Page 58 of Elora and the Crow

“One more day,” she said.

His nose wrinkled, and she had to smother her grin. Jonah’s mild obsession with being clean - both in human and crow form - weirdly amused her.

“You look like you feel better,” he said.

“I do. I slept well this afternoon, and I needed it. I hope you don’t mind that I crawled into bed with you again. I was tired, and your room is the only one with the fire protection spell.”

“I don’t mind,” he said before smoothing back her hair.

They stared at each other for a few seconds before Elora said, “Will you tell me what happened with your brother and the fae?”

His face paled, and he rubbed his jaw again but nodded. “Yes.”

* * *

“So,you’re one hundred percent confident that your brother is under the fae’s influence and isn’t actually in love?” Elora bit into an apple slice.

About five minutes into Jonah’s story, her stomach had growled loudly. He had stopped and insisted she eat before he would continue. She’d gone to the kitchen, sliced up some fruit and grabbed some granola and yogurt for them both, bringing it back to Jonah’s bedroom.

“Yes,” Jonah said.

She studied him silently, and he said, “Ninety-three percent.”

“What if he is in love with her?” Elora asked. “Then what?”

“Once he finds out what her kind did to me, he won’t stay with her,” Jonah said.

“He might,” Elora said. “Love is powerful, and it sounds like he’s angry and resentful toward you.” She paused. “Sorry, that was rude of me to say.”

He shook his head. “No, I love how honest and blunt you are, little witch. And you’re right. He is angry with me.”

He stared at his plate of grapes, poking at the purple fruit. “But we’re still brothers, and when he’s away from their influence, he’ll remember that I love him, and we’ll work it out.”

“Do you think the blow to your head is why you couldn’t shift?” she asked.

Panic flickered across his face before he smoothed it away. “Maybe.”

“Have you tried shifting since you’ve been home?”

He shook his head. “No, I…no.”

“You should try,” she said gently. “What’s your easiest transformation?”

“Rat,” he said.

“Okay, try to shift into a rat,” she said.

He hesitated, and she took his plate and hers and set them on the nightstand. “It’s better to know, Jonah.”

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. After only a few seconds, that panic returned to his face, and she immediately took his hand.

His eyes popped open as his grip tightened on hers. “I can’t do it.”

“Okay, well, you’re not completely healed, so maybe -”

“It isn’t that,” he said. “In the past, I’ve shapeshifted when I was nearly dead. I don’t know why I can’t shift now.”

She squeezed his hand. “I think it might be PTSD.”

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