Page 46 of The Witch's Rite
I know that was supposed to make me feel better, but when she said it, something turned in my gut.
Will I be a good father? I’ve already lost one person I loved just as much as life itself, and that wasmyfault. A knot starts to form in my stomach. What if I can’t protect this little one growing inside her? What if I make another mistake and—
“Rowan?” Aurora says. “Are you all right?”
I quickly glance up at her, banishing my dark thoughts. “Fine. Just thinking.”
My smile seems to appease her, and she continues her work on the elixir.
Once she’s finished, she adds a vial of clear liquid—morning dewdrops, I think she said—and begins stirring everything together. She then fetches the jar of clover honey from the shelf and spoons a bit into the mixture.
“What’s that for?” I ask. Lucy wakes and starts wriggling around in my lap, so I bend and place her on the floor. I’ve not told Aurora this, but I’m not looking forward to Lucy sleeping in her new coop. I’ve come to quite enjoy her company at night, even if she does take up more space on the couch than any hen has a right to.
She ruffles her feathers and heads into the foyer, and I go to stand behind Aurora, placing my hands on the counter on either side of her. My chin rests upon her shoulder, and she giggles.
“The thornbugs will be drawn to the sweetness, and the glimmer from the dewdrops will help lead them away from the pumpkin patch.”
“And the lavender?” I reach out and pick a tiny purple flower up from the counter.
“To calm them. Change is always difficult, no matter who you are.”
She’s worried about upsetting the bugs who’re eating the pumpkin patch? The realization makes me chuckle, and I nuzzle my face into the side of her neck.
What a wonderful mother she’ll be.
The floor creaks behind us, and when I turn, I find Alden standing in the doorway, his shoulders nearly taking up the whole frame. Lucy is tucked into the crook of his arm, her brown eyes blinking.
He clears his throat. “I suppose I’ll show her the coop.”
Lucy looks up at him, then back at me.
“I’ll join you.” I push away from the counter, and Alden grunts as he moves to the kitchen door. Before following him out, I catch a look from Aurora, something like nervousness flashing in her eyes.
But I told her in the bath that everything would be fine, and I meant it. Alden and I will work this out; weallwill.
The evening sky is painted in bright swatches of tangerine and coral, with softer shades of purple and pink at the edges of the clouds. A few glowbugs drift lazily through the shadows clustered beneath the trees, sparkling like stars against a cloudless sky.
Alden walks ahead of me, Lucy still held in his arm. We’ve not yet put up the fence around the coop, but the structure is complete, and I see Alden even put up a wooden plaque etched with Lucy’s name.
Seeing it, my heart swells.
And perhaps for the first time, I look at him and don’t see competition. He cares for Aurora just as much as I do, and I’d be foolish not to see the value in that. I want Aurora blanketed in as much love as possible, wrapped in warm arms even if I’m not the one here to hold her. And I trust Alden. He’s a good man.
There are two doors built into the henhouse: one just big enough for Lucy to pass through, and one human-size door, though Alden still has to hunch a bit to get through, as do I. It’ll be the perfect height for Aurora—maybe that was his intention all along.
Once we’re both inside, I close the door behind me, and Alden sets Lucy down to explore her new home. She clucks as she struts about, then goes to the water dish and takes a drink. I’ll pick up some straw from the farmer tomorrow so she’ll have soft bedding to lie down upon. For now, though, she seems perfectly content as she flutters up onto her roost and settles in for the night.
“Looks happy enough,” Alden says, hands on his hips and gaze cast down. He’s not yet looked me in the eye—not since we both learned the news.
“Alden,” I say.
Tension swells between us, thick as muggy summer air after a rainstorm.
Alden takes a breath, then finally meets my gaze. “Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
His eyes narrow a bit. “For what?”
