Page 32 of Their Witch Bride

I mean, it’s not like any of this was my idea, so why’s his anger focused at me? Witches and shifters hate each other, I get it, but they agreed to this deal too. They don’t get to sit around giving me dirty looks.

With all my stuff put away, I close my bag and rise to my feet. My gaze skims over the shifters busy setting up camp, and the ones that are sitting around the fire with Drogo. Neither are the company I want to keep, so I bite my lip and think about where to go. When I hear the sound of running water, I release a slow breath. Perfect.

I scurry out of camp and come to the river. I set my bag down, then walk to one of the trees to handle my personal business. When I'm finished, I wash my hands in the river, then decide I need to clean up a little bit because we've been on the road for a few days, and I feel gross.

Most witches can get water to wash over them just right. To cleanse their skin without soaking their clothes. Which I should be able to do, right? Yeah, it’s an easy enough spell. I’ve managed it a few times. It’s not like calling to the lake and getting it to respond. It’s a smaller ask. Just a little bit of water.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Water,” I whisper, and wait.

Nothing happens, but I didn’t really expect it to the first time. I just have to focus. I’m only asking for a misting of water. A small amount. Even I can do this. I command the water again, but it doesn’t respond. Frustration builds up inside of me, and I take another deep breath and blow it out slowly.

“Water.”

Nothing.

I huff and fling my arms up in frustration. The sound of water hitting the ground all around me reaches my ears, and my eyes fly open. Did I do it? I don’t feel any water. I grin and stand, whirling around to see what happened.

My grin falls away. Prince Arlys is standing behind me. He’s soaking wet, with water dripping from his long, black hair, and more water running off his arms and clothes. And he looks pissed.

Fuck.

“I'm so sorry!”

He’s going to think I did this on purpose. He’s not going to believe a witch is so bad with her magic that this could be an accident, and I can’t let him know how useless I really am.

I need to fix this. “Let me help!”

I’m not going to try my magic, and then set him on fire. Nope, I’ll have to do this the traditional way. First, I ring out his sleeves, then go for his shirt, pulling it out of his pants and ringing that out too. Then I grab the sleeve of my dress and start patting him down, starting at his chest and moving downward.

“Man, this is a lot of water,” I mutter as I reach his pants, and pat off the front of him.

Prince Arlys leaps back like my touch is fire and looks at me wildly, his hands covering his crotch. For such a big man, he moves pretty damn fast. Why though? Those wide green eyes of his just look shocked, which isn’t exactly helpful.

“What?” I ask, confused.

“Wh–hat are you doing?” he asks, his voice deep and pleasant, even now.

“Drying you off,” I tell him, planting my hands on my hips. “You’re soaking wet, and it was kind of my fault.”

He stares at me for a long minute before he shakes his head.

I sigh. I know that look. As usual, I've done something wrong. And as usual, I don’t know what it was. I mean, technically, I know I soaked him in the first place, but that doesn’t seem to be what he’s upset about now.

“I'm sorry,” I say. “For the water and whatever else I did to upset you.”

“You…” he begins, gesturing widely.

“Me…” I say, trying to follow him.

“You…” He motions to his pants.

“Wet your pants,” I say, then wince, realizing what I’d said.

He stares at me like I’m a creature he’s never seen before.

“I got you wet instead of getting myself wet.” Like I was supposed to.

His jaw drops.

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