Page 47 of Beyond the Cottage

“Very amusing.”

“It really is, especially the bit about the fox hunter and his riding crop. But Ansel, I’m confused…why are the pages stuck together?” They weren’t, but she made a show of flipping through them, grinning.

He plucked the book from her hands. She grabbed for it, but he held it behind his back. Each time she reached around him, he twisted, finally holding it over his head. Tugging on his bicep, she instinctively tried to fly to his raised hand, but her feet remained on the floor.

Gretta’s amusement promptly soured. “Keep it. I was working up toThe Lascivious Lusts of Lady Lovecock, anyway.” She sat and pulled another novel off the stack.

Sighing, Ansel tossed the book on the rug. “I need to talk to you.”

“No, thanks.”

“It’s important. And it’s not sentimental in nature.”

Gretta turned a page and raised her brow at a highly explicit illustration, dog-earing it.

Ansel sat in the chair across from her. “The storm’s almost over. I expect it will be gone when we wake tomorrow.”

She eyed the window. Rain pelted it, and the wind howled loud as ever.

“Okay…” she said. “When will you take me to Antrelle?”

“The thing is—”

“There is no thing. When?”

He moved to the edge of his chair. “I’m going to take you, but I have a pressing errand to run first.”

Of course he did.

“Goddamn unbelievable.” Gretta slammed the book down. “I don’t even know why I’m surprised. But don’t put yourself out on my account, I guess. I have my vial of dust, I’ll find my own way back.”

Except, she needed him to come with her, all the way to the capital. Nothing was more important than fighting witches.

Fuck.

“I’ll still bring you to the city,” he said. “This errand will only take a few hours. You can come with me, and we’ll leave for Antrelle immediately after.”

“Uh-huh. I knew your promises weren’t worth shit.”

“This errand will interest you. I’ll take you to the—”

“I don’t want to hear any more of your bullshit, Lab Coat.”

“It’s not—”

“I don’t think you had any intention of bringing me back.”

“Gretta!Listen.” When she glared, he leaned in. “I know the witch you’re looking for. If you’re willing to delay your departure by a few hours, I’ll introduce you to her.”

Gretta’s eyes flared, and she finally stopped interrupting him. Ansel sank into his chair, unsure if he was relieved or unnerved by her obvious interest.

Was he a fool to even consider this? The gentle girl he’d known had developed an unpredictable violent streak, to say nothing of her hatred for witches.

The problem was, he needed to see Isobel as soon as possible. Besides letting her know their business was over and making sure she was safe after the storm, he had to warn her about the wealthy politician on her trail. The best thing all around was if Gretta learned for herself thatthiswitch wouldn’t harm anyone and that she wouldn’t be useful to a senator.

Ansel had a way to curb Gretta’s bloodthirsty impulses. He already dreaded bringing it up.

“You know the swamp witch?” she asked, eyes bright.

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