Page 30 of Wooing the Wiccan (Elf Magic #1)

Jared

SUMMER SOLSTICE

When Raeulfr mentioned that elves and dragons like to celebrate the solstice, I was thrilled that we would have this holiday in common.

He joined me and some of my witch friends for Beltane, but it didn’t hold any special meaning for him—except that it was important to me.

So it was an exciting thought that we’re both invested in the solstice.

This, though, is beyond my expectations.

I’m a solitary witch, but even when I’ve been with covens for celebrations, I’ve never experienced anything like this. Probably because all those witches were human and had no idea what kind of magic they could be capable of learning.

The dragons are hosting us, partly because they have this estate with lots of space and privacy, and partly because dragons love to throw a party.

Steffen is the only one who doesn’t look happy about it, and even he seems more mellow than the last time I saw him.

Not that it would be hard to achieve that—every encounter I have with him makes me grateful that Eoin is Raeulfr’s head of security, which is something I never thought I’d say.

Raeulfr and I have been here to visit the dragons before, at Brandt’s insistence, but there weren’t hundreds of people here then.

It’s amazing. Since the moment we arrived this morning, it’s been a whirlwind of meeting new people, eating, saying hello to familiar faces, playing games with the children—the kind of games that include spellcraft and magic—and soaking in the joy of this stunning summer day.

And then, as the afternoon shifted toward evening, the rituals of gratitude began.

For me, the solstice is a celebration of the sun and the energy and growth it brings to the world, but also of the change as the year begins to wane toward winter.

The sun’s cycle—the seasons—is inexorable, and we mark that with the solstices.

For the elves and, to a lesser but still large degree, the dragons, those things hold true, but today is also the time when they’re most able to connect with nature.

In winter, so many plants become dormant, but at midsummer, the world is alive and thriving.

It’s their holiday to give thanks for life and the eternal cycle of energy that sustains it.

I stand with the onlookers, awed, as children toss handfuls of seeds into the gardens and across the lawn, and then energy hums through the air as teens and younger adults coax the seeds to life.

At first, there’s nothing to see as roots are established, but then tiny shoots begin to unfurl, and those of us watching begin to cheer.

From shoots to seedlings to healthy plants and saplings they grow, and joy eddies inside me.

Raeulfr’s confident that I’ll be able to sustain my garden through the coming winter, and I can’t wait.

The annuals that were seeded burst into flower, marking the end of this particular ritual, and we all applaud the flushed and happy young people who took part.

I met nearly all of them earlier, and more than one confided shyly that it was their first time and they were nervous.

Seeing their smiles now, I nudge Raeulfr with my elbow.

“Go tell them what a great job they did.”

Chuckling, he loops his arm through mine. “I love how you care about their feelings. Come with me.”

Glowing—on the inside—from his praise, even though that wasn’t my motivation, I let him tug me along with him to where the teens are clustered together, excitedly recounting the details of their endeavor.

One of them notices us coming and tells the rest, and then they’re turning toward us with bright smiles and expectant gazes.

Nobody is glamoured today, their heritage proudly on display.

“Well done!” Raeulfr proclaims. “That was beautiful work, all of you.”

The smiles turn to wide grins and a chorus of thank-yous.

“We’re proud to be here, Your Majesty,” one girl says—Isla, if I’m remembering right. “Will you take one of the saplings?”

That’s another tradition that thrills my green thumb.

The flowering annuals will stay where they are, a gift to the host, but the saplings and young shrubs will be taken by the guests and transplanted in their own gardens.

This ritual is from a time when the winters were particularly long and hard and summers not that warm.

The elves in the affected region came together on the solstice to boost the growth of their faltering crops in the hopes of getting a decent harvest. Later, when the climate stabilized, they decided they were unwilling to give up something that had brought them so much joy, and switched from crops to trees and the like—a gift of thanks to nature for allowing them those bountiful harvests when they were so needed.

They grow the trees to a point where they’re strong enough to survive through winter, but still young enough to be transplanted with ease.

Even now, people with shovels, plastic pots, and hessian bags are digging up the new saplings.

“We will,” Raeulfr assures her. “I’ve already promised Jared.”

The teens turn their attention to me, and one asks, “What did you think of the ritual, Consort Jared?”

I’m still surprised every time someone calls me that, but I no longer show it.

Progress. The official title for Raeulfr’s partner took some getting used to, though.

“It was wonderful,” I answer honestly. “I’m in awe of you all.

Raeulfr is going to show me how it’s done so I can look after my garden better, and I only hope I manage half as well as you did. ”

They fall over themselves telling me that I’ll be fine, pleased by my words and eager to reassure me. It’s sweet, and I’m not the only one who thinks so. There’s a group of parents hovering nearby looking proud as punch and smiling indulgently.

We chat with the teens for a few minutes more before Raeulfr excuses us and draws me toward a cluster of people I recognize. Nearly all of them work at the DEA.

“How are you enjoying the day?” Ari asks me. He’s one of my favorite members of Raeulfr’s security team.

“Loving it. I’ve never been to a solstice celebration that began so early, but I can see why you do. This is incredible.”

“We’ll light the bonfires soon,” Dáithí says.

He’s standing beside Eoin, and they came together, but like always, there’s a tiny bit of distance between them—the emotional kind.

I know why, but despite all my hints, neither of them seems willing to take a risk in closing it.

