Page 37 of The Witch's Rite
“All right, well... you know that cranberry crumble she makes?”
Aurora nods.
“It’s about the only thing she can bake that tastes halfway decent, but I’m actually allergic to cranberries. Make my tongue swell up every time I eat them. But I don’t have the heart to tell her I can’t eat it anymore—she’s always so proud when she brings me a batch.”
Aurora lets out a tiny gasp. “Alden!”
“What?” He laughs again, rocking back and looking up toward the sky so the moonlight cuts across his bearded face. “It’d break her heart if I told her the truth. And then she’d probably try to bake something else, and that wouldn’t be good for anyone.”
The three of us share a laugh as the evening insects chirp in the trees up on Heritage Hill.
“Okay, Aurora.” I tip my head at her and give her a smile. “Your turn.”
Her giggle fades, and her pink lips pull down in the corners. “Well... my secret is that I know I’ve never been my mother’s favorite, and I know she’s disappointed in me.”
That takes the air right out of my lungs. How anyone could ever be disappointed in Aurora, I have no idea. She’s kind and soft and funny, gives freely and with open arms, and makes the best food I’ve ever tasted. There’s not a single thing I’d wish to change about her.
“Selene has always been the perfect daughter, the perfect witch.” Aurora pushes her hair back over her shoulder with a sigh. “She’s extremely proficient in the craft, much more so than I am. With her talent, she could’ve joined the Shadowfall Court.”
The mention of King Jorvick’s coven has me recalling the colorful-haired women who reside in his castle, moving about the torchlit halls with swishing skirts and crystals tied about their waists. I know little about them but for the fact they are one of the most powerful assets he has. I stood watch outside his study on multiple occasions, listening to the mumbled words through the door as he sought their counsel—and he seeks counsel from very few.
Aurora’s voice calls me back to the present.
“My mother pushed me to do more, tobemore, but... I am who I am. And I like being this way, even if it’s not what she wanted from her daughter.”
A moment of silence passes. I meet Aurora’s eyes.
“The only person you ever have to please in your life,” I say softly, “is yourself. Do that, and everything else will fall into place.”
“You seem so sure of that,” she says, tipping her head and holding my stare.
I shrug. “It’s what I had to do.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a good secret too,” Alden says.
And again, my stomach tightens up. I could come up with a silly secret, something lighthearted and jovial. But somehow, that doesn’t feel right to me. If ever there was a moment to tell them what it is I carry around in my heart, this is it.
I open my mouth, but Aurora cuts me off with a gasp.
“Look!”
She points, and Alden and I both turn to see what she’s spotted.
Little iridescent bugs are drifting through the summer air, and as we watch, they descend upon the pumpkin patch in a shimmering swarm. A few land near to us, and I get my first good look at them.
They’re similar to ladybugs, but with spots of gold and purple and turquoise on black bodies. They gleam in the moonlight as they move, sparkling like little jewels.
“What are they?” Alden asks.
“Gilded thornbugs,” Aurora responds right away. “But... they’re not native to this area. I’ve never seen them here before.”
I recall the merchants in town during and after the Beltane festival, with their carts piled high with products and goods from distant towns.
“Could they have hitched a ride with one of the traveling merchants?” I ask.
Aurora nibbles on her lip in thought, then gives a single nod. “That would make sense. Oh, Alden, don’t!”
But it’s too late. Alden is reaching for one of the thornbugs, holding his finger toward it, and in the blink of an eye, it lashes out with thin thorny vines. The thorns cut Alden’s finger, and he yanks his hand back with a hiss of surprise.
