Page 97 of The Witch and His Crow

‘There is something I want to show you.’

My heels hit the floor with a thump as heavy disappoint weighed down on me. ‘What?’

‘The clue for the next trial,’ Arwyn added, reminding me of something I’d not thought about in days. ‘Clearly Romy doesn’t want to be found. And we should respect it. But the clue is important to prepare for whatever Hekate throws at us next.’

‘Yes,’ I said quickly, ‘of course we should do that.’

Why didn’t I sound so convinced?

‘Come on then,’ Arwyn said, gesturing to the door. ‘We should go whilst it’s dark.’

‘Couldn’t you’ve just found the clue whilst you were out?’ I asked as Arwyn reached the door.

He stopped, hand grasping the handle, turning his face until I caught the perfect view of his profile. His smirk warmed mefrom the inside out. ‘I wouldn’t have found it earlier, even if I wanted to.’

‘Why?’

‘You’ll see.’

Glad that we were talking, I quickly turned to put Eleanor’s grimoire back in its new hiding place. Before I slipped it into the bookshelf, concealed amongst an array of mundane books and stories, intuition rose its ugly head.

Wind screamed in through the small hole my water bullet had created in the window, reminding of me something Arwyn had distracted me from.

Scrying. Old magic. Although he didn’t believe, I did.

‘Give me a minute,’ I called as I quickly flipped through the book. I knew I’d seen a page on scrying before, and the use of water. It had mentioned moonlight, which was perfect for tonight because the sky was clear and the silver moon on full display. I’d show Arwyn it would work, perhaps teach him what Eleanor had showed me. But as I got to the end of the book, the page wasn’t inside. I looked again, finding the issue on the second search. Beside the hand-written page about the salve used to heal Arwyn was a missing page. I ran my finger down the tear of paper, the rough edges as if it had been quickly snatched out.

‘Arwyn,’ I exhaled, my intuition screaming.

He was behind me in seconds. ‘What’s wrong?’

I let him look down at the grimoire, to the obviously missing page. Except it wasn’t lost, because it had been ripped out. ‘Look.’

A wrinkle formed between Arwyn’s brows. He worked out the same thing as I did. Someone had taken the page on scrying. ‘I told you Romy doesn’t want to be found.’

‘She didn’t take it…’ I began, although the last time I’d seen her was with the grimoire.

‘Maybe not,’ Arwyn said, planting a kiss to my cheek. It was so sudden, all thoughts of torn pages and Romy faded. ‘But we can worry about it later.’

A horrible sinking feeling took up the majority of my chest. Numb to everything but the ripped page, I popped the grimoire into the inner pocket of my jacket. If Arwyn noticed or not, he didn’t make a mention.

I was simply a passenger, watching as Arwyn took my hand. ‘It’s going to be ok.’ He said, convincing me or himself, I wasn’t sure. ‘All of this is going to work out.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

‘You’re shaking,’ Arwyn announced as we left the confines of the castle’s warmth. The cool night breeze wrapped around me, sending a violent shiver across my skin. Arwyn noticed. Of course he did. Romy was right all those days ago—if I wasn’t looking at him, Arwyn was certainly studying me.

‘Nothing gets past you, does it?’ I asked, teeth chattering alongside my sarcasm.

‘Not when it comes to you,’ Arwyn said, pausing for a moment so he could take his jacket off.

He offered his jacket to me, holding it up for me to thread my arms into it. I was made to turn my back to him, which only encouraged more gooseflesh to prickle. I could hear his steady breathing, smell his tantalising scent caught on the wind.

‘What about you?’ I asked as we got back into step with one another. ‘Aren’t you going to be cold?’

Arwyn shrugged, wrapped his arm around me and pulled me in tight. ‘Such a considerate little kitty. Youdoworry about me.’

‘Oh shut up, Arwyn. Any more of that behaviour and your head will be too big to get back inside.’

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