.

“They must’ve thought they couldn’t get to the boat in time,” Daphne said.

Ruben yanked on the rope cable with practiced efficiency. “I’ll bring them if it’s safe.”

Unsettled, Flora left Kian’s side and crawled over to me, climbing up to perch on my knee. Her hands gripped the edge of the canoe to steady herself. She gave me a fierce look. “When we reach the other side, you go on ahead. I’ll stay by the river and wait for— What was that?”

We strained forward, listening. There was so much to hear: the winter wind barreling down the river valley, the smack of water against hull, the chorus of our ragged breaths, the fwap-fwap-fwap of the heavy wet rope through Ruben’s callused hands.

“Ruben, are there ospreys here?” I called over my shoulder. “Water hawks?”

“No,” he grunted. His meaty hands hauled the wet rope without pause, sprinkling the canoe occupants with cold river water.

“Those are screams,” Flora whispered.

We both shrieked as a blast of green light erupted from the tavern. The windows burst and a belch of smoke shot from the chimney.

“Lori!” Ruben cried, shoving upright.

We all cried out as the canoe pitched violently to starboard.

“Steady on!” Kian clutched his overcoat and opossum tight to his chest.

“That wasn’t a patrol,” the half-ogre snarled. My skin crawled at the venom in the male’s voice. “Those were Blades.”

Ruben yanked Kian into a choke hold. “You never said Blades were after you.”

Kian squeaked and pawed at the beefy forearms intent on squeezing his throat and head into a pulp. Caught unawares and on his back, he had no defense. Fiachna hissed and charged, clamping his jaws around the half-ogre’s wrist.

Ruben didn’t even flinch, squeezing harder. “If they hurt Lori?—”

“Let him go!”

A whip of green magic lashed the half-ogre across the cheek.

When he wrenched his attention off his suffocating cousin, he found a green light fading from Flora’s hand, not mine.

Ruben’s gaze flicked between me and Flora and noted the set of our jaws.

With a growl, he shoved Kian away and slammed himself supine once more.

The canoe jumped as Ruben hauled rope at double time, the sounds of the river drowning out Kian’s gasps.

We yelped as the canoe slammed into the opposite rooty bank.

“Get out,” Ruben roared.

Daphne and Shari practically threw themselves over the side and splashed onto shore. Kian, moving much more deliberately but still very quickly, hoisted himself onto the edge of the canoe and leapt to the bank, catching a tree around the trunk to keep him from tumbling back into the water.

Flora and I stayed right where we were.

“We can help you,” the garden gnome began.

“ Out ,” the half-ogre bellowed.

“Misty, do as he says,” Daphne said sharply. “You most of all must continue.”

She was right, of course. Hating every second it took me, I exited the canoe.

“Honey.” Daphne’s voice was fiercer than the wind whipping off the winter river. “You too. You’ll just be a liability, and Ruben can’t be responsible for anyone else’s safety besides Lori’s right now.”

With a huff, Flora scrambled the length of the canoe and up onto the bow. She hadn’t even jumped before the half-ogre’s meaty fists began yanking rope in the opposite direction.

When she fell towards the water with a squeak, it wasn’t a vine that caught her, but a gust of air. Hands miming, I guided the air and my suspended friend safely into the forest. Then we all stood mute as the canoe raced back towards the opposite bank.

“I think I smell smoke,” Shari said in a small voice.

Reddish light pierced through the pines and dappled the black river. The Erusian Blades had set something on fire.

Kian’s voice was hoarse. “We should go. If they search the river, they might find the ferry. Then they’ll know exactly where we’ve gone.”

Nobody moved, except to turn towards me. The decision was mine to make, apparently. My guts twisted like the time I’d eaten spinach quiche that had been left out too long in the sun. “We can’t stay.”

“I told you to be careful,” Flora shouted, kicking my shin. “If you hadn’t been flaunting your magic, those Blades never would’ve discovered us!”

“Honey,” Daphne exclaimed. “Keep your voice down.”

