Page 67 of Twisting Twilight (Homesteader Hearth Witch #9)

CHAPTER FORTY

The witches cried out as their coven was restored and rushed towards their youngest member.

They swarmed to rejoice and touch him and welcome him back into the family and the circle, but he only pushed the grimoire into our mother’s hands.

She’d clearly been expecting a hug, as she had with me, and her shocked face reddened.

But Marten ignored them all and stepped forward on shaky legs.

They remembered their strength and his gait evened, and he approached me with purpose.

I rose from where I’d sunk to my knees, and he stopped an arm’s length away. His brown gaze wandered over my face and body like he was looking at me with fresh eyes. Then he swallowed audibly.

“You ransomed me.” His voice was so hoarse. His eyes fluttered shut as he shuddered, reliving his time in the Unseelie prison within the span of a second.

Heat pricked the backs of my eyes. “You sacrificed for me first.”

Marten hadn’t known it at the time, none of us had, the true requirements to become a robed elder. That a sacrifice of magic was needed to keep me safe and hidden. Upon learning it, he’d still made the choice. Whatever his initial motives, he’d still made it.

“I never hated you, Meadow,” he whispered. My brother reached for me with one hand, unsure, and I closed the distance between us.

His heart was hammering, his arms so tight. As if hugging me proved he truly was in the mortal lands and this all wasn’t a figment of his imagination. His voice was ragged against my ear. “I was just stupid and young and jealous?—”

“I wasn’t much better,” I admitted, pulling away.

I’d acted as if a position in the circle was my birthright, backed by my status as Grandmother’s prodigy, instead of something to be earned.

“And we can hash out who was the worse sibling later. You aren’t the only one I have to help tonight. Plus you smell terrible.”

He snorted, tossing his hair like it was still perfectly styled and not a shaggy mess. “Speak for yourself.”

But he stood aside so I could face our family. They were all weary but hopeful, a new light within them now that the Circle of Nine had been remade.

“I have to go,” I told them. A murmur of protest rose from the coven, but I shook my head. “I know you came to Redbud for the grimoire?—”

“And you ,” Mom said hotly.

“—and you stayed because Marten got kidnapped. You have the grimoire and your lost elder, and the prophesy you all worked to prevent has come to pass. There is only the fallout to deal with now. As a coven, you have no reason to stay. But I ask that you do.”

“What do you need?” Dad asked.

“Tod,” Grandmother said sharply.

He ignored her.

“I will deal with Ossian—he cannot escape. But he might try if the entire Hawthorne coven engages him. Especially if the barrier around the town is down?” I hedged.

Uncle Badger nodded. “It’s down. Stag, Boar, Rose, Lilac, and this wolf that looks like a spitting image of Lewellyn Chase are here. They’ve gone to help the Coalition.”

“My babies,” Aunt Peony breathed. Cousin Boar was at least thirty, his younger sisters not far behind, but to any mother, even adult children were still precious.

“Since when do Hawthornes help a pack of mangey animals?” Hyacinth exclaimed.

“Arthur is not a mangey animal ,” Otter rebuked his mother, “and neither are his Coalition.”

“Who’s Arthur?” Marten wanted to know.

“Big burly bear shifter who would give Boar a run for his money,” Otter said. “Seriously, the man’s got biceps as big as my head. He and Meadow are kinda together. O-or something.”

“ What? ” My brother spun towards me. “How are you hooking up with a shifter? They’re forbidden?—”

“Helping the Coalition is exactly what I’m asking you all to do,” I said loudly, speaking over the din. “Keep the magic hunters away from the elm tree. From Ossian, too. Help the townsfolk. Do whatever you can. I eradicated the sluagh but there are still mallaithe, so be careful.”

“And you’ll do what, exactly?” Grandmother demanded. “Take on the Stag Man alone?”

You made me take him on alone when you kept that prophesy from me. I took a breath to calm down. “I won’t be alone,” I answered. “My friends and I have a plan.”

Sawyer yowled his agreement.

“Your friends? Untrained mortals with a thimbleful of magic between them?—”

“My friends are the reason why you’re out of the dungeons and the rest of you aren’t confined to the farmhouse.”

“But your core, your magic,” Mom protested. “Even with the circle remade, we’re all drained, and you’ve done more than the rest of us. You must be nearly tapped out.”

There was a reason why I’d left my boots and socks back at the portal.

So that every footstep would ground me, draw magic up from the soles of my feet and into my core.

And that core wasn’t like theirs—not a flower that bloomed and released magic.

Mine was an oak tree, fully grown and fully fused into every cell in my body.

“I’m up to a third.” And it was replenishing quickly.

I left that to hang in the air while I prepared myself for the ordeal ahead.

Each second spent here was a second I wasn’t helping Redbud.

Arthur. With quick movements, I unclasped the oilskin cloak and handed it to Marten.

The cloak would just slow me down or serve as a useful thing for my enemy to snag during a fight, and my brother needed it more, his skin was pebbled with goose bumps.

Then I unloaded what little remained in my bra pockets into my pack, except the Hunting Spell, and added in the blue sack of muirdris treasure too.

If I took a shot to the chest, I didn’t want broken glass making the matter worse.

Nor did I want treasure to spill out and create a twisted-ankle hazard.

The marbles the pixies had gifted me with all those months ago had fulfilled that quota for the year and no mistake.

I made to leave my pack by the moonflowers to retrieve later when Thistle piped up, “Keep it. There’s space at the top for me to ride in there. Better for me to conserve energy in this dead realm.”

“You said your power was infinite,” Sawyer sputtered. “And this land isn’t dead. It’s just… sleeping. But only when compared to yours!”

Thistle rolled her green eyes and made two quick hops up to my shoulder before slinking into the pack. “Maybe you should just be thankful I’m not fighting you for cuddling space in her arms. Because I’d win.”

Sawyer was about to retort when he sensed the intensity of my aura shuttling down the bond. Now was not the time for quips, complaints, or snarky remarks. Arthur. After I checked that Faebane was secure in its sheath at my back, the tabby tomcat leapt into my aforementioned arms, settling down.

I turned once again to my family but didn’t wait for their attention.

That would only open the door for debate or more erroneous chatter that would just waste time.

I didn’t need their permission, I didn’t need their blessing, I didn’t need anything from them, I was shocked to discover.

At least, nothing that the friends and family I’d found in Redbud couldn’t already provide.

The coven would do as I instructed or not.

I didn’t even raise my voice as I announced, “I’m going now. ”

And I went.