Page 12 of The Witch is Back

“Talk to me?”

“Yeah. I—Look, Emma.” He grabbed for her hands and she had an impression of heat and strength before she pulled them free. “I’m sorry, I wanted to speak to you but Dad...well, he’s Dad.”

Alistair was accepting a champagne glass from a server and encouraging everyone else to do the same. “It’s time to celebrate the moment we’ve awaited,” he said with a booming laugh, as filled with vitality as his wife wasn’t. He was a handsome, robust man, very similar to his son except he was built solidly like a tree trunk, and Bastian was lean. His beard was trimmed close, blond streaked with silver, which perfectly matched the hair he wore just as closely trimmed to his head. For one hundred and seventy, Alistair was looking...

Well. She sighed. Perfect.

Odd one out, raise your hand.

“Emmaline... Emma.” Drawing her attention back, Bastian stepped closer, his words tumbling over each other. “I know this isn’t an ideal way to do it, but here we are. I came back for you.”

Emma’s heart jerked like it had been hit with a lightning bolt. Next to her hand on the column, another bud exploded into a full flower.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alistair lift his glass. “Shall we toast?”

Bastian made a quick movement. “This isn’t how I pictured it...but hell.” He ran a harried hand through his hair. “Emma, I need you to marry me.”

“To the reunited happy couple!” Alistair sang out. “Bastian and Emmaline!” His words resonated round the room like an echo.

Or a wave against a cliff, over and over again, eroding it. Eroding who she was now back to meek Emmaline who would have fallen into Bastian’s arms at so little. Emmaline who was always in second place. Who he’d abandoned and left desperate for a way out.

“No!” The word blasted out of her, anger licking up her insides until she choked on the heat.

Bastian’s face twisted in shock. “Emmaline.”

“My name is Emma,” she managed, voice catching as she tried to breathe.

“Please.” Bastian grabbed for her free hand, keeping it locked in his. A passionate plea.

Every hackle rose as she went stiff. Just because he was back, he thought all it took was his dad announcing their engagement? Him spouting a few empty compliments? Did he really think she was that simple? Had he no respect for her at all?

Had he ever?

She blanched as everyone lifted their glasses to them, smiling with their lips if not with their eyes. Some would still be bitter that she, of the lower echelons, caught a Truenote. A Truenote, after all, was top tier. A Truenote could do no wrong.

“Please. I need to marry you.”

She opened her mouth, but her throat was so thick, the words wouldn’t come. Except for the one that resounded again and again and again in her head. “No.”

“Emma.” Bastian looked deep into her eyes. “If you don’t marry me, my mom will die.”

CHAPTER 4

If you don’t marry me, my mom will die.

The words didn’t make sense to her. It was as if he’d started speaking Latin, or one of the old tongues that Emma’s mother still brought up and pointed to as languages she should know “as a Bluewater.”

She waited for him to laugh. Not that it was funny, but he had to be joking. Marry him? Now. After seven years of being the frog the prince hadn’t wanted to kiss.

She stared at him, watching his eyes. They chilled her. No joy, no humor. Just one hundred percent, grade A serious Bastian. She could count on one hand the times she’d seen him with those eyes.

Had she ever seen him with those eyes?

“What?” she finally managed, since staring at him wasn’t helping.

He pinched the skin between his eyebrows as his dad continued his toast. “We can’t talk here.” He grabbed her hand and threaded his fingers through hers.

She yanked at his hold and broke free. “I’m not going anywhere until you explain.”

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