Page 66 of Waltzing With Witches

“I met Arkan this morning at the coffee shop,” Wren says, “and it surprised me that he introduced himself with his name instead of his title. I thought all Keepers were called Keeper.”

“Typically, they are,” the centaur says, clasping her hands at her waist. “But Arkan refused to do so. And being a Keeper is such a critical role, Evenia did not fight him on it.”

“Must be nice,” I mutter. “She fights our Keeper on everything.”

Hana purses her lips. “She’s a real bitch.”

“Oh, I like you,” Thea says with a smile. “I like you a lot. You get it.”

“Indeed.” Hana laughs, the tinkling sound filling the auditorium. She glances around. “This place is so lovely. I can’t believe you don’t use it, although it seems you plan to change that, Morgan?”

I toss my cleaning rag over my shoulder. “Absolutely. Town Hall and Ben, err, the Keeper’s castle, could use a little TLC.”

Thea bumps my hip. “The castle’s name is Ben? The fuck, Mor! I need these details!”

“Well,” Hana says, gesturing at my rag. “If you’ve got any more of those, I would love to help. I can sense the building’s pleasure that you’re here spending time within her walls.”

A moment of jealousy spears through me. I don’t want another Keeper’s wife taking over my Town Hall. But then I remember that she’s here to help. If I were in her shoes, I’d do the same thing she’s doing.

I jerk my head toward a bucket up at the front. “Rags are there.”

Hana presses two fingers to her forehead and draws them down her face and chest, fans her arm straight out in front, then in an arc toward her side. “That means ‘thank you’ in my culture.” Her voice is deeply comforting, and I can’t help but grin.

Wren lifts a palm, and Hana slaps it. “That’s pretty much the same for us,” she says with a laugh.

Hana clops down the aisle toward the front, grabbing a rag. Planting both hands on her hips, she grins at us. “I don’t know if the Keeper mentioned it, but I’m also a black witch. I’d love to speak with you about your magic. I initially trained at the Hearth to become an instructor, so I’m versed in all four types of magic, although I don’t teach these days.”

“Ah, the life of a politician’s wife, eh?” Wren says with a knowing look.

Hana chuckles. “Something like that.”

For the next hour, we dust and mop the auditorium. Hana tells us about how she met Arkan when they got snowed in together while hiking. It sounds like a romance novel the way she saved him from a snowdrift, and then he wooed her over the course of the storm. They’ve been inseparable ever since.

He sounds cool, and even though I haven’t met him yet, I like him already.

The four of us pepper her with questions about her last haven. She gets misty-eyed talking about leaving it, but it’s obvious from the way she talks about Ever that she’s thrilled to be here, despite the circumstances.

We clean for another hour after that, joking, laughing, and it’s the closest to pure happiness I’ve felt since my parents died. Thea, Wren, and Lou are lighthearted. Hana, as it turns out, is fucking hilarious. And she has a story for every possible situation. We’re in stitches for most of the morning.

Eventually, Lou and Wren leave to meet Ohken and work on a new batch of mead. Shepherd calls Thea about patrolling the town’s wards. Only Hana and I remain in Town Hall.

She dusts the auditorium’s door frame. “Morgan, would you like to talk about anything now that it’s just you and me?”

“Gods, yes!” I practically shout. “It sounds like you didn’t really have to woo Arkan, but how the hell do other Keepers’ mates do it? Mine is…”

She cuts me a knowing look. “Off-putting? Horribly literal? Holds you at arm’s length while he plays the martyr?” She throws her hand dramatically over her eyes, faux fainting into the wall.

When I growl, she chuckles and tosses her dirty rag back in the bucket. “That’s always been the way of things. Most of my friends who are mated to Keepers know you really have to break past that barrier they put up. They’re so hardwired to think about themselves last.” Her smile goes devious and broad. “But once you break through, they’ll love you so damn hard. They take a little convincing, which sort of feels like you’re setting feminism back a few decades.”

“Right?” I huff and throw my rag in the bucket with hers. “I don’t want to chase a man, and my Keeper was rude as hell to me for a whole month. He’s done his damnedest to drive me away. Joke’s on him, though,” I say with a laugh. “The Annabelle kicked me out, and he had to take me in. Now he’s toast. We’re going on a date later.”

Hana chuckles. “He had to take you in, did he?” She winks at me. “Seems to me like some part of him knew he was done for.”

“I hope so.” My train of thought turns serious, remembering how he’s fucking sick, and nothing I can do will change that. I want to tell Hana, to ask her opinion about it. And Abe said I could do what I wanted with that information. But it feels too soon to share a secret that big. Because, if I tell her, she’ll tell Arkan, and I don’t know anything about him.

“Morgan,” her soft tone breaks through my runaway train of thoughts. “I know there’s more going on with your Keeper than you’re letting on. I can see it in the way your expression has changed.”

I let out a grunt of confirmation.

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