Page 31 of The Witch's Rite
The fire kept me company last night, burning low in the hearth, but I can tell from the coolness in the air that it has since burned out. I’ve got one of Aurora’s hand-knit blankets draped over me, and I pull it up to my chin, still not opening my eyes. I know I’ve got to get up soon and make the walk back into Faunwood to start my patrol, but it’s so warm and comfortable here, I want just a few minutes more.
As I shift a bit on the couch, I feel something soft pressing against my stomach. Cracking one eye open, I lift the blanket and look under it.
And I find Lucy cuddled up against me, looking happy as a clam, her eyes closed as she sleeps peacefully. I’ve no idea whenshe hopped up onto the couch or how she got under the blanket, but seeing her there makes me smile, and I slowly lower the blanket back down.
I’m just about to close my eyes and catch a few more minutes of sleep when I hear a floorboard creak and a rustle of something in the kitchen. That must be what woke me up. Maybe Aurora is awake and making tea. I could sure go for some more of that bread from last night too; I’ve never tasted sourdough anywherenearas delicious as what Aurora makes.
Sitting up, I’m careful not to jostle Lucy too much, but she opens her eyes and clucks softly at me.
“Sorry,” I mutter, easing myself around her. She doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to get up, so I settle the blanket back over her before standing and stretching my arms overhead. My tunic is draped across the back of the couch, and I grab it and slip it over my head before tying my hair back in a messy knot and heading into the kitchen. Hopefully Aurora is feeling better this morning.
But Aurora isn’t the one in the kitchen.
Alden is working on starting a fire when I step into the doorway, and he looks up at me with an unreadable expression. Based on the conversation I had with him all those days ago, he’s okay with me being around Aurora, beingwithher, but there’s still a tightening of my chest when I’m alone with him, a discomfort I haven’t quite been able to shake.
“Morning,” I say in way of breaking the silence.
“Morning.” Alden looks away from me and strikes the flint he’s holding, sending sparks into the hearth. They catch on the fresh wood he has stacked there, and after a bit of coaxing from Alden, the flames dance to life. He steps away, and I lean against the doorframe with a yawn.
“How’s she doing?” I ask.
Alden is at the counter, cutting the scant remains of the bread into a few thin slices. Once he finishes, he turns to put the kettleon the fire. Then he looks at me. “Seems fine, normal. But you know how she is.”
“Eternal optimist?” I say.
This gets him to crack a thin smile, but it vanishes quickly. “Exactly.” He averts his eyes, and I can see the muscles in his jaw tensing. “I’m worried about her.”
That makes two of us.
“We’ll keep an eye on her,” I say, and without looking at me, Alden nods.
As if summoned by her name, Aurora descends the stairs, and I turn to look over my shoulder just as she steps into the foyer. Her long green hair is woven back into two braids, and her cheeks are vibrant and flushed with pink. She’s wearing a light blue cotton dress, the skirt hanging to just above her thin ankles.
“Well, good morning,” she says, her voice cheerful and light. “Didn’t realize I’d slept in.”
“You didn’t,” Alden says, voice a bit gruff. “You need your rest.”
Aurora’s lips curl into a knowing smile. She pauses in the doorway to rise onto her toes and press a kiss to my cheek, then sweeps into the kitchen and does the same to Alden.
“You hungry?” he asks.
“Starving.” She settles into a chair at the kitchen table and pulls her legs up beneath her.
Alden smears a slice of sourdough with butter, then sets the plate on the table in front of Aurora. She takes a big bite before letting out a delighted sigh.
“Want some?” Alden asks, and I nod. He sets another plate on the table, and I suppose that’s him inviting me to take a seat.
While I slip into a chair and start in on my bread, Alden pours us each a cup of tea. The fire chases the little bit of chill from the kitchen, and we all eat and drink in relative silence.
Until Lucy wakes up.
Her clawed feet click across the floorboards, and as soon as she appears in the doorway and sees us all, she lets out a big squawk. Aurora laughs, using a hand to cover her lips.
“Good morning, Lucy. Did you sleep well?” She leans over to pick the hen up, and Lucy seems content to settle into her lap.
“I’d think so. Woke up with her cuddled against me,” I say.
This makes Aurora laugh again. Her eyes crinkle in the corners, and the sound is so beautiful, I want to hear it again and again.
