Page 74 of Twisting Twilight (Homesteader Hearth Witch #9)

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

With steady steps, I approached the high lord of the Court of Beasts. He shifted his attention from the elm tree to my face, his a mask of practiced neutrality.

“You let my brother live. After a fashion.”

That didn’t merit a reply. I hadn’t kept him alive for Callan’s conscience. “You are the true high lord of the Court of Beasts. Can you undo your brother’s magic? Return this town’s residents to their original bodies, wipe the illusions from their minds?”

“And if I can?”

Dealing with fae always came at a price.

“Then I will consider your sins against the mortal realm paid for.” Paid for, but not forgiven. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to do that, not even after his wife succeeded in her revenge.

“I don’t owe your realm anything.”

“I think you do, more than you know. For it is this realm that holds the key to saving yours. I know you’re just dying to find out why I survived the Twilight Court when others have failed.”

The high lord’s expression hardened. “You’re very fae, for a witch. And you do not get to exploit me ad nauseam with the deliverance of my realm. Your bill will come due.”

“But not today. Set right what your brother has ruined and that day will come all the faster. And be nice about it—no one needs to go to the hospital for sudden shock or extensive psycho-therapy.”

His upper lip curled into a sneer as he crouched down and hovered his hand a fingernail’s breath away from the soil. His magic flared, his green eyes fluttering, and after only a second— a second —he rose. “It is done. Nicely .”

“Thank you,” I said, partly because it was my habit, partly because I knew it would irk him.

The muscle in his jaw feathered. “Now when can I expect?—”

“Goodbye, my lord.” It was a succinct farewell that doubled as a polite dismissal.

He was not needed here, nor wanted. My future dealings with the fae, for there would be many, I was sure, would be conducted with those I trusted most: Kian, Greatest-Aunt Briony, and Shannon. He did not make the list.

When it was clear he would get nothing else from me, no matter how hard he tried to bend me with his aura, the high lord inclined his head. It was the only deference he’d ever allow himself, then he signaled to his soldiers. They vanished, nothing but the wind of their passage rustling the leaves.

I watched them go with my sparkle vision, marking the location of the hawthorn tree for a later time.

Blinking back into the physical realm, I turned to my family. Before I could speak, my mother cut in, “I am owed a hug.”

Right she was.

Smiling, I stepped forward to both offer and receive. Mom hauled Marten into our embrace too, before he could think about sneaking away. One by one, the coven converged and wrapped each other up tight in creaking battle leather and woolen cloaks.

“You can stay at the farmhouse if you don’t want to head back right away to Annesley Valley,” I offered. “I’m going to stay with Arthur tonight.”

Across the clearing, I was acutely aware of him half-turning towards me, that lopsided grin tugging at his mouth. My pulse fluttered like a fledgling’s wings on her first flight, and I spun away from the bear before he could (unintentionally or not) distract me further.

“I’ll be by sometime tomorrow,” I announced. “Tell the hobs for me? Oh, and Marten, you can’t leave without apologizing to them first for all those nasty names you called them when the coven attacked. And someone check on Mrs. White. And water my goldfish plant!”

“Why does that sound like you’re not coming back with us?” Marten cast our parents a worried frown. “Meadow, we crossed half a continent to?—”

“I need to speak to Grandmother alone for a moment,” I interrupted. “Please.”

She clearly wanted to do the same, and the coven hastily retreated to murmur quietly amongst themselves.

Apparently the Circle of Nine had only received the gist of what had happened at Hawthorne Manor while they were trapped in Redbud, and vice versa, so they all had a lot of catching up to do. I’d hear about it all tomorrow.

Grandmother approached like she was sliding on shadows. Her magic might be drained from all the recent exertions, but that took no toll on her posture.

“Thank you,” I said, speaking first.

The wrinkles at the corners of her eyes smoothed as her eyebrows arched. She hadn’t expected gratitude.

“You sacrificed yourself to the Stag Man to keep our family safe,” I elaborated. “To give me time to defeat him.”

She sniffed. “Yes, well, of course. It was my duty as the coven matriarch?—”

“An act that might not have been necessary if you’d just told me the truth in the beginning.”

Grandmother’s lips puckered at the interruption.

“I fell prey to the same sin,” I admitted, wincing with the truth.

But I couldn’t be better if I couldn’t face the facts.

“If I had just trusted my friends, they could’ve helped me and we all would’ve been better prepared.