“I was careful!” I danced back a step to avoid another kick. “At least I was trying to be!”

“You have no idea what drew the Erusians here,” Daphne said. “It could’ve been coincidence. The Happy Hound’s the only service station for miles in either direction—Kian said so.”

“I did indeed.”

“Coincidence? With our luck? You don’t honestly believe that, Mare, do you?

” Flora shook her head. “We have to go back! Coon and Beaver aren’t like us, Misty.

They don’t have any magic to protect themselves.

No weird animal-whispering like Mare, no weird glittering blood like Quills, whatever the heck that does! ”

Shari hugged her arms across her body and looked down at her toes.

Flora thrust her finger behind her. “You should go back there and go all primal witch on them! You’ve got more control now, so use it. Get our friends back.”

“I’m not charging in there without a plan,” I fired back. “Those Erusians are worse than magic hunters and I have no idea what they’re capable of. It could be a trap, and if they ‘return my magic to their goddess,’ this entire quest will have been for nothing!”

“So you’ll leave our friends behind so you can save your brother?”

“And Redbud!”

“That is enough,” Daphne shrilled. “We are not doing this. We are not fighting amongst ourselves.”

We barely heard her. “They chose to stay behind so we could escape,” I shouted at the gnome. “And we don’t know that they’re captured. Their amulets still work on that side of the river. We still need to come back this way, so?—”

“If that was Arthur back there, you wouldn’t think twice,” Flora sneered. “Then again, you did abandon him at the castle.”

I reeled back, stunned. Mortified.

“ Flora ,” Daphne admonished.

Not even Shari piped up to correct her.

The garden gnome slung the tears out of her eyes, but her voice was steady. “That’s what you do, cider witch. Abandon everyone and everything not essential to your mission. To save your family. To save your brother. What about our friends? Our families? Sometimes I wish you’d never come to Redbud.”

Ashamed, horrified, and probably a billion other knife-to-the-stomach emotions, I looked from Flora to the rest of the original Crafting Circle.

Did they feel the same way and had just been bottling it up inside until now?

They’d been nothing but supportive of me, but did they secretly harbor resentment?

Had I missed the signs because, as Flora had accused me, I’d been too self-absorbed?

Shari still hugged herself tight, avoiding eye contact with everyone and looking miserable. Daphne, on the other hand, looked the very embodiment of a thundercloud.

“I, for one, am happy Misty came to Redbud,” she declared.

Flora snorted.

Daphne snatched Flora up by the front of her doll costume with the speed and surety honed by decades of catching feral cats. “That young woman didn’t ask to be embroiled in a prophesy, and you , of all people, should understand the gravity of such a burden, fairy .”

Flora squeaked at the word, but Daphne wasn’t done.

“And better she come to Redbud, an open magic town full of kind-hearted, accepting people who know a thing or two about defending themselves than some other town without a lick of sense or magical know-how. Think of those people who were saved by our sacrifice. And while you’re at it, stop blaming her for other people’s actions.

If you truly want to hold someone responsible, look to the Stag Man! ”

Daphne set the garden gnome roughly on the ground then and smoothed out her dress. “Now, if you can come to your senses, we are continuing on to the Court of Shoals.”

To my surprise, the regal matron did not wait for a reply. She simply took hold of my hand, seating it firmly in her own grip. Then she took Shari’s hand and hauled the both of us after her. “Kian, you’re up front. We need to know where we’re going.”

The junior scholar jumped into action. “Yes, my lady.”

I started to look over my shoulder, but Daphne gave my hand a jerk. “Eyes front, Misty.” She swallowed past a lump in her throat and told me briskly, “If you focus too hard on the past you’ll never live your present.”

Were we really going to leave Flora behind?

I could barely process that thought let alone put one foot in front of the other. My heart was still sawing itself apart on the arrows of Flora’s words with every beat. On my own fears that she was right.

Numbly, I let Daphne lead me deeper into the Court of Tides. Flora did not follow.