Page 38 of Twisting Twilight (Homesteader Hearth Witch #9)

Thistle the fearsome faelene had returned to her preferred perch on top of Violet’s head, wings folded and tail tucked neatly around her feet.

“Thank you,” I told her. I wanted to talk to her more, if she spoke, but my heart demanded I turn to Flora first.

The garden gnome looked a little worse for wear, a mite thin, and there was no sign of her doll dress anywhere.

At some point she’d fashioned some overalls out of green leaves and vines, and she’d altered her quintessential garden gnome hat into a Robin Hood-esque bycoket to better keep her brown curls out of her face.

The thorn of a honey locust tree was thrust into her belt like a sword.

“Found your breadcrumbs,” she told me.

“Sunflowers are your favorite.” I wet my lips. “Listen?—”

“I was wrong, cider witch,” Flora blurted.

“But—”

“Shut up and let me say this!” The garden gnome began to pace, the leaves of her overalls rustling. “First of all, do you know how much it sucked following y’all on water and not land? Ugh, gimme good dark soil any day. That alone should tell you how determined I was to get back to you.”

“Go on,” Daphne drawled.

“I was angry, and a bit jealous too, if I’m being honest. You’re becoming so amazing, Misty—you have primal magic, for crying out loud—and I thought you were being selfish.

Maybe even cowardly.” She sent me an apprehensive look to gauge my reaction and blustered out a sigh.

“But I know, I really do, that it’s all so new to you.

That forcing you to go back to the tavern might’ve been disastrous, for all of us.

” She sucked in a breath. “And Mare was right. I’ve been holding you responsible for Ossian, for Redbud, for us being here, for everything.

I’ve just felt so helpless and I was taking it out on you. I’m sorry, Misty.”

From her leafy overalls, she pulled out a pressed sunflower waterlily. Her voice was uncharacteristically soft. Vulnerable. “Thanks for not giving up on me. Coulda used one or two of these last night, though.”

“A witch’s gotta sleep sometime.” Leaning forward, I cupped my hand over her tiny shoulder.

“True friends call each out on their mistakes, and true friends learn from them. I only have my own perspective, and I’m so thankful you’re brave enough to help me see a different one.

” I flashed her a wicked grin. “Even if I think you’re wrong. ”

“Hey—”

I whisked the garden gnome into my arms, squeezing her tight like I had Sawyer. The plucky gnome didn’t squirm but threw her arms around my neck. “Just teasing,” I murmured. “Thanks for not giving up on me either.”

“Never, cider witch. Even after y’all left and I was wearing a bare spot by that riverbank, I knew you weren’t giving up on Beaver and Coon. Not really.”

“Never. Just… delayed.” That still sat like rotten egg salad in my stomach, though. I pulled her away, setting her down on my knee. “Do you know anything?”

Flora shook her head. “Heard Ruben howling up a storm, but the fire got put out quick enough and there wasn’t another magical light show. He didn’t use the ferry again, so…”

So Emmett and Cody could be taken. Or they were all hostages under the Erusian Blades. Or everybody was just fine as fresh peach pie.

I chewed on the bottom corner of my lip, worrying. “We’ll get them back.”

“I know.”

Flora slipped off my lap onto the bench to face our friends.

As she apologized to Daphne and Shari, I found my attention drifting back to Thistle.

Her head was cocked to the side as she examined Kian with the same intensity as if he were a bird caught in a snare and she was just waiting for him to tire himself out before pouncing.

He hadn’t stopped panicking since the faelene had returned, but the vines held him fast to the bench and prevented him from capsizing the boat again.

“Your soul looks tasty,” she told him. Her voice sounded young but confident and was higher in pitch than I expected.

The junior scholar bawled behind his gag.

The sharp-eyed faelene noticed my attention then, whiskers flaring with curiosity. Her pupils sharpened to slits as I carefully approached, using the junior scholar’s rigid shoulder to balance myself as I stepped over his bench.

“Thank you for bringing my cat back to me,” I said.

Thistle hissed at that, ears flattening. Her fur bristled, wings flaring out in an intimidation display.

It worked, too. My magic prickled, surging to our defense, but I kept it under control. It was easier to subdue Death’s Sword now that I had taken the time to fully understand and become intimate with whole of my magic.

Sawyer wiggled free of Shari and scrambled over to us, using Kian as a launch pad to land on my shoulder.

Fiachna hissed at him. Ignoring the opossum, he said quickly, “She doesn’t mean it like the fae do.

I’m not property. I’m her cat and she’s my witch.

It’s more like, uh, what you told Onyx about me. ”

“Who’s Onyx?” I asked him. And was that a blush I heard in my tabby tomcat’s voice?

“Faelene leader of this territory. Sorta.” Sawyer shook his head. “Later.” He turned back to Thistle. “She is good , Thistle, just like I told you. Please stay?”

The winged cat examined me some more, eyes flicking from Sawyer’s kneading paws on my shoulder to my fingers gently massaging his scruff.

She relaxed slowly, her glossy black fur smoothing out and her wings folding.

Suddenly, they disappeared entirely as if she’d never had them.

Then, appearing as your average run-of-the-mill domestic shorthair, she slunk down the figurehead into the bottom of the boat.

She came to a stop at my feet and craned her head back to gaze up me with unblinking green eyes.

“Sawyer spoke to me about tuna treats,” she said. “I would like to try some.”

That young voice was treacherously disarming. She was the kind of cat who could beguile you with her sweet face before she clawed you apart.

Dangerously cute.

My palms broke out into a sweat. “Oh, um, I don’t have any with me. They’re all back in Redbud. Sorry.”

The tip of her tail gave an irritated flick. Yeesh, strike one for trying to win this faelene over.

She squared her shoulders. “He also mentioned cuddles. If you don’t have tuna treats, I would like to try those then.”

“Well”—I swallowed nervously—“those require me to pick you up and touch you. Is that okay?”

Her green gaze snapped to Sawyer. He nodded emphatically.

“You may,” she agreed after much consideration. “But don’t touch my belly.”

Wouldn’t dream of it. Holding my breath, I bent down and carefully hefted the faelene into my arms.

“It works better if you relax,” Sawyer said from my shoulder.

She gave him a glare and did her best, though she was still very tense.

“I’m going to begin cuddling now,” I announced.

With a gentle hand, I swept down from the crown of her head to the base of her tail.

It didn’t linger there, knowing that could be a sensitive spot for some cats.

When she didn’t shred me to pieces, I stroked her again.

And again. Then I scratched lightly behind her ears and massaged the scruff at the base of her neck.

Sawyer threw Fiachna a smug look, rekindling their old rivalry. Guess who befriended a faelene? Me. Beat that.

The opossum hunkered down and whined.

Risking my fingers, I inched around to rub the side of Thistle’s face and under her chin.

Just like that, the fearsome faelene went boneless in my arms.

“Ooo,” she purred. “I think I’ll stay.”

From where he was still gagged and lashed to the bench, Kian sobbed.