Page 24 of WitchBorn

“Then it’s rude to walk in it.” He continued his pacing while I pondered that he’d been thoughtful. “What power do the mateshave to fae? You said the Summer king has a mate. Anything you know about them?”

“They are sickly sweet together. Chosen by the Elementals rather than the Weavers.”

“Capital E and Capital W? Titles instead of people?”

Observant little shit. “Yes.”

“What makes you think that the Weavers chose the Autumn king for you and the Elementals,” he wriggled his hands in the air like he knew what it all meant, “chose the Summer king and his mate?”

“Because the fae tried to choose a mate for Summer and he rejected them for the one the Elemental picked.”

“Are the Weavers fae?”

No one really knew. I suspected they were because they cursed so much of mortality with their tangled fates. “I don’t know.”

“Why do you think your mate was picked by the Weavers?”

“My Vision is a curse from the Weavers, and I’ve seen the Autumn king in my dreams for a long time.”

“The dragon?”

“He has a human form.”

“But you said you can’t see your future.”

“I didn’t know he was my mate. Only that his fate was tied to mine somehow.”

“Isn’t that literally the meaning of mate? Tied together by fate?”

“I saw a man trapped in stone. When he turned into a giant dragon and devoured half the Winter court, I thought he’d end me too. Deaths are fate, too.”

Finn froze, his expression a mask of confusion.

“What?”

“A man trapped in stone? Han Solo like? Sorry, don’t know if you get theStar Warsreference, but there is this movie…”

“I’ve seen the damn movie, and yes, sort of Han Solo like. Why?”

“Because I’ve been having a nightmare since I was a kid that I got stuck in stone and couldn’t breathe.”

Eighteen

WESLEY

Istalked back to his side to capture his face again between my hands, searching for anything that meant he was fae or something more than the handsome young man he presented. He didn’t flinch this time, rather stared back with curiosity.

“It’s okay if you kiss me again,” he said.

“Uh.” Why did the thought of that short-circuit my brain?

“Search me for power or whatever? I don’t have any, but whatever makes you feel better.”

I let him go. He frowned. “Show me where these berries are,” I said.

He shrugged and led the way. Eight thousand questions and I was still without answers. I tugged the berries off the bush, piling them into the hoodie pocket and wishing for something more substantial or to be able to change into my fucking Stag form.

Finn sat leaning against the roots of the tree we’d created as a shelter. Only one would fit at a time, and that hadn’t been an issue until I couldn’t shift. He looked tired, lips dry, stomach gurgling from time to time. Hungry and thirsty, still I’d pestered him until I was certain he didn’t know.