The difference between us, and the smallest solace it provides me, is that I kept my secrets to protect them, but you kept yours to keep me ignorant. ”

“Now wait just a minute?—”

I lunged forward, consuming her personal space and challenging her authority.

She flinched, but she didn’t back away. “I felt what you did with the Revival Spell. You took our magic for your purpose, noble as it was. You were supposed to guide . We are not batteries for you and whatever agenda you push. We are a family first, then a coven. If the Stag Man’s prophesy had just passed me by, I truly wonder if you would’ve let me grow into the true witch I was always meant to be, or if you would’ve kept me in your shade. ”

My grandmother didn’t reply, but she did lurch back a step. From the startled look on her face, she didn’t seem to know the answer.

I stood my ground, the very space she had once occupied. “I can’t come back to the manor. I can’t live in a place, wondrous as it is, as a chess piece. I’ve made a new life here, one that I love and want to pursue.”

“You are a coven witch, Meadow,” she snapped. “Not some rogue hedge witch or wannabe practitioner. You belong with us!”

“I belong with the coven of my choosing. Their names are Sawyer, Flora, Daphne, and Shari.”

“And Thistle,” the faelene added in her high-pitched voice.

“And Thistle,” I echoed her.

My grandmother’s face had gone from a fatigued pale to an indignant pink and was now a furious red.

“But I am still Meadow Hawthorne,” I impressed upon her.

Gently. Firmly. “And you are still my grandmother. I will love you all endlessly, but not under the same roof. This is my life, my decision. I’m a mature witch and a mature woman now.

I don’t need your permission, but I would ask for your respect. ”

Grandmother let out a long sigh through a clenched jaw. Her ivy-green eyes, the color of all Hawthorne women, scrutinized me with every intent on finding a weakness she could exploit.

She didn’t find any.

In the moment that followed, I retrieved the iron cuffs that had fallen into the leaves.

The weave of hawthorn branches and berries had expanded to accommodate the hands of another witch before a drop of their blood tightened the cuffs around their wrists until death released them once again. “Here.”

Unable to admit defeat, she clasped her hands in front of her and straightened her back. “ Do see that you’re back at the farmhouse before one o’clock. We leave tomorrow afternoon.”

It wasn’t an apology, it wasn’t an attack, and it was fully a step in the right direction towards a future of healing and new beginnings. Ha-cha!

“Come along, Hawthornes,” she commanded.

None left without first saying goodbye. Mom gave me another too-long hug that I forced myself not to wiggle out of.

Dad gave me a “thanks for indulging your mother” look before pulling me close and pressing a kiss against my forehead.

Marten stood awkwardly in front of me and ran a hand through his hair.

“I just got you back. Or you just got me back. Or… something.”

“I have a cell phone now,” I supplied.

His expression brightened. “You do?”

The manor’s wards wouldn’t let him have a cell phone within the estate, but he could stash a burner somewhere beyond the boundary, and there was always the landline. He promised to call, and I knew he would.

Otter was next and lifted his cloak to show his flute stashed away in its inside pocket. “No more chaperoning, no more interruptions.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Have fun, Cuz.”

My cheeks ignited.

“I’m going to say goodbye to Ame.” With that, my bard of a cousin ambled off towards Shari and his grandmother’s ex-familiar.

Cousin Boar nearly broke my spine with his hug. “What’s with the young women of this family falling for shifters all of a sudden?” He looked over my head at Arthur, sizing up the shifter. “I think I can take him in an arm wrestle.”

“And I think you better get lost.” Cousin Rose gave him a shove out of her way and pounced on me. “Giiirl, we have loads to talk about. Bring some bubbly when you come over tomorrow and I’ll make mimosas à la Rose and we will discuss.”

“I am not getting drunk with you tomorrow,” I laughed.

“Hey, you say that now, but you never know what tomorrow will bring.” She gave me a wink and some cliché finger-guns. “See ya laters. If you can walk.” She gave Arthur a blatant once-over and threw me another wink.

Oh my Green Mother , I groaned inwardly.

To my surprise, Lilac was the last to say her farewells.

She looked… different, and it wasn’t wholly because of the silver scar on her neck.

My beautiful cousin didn’t hold herself like a porcelain doll anymore, her face a serene mask and her spine insufferably straight.

She was relaxed, and dare I say, a hair or two were out of place.