“The littlest ones will go inside for a slumber party, and the rest of us will keep going until sunrise.”

That part of a solstice party is more familiar to me. Not all witches stay up the whole night—a small observance is really all that’s needed, if they’re so inclined—but usually when a bunch of us gather for a midsummer celebration, we bridge the sun’s energy from dusk to dawn.

Across the circle, Cecy extends her arms and leans toward me.

“Jawed!” she demands, and Caolan, the elf holding her, chuckles and moves forward to hand her over.

Cecylia took a liking to me the first time I met her, when I spent half an hour playing hide-and-seek with her, and I can’t say I’m mad about it.

Though I got the shock of my life that day when I was holding her and she shifted into a tiny dragon.

Once she’s perched securely on my hip, she points to the flower tucked behind her ear and says, “Pwetty.” It’s more a demand than observation.

“It’s a beautiful flower,” I agree solemnly. “Almost as beautiful as you.” That gets me a big grin and a wet kiss on the cheek, before her attention is caught by a group of kids running past.

“Down!” She squirms until I obey, then runs off after the kids. I take a step to follow, but Caolan catches my arm.

“She’s fine,” he assures me, nodding toward the dragon supervising the kids, who waves back.

“The parents of the littlest ones set up rotating shifts to watch them today. In any case, Steffen’s got so many cameras around the grounds that it wouldn’t take long to track down anyone who wandered off, and the whole place is warded against anyone with ill intent.

This is the safest place in the world for them to run around and test boundaries. ”

“That must be paradise for them,” I muse. A lot of little kids are risk takers anyway, not having learned to be afraid, but most of them don’t have dozens of acres of woods and gardens to run wild in… or rudimentary magic, or wings.

“It really is,” Caolan confirms. “For their parents, too.”

Shit . That was so insensitive of me, when not that long ago these people were living inside a forcefield and expecting to die. I’m grateful the rest of the group has moved on with the conversation and didn’t hear my faux pas. “I’m so sorry, I?—”

He waves off the apology. “I knew what you meant. It’s a miracle for us all to be able to watch them be so free and fearless.” He drags his gaze away from them and smiles at me. “I’m glad we’re getting the chance to talk. Alistair said you turned down his invitation to join the brohood.”

I glance over my shoulder, in case Alistair’s behind me.

He’s here somewhere—he has enough friends among the dragons and elves that he’s always on the guest list. “I’m still trying to find my feet with everything,” I explain.

“I’m grateful for the friendship, but I’m not sure I have the bandwidth right now to be a full-fledged bro.

” Not to mention, I’m not sure it would set the best example for the consort to get involved in some of the things I’ve heard they’ve done in the past. It was tempting, though. They’re all a lot of fun.

Caolan nods understandingly. “I get it. Brohood is a big commitment. The invitation stands if you change your mind, but that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

It’s not? Then why did he bring it up? “Oh?”

He gestures behind me, toward Raeulfr. “You and the king are solid, right?”

Like always, I have to hide my amusement at hearing modern slang come from a man who looks like he could have stepped off the set of Aliens: Lord of the Rings , which, if anyone ever made it, would be an epic movie that I’d watch the heck out of.

“We’re solid,” I confirm. “I know it’s only been a few months and that we had a rough start, but you don’t need to worry about?—”

He shakes his head, silvery blond hair sliding over his shoulders. “I’m not worried. I’m just… trying to decide if I should tell you something.”

Pushing aside my instinctive fear reaction, I study his face. It’s serious, but not in a bad way. Not like he has bad news; more like he knows something that’s important. “Would it make me happy or sad?”

“Not sad,” he says immediately. “I think it would make you happy, but I really don’t know you that well yet.”

A heavy, familiar arm comes around my waist, and I lean back into Raeulfr as he asks, “What would make Jared happy?”

“We’re not sure if it would,” I caution him. “Caolan’s trying to decide if he should tell me.”

“How intriguing. What—” His body freezes, going solid against me, and I straighten and turn to look at him. He’s staring at Caolan.

I look at Caolan too.

“Your Majesty, if you ever wanted to ask me something, I would answer,” he says.

The penny drops. Since that first time Raeulfr and I talked about the elves’ version of soulmates—paired souls—it’s come up another time.

Two of his people came to him to ask if he could see whether they were paired.

That blew me away. I’d thought it was just a “feelings” thing, but apparently, there are elves who can actually see when others have compatible souls.

Raeulfr is one, and he mentioned a few others who could also.

Including Caolan.

“It wouldn’t make me sad?” I demand, and the tall elf shakes his head again. “I’m asking, then. Are Raeulfr and I paired souls?”

I swear Raeulfr is holding his breath.

Caolan smiles. “Yes.”

The King of the Elves buries his face against the side of my neck, and I wrap my arms around him, mouthing “Thank you” to Caolan as he winks and slips away.

“It wouldn’t matter,” Raeulfr mutters, his voice muffled against my skin. “Even if we weren’t, it wouldn’t matter to me.”

I kiss his hair. “I know. Nor me. But now we know our souls are on the same growth path. That’s free will and fate, both giving us eternity together.”

He lifts his head, and his eyes are wet. “Free will and fate.” And he kisses me under the solstice sun.

Thanks for reading Wooing the Wiccan ! Raeulfr’s story has been a long time coming, and he’s earned his happily ever after. Next up is Eoin and Dáithí’s story, Enticing the Elf .