Page 39 of The Witch and The Blood Oath

I waited for her to scold me for flirting, considering she ended our non-relationship, but she said nothing. Under the moonlight, her cheeks flushed. A tightness in my chest eased. It was foolish. Freya’s feelings changed nothing in our situation. She couldn’t be with an out-of-control he-witch.

Regardless, it felt good to make her blush.

It felt good to be the two of us again.

We reached the pond and hesitated at its sandy, rocky shores. Bugs hummed, but the water was still as glass. The scent of fish soured the air. Arion hissed at it and rubbed against Freya’s legs.

“Does it seem,” I asked, “too normal?”

Freya nodded. “I sense no magic except for ours and the trolls’. I wonder what exactly is down here that they need so desperately.”

“They kept saying embers,” I said, “but I don’t see how we’re going to find any of those underwater. I don’t really see how we’re going to findanything.”

Though it was clean as far as ponds went, the water was still a murky, greenish blue color.

“Cowboy.” Freya grinned. “When are you going to stop overusing that question? The answer is almost always ‘with magic’.”

I sighed. “Of course. What’s your grand plan, witch?”

“I’ll summon a pocket of air,” Freya explained matter-of-factly, “and we’ll explore the pond that way.”

I ran my hand down my tired face.

“Think of it like a submarine,” she urged. “Except, instead of steel, it’s composed of air magic. It’ll be fine.”

“I guess the water’s not that deep anyway,” I said and sighed. “It’s not like I have a better plan.”

“Excellent,” Freya said. She bent down and scratched Arion behind his ears. “Stay here and keep watch, friend.”

Arion hissed again. He was never happy to be apart from her.

“I’ll be okay,” Freya promised her familiar. “If we don’t emerge within ten minutes, get the others.”

She faced me. “Take my hand.”

I resisted the urge to make a joke about mixed signals and did as she asked. My fingers closed around her much smaller ones like a glove.

“Wait,” she said and sighed. She reached on her toes, grabbed my hat, and set it on the shore. “The air will protect us, but in case we need to swim, we can’t have you losing your only accessory.”

“Thanks, sw-witch,” I mumbled. Freya pretended not to hear my almost-endearment.

Freya muttered a spell under her breath, and magic hummed in the air. Now, I recognized it as distinctly Freya’s. It was potent, but not as heavy and cloying as the High Witch’s. No, Freya’s magic was like a hymn. It made my own magic tingle under my skin in response.

Freya tugged on my hand and led us into the water—well, sort of—wind enveloped us and kept the murky liquid from touching us. I took a step deeper into the water, but my foot was swept out from under me by Freya’s wind. As I fell backward, Freya caught my fall with magic and righted me. My face burned.

Freya did all the heavy lifting, but I couldn’t even walk.

“Relax,” she said. “Remember what happened in the forest? You let instinct take over, and your magic guided your steps. Let go, and it’ll help you keep your balance.”

“That was easy,” I argued. “I already had a pretty good grasp on walking through the forest. I’ve never walked onair.”

Freya glowered and crossed her arms. “Don’t be scared, cowboy.Let go.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the truth was that I was terrified of my own magic, and we both knew it.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I said quietly.

Her face softened. “You won’t.”

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