Page 32 of The Witch's Rite
I finish my cup of tea, then quickly wash my dishes in the basin and set them on the towel beside the sink to dry.
“Well, I should get going. Duty to Faunwood and all.”
Aurora looks up at me, eyes bright green in the sunlight. “I’ll go with you. I need to go to the mercantile anyway. Lydia said she’d put some of my butters on display.”
Well, that explains why an entire shelf in the kitchen has become overrun with jars of butter, from lavender to honey to garlic.
“I can take them for you,” I offer, noting the concerned look that flashes in Alden’s eyes.
“No need. The fresh air would be good for me. Just give me a moment to pack them up, and we’ll be on our way.” She stands and carries Lucy to the kitchen door. A bit of a cool breeze scented with pine flows in when she opens the door to let Lucy out. I spy Harrison already out prowling around the garden, and he perks up and trots over when Lucy starts clucking. Seems those two have developed an uncanny friendship.
Alden helps Aurora load her jars of butter into a wicker basket while I pull my boots on. She appears in the foyer, basket clutched in her hands and a smile on her lips.
“You want a shawl?” I ask. “It’s still early. You may get cold.”
She opens her mouth to respond, but Alden is already there a moment later, having retrieved her shawl from the parlor. He drapes it over her shoulders, then presses a kiss to her head.
“I’ll be here when you get back,” he says to her. Then to me, “I’ll be working on the coop today. You’re welcome to come by later and help me with it.”
“I’ll do that,” I say, stepping back to open the door.
Aurora breezes past me, smelling of lavender and honey, and I share one final look with Alden before stepping out of the cottage and closing the door behind me.
Chapter 20
Alden
AS SOON AS ROWAN CLOSES the door in the foyer, I let out a sigh and slump against the wall. I can just barely hear Aurora’s voice as she and Rowan walk away from the cottage, as cheerful and lighthearted as ever.
Those are two things I’m certainlynotfeeling.
When she stumbled yesterday, my heart felt like it seized up. I knew she seemed off, less bubbly than usual. Of course, she waved the whole thing away with a brush of her hand, saying she was just tired from the summer heat and needed to rest.
Last night, while I lay beside her in bed, I watched the moonlight play across her face as she slept. It turned her skin a shade of silver, her hair a shimmering pale hue. And as I listened to her steady breathing, I whispered into the dark, “I love you.”
She didn’t wake, didn’t so much as budge.
But Harrison heard me. He was lying right there beside her, cuddled up into the blanket, his eyes watching me steadily.
And knowing those two can communicate, I suddenly feel like I need to have a word with him—because if someone is going to tell Aurora I’ve fallen in love with her, it needs to be me.
Pushing off the wall, I head back into the kitchen and pick up my half-full teacup before pulling the door open and stepping out onto the side of the cottage. I don’t immediately see Harrison or Lucy, but as I sip my tea and scan the garden and surrounding forest, I hear a scuffle of leaves.
Sure enough, Lucy is just inside the tree line, digging through the leaves that still remain from last fall. As she scratches and pecks and scratches some more, Harrison claws the trunk of a sturdy pine tree, shredding little pieces off.
“Harrison,” I call out, and surprisingly, he flicks his ears and turns to look at me. He doesn’t come over though. Of course not. Like any self-respecting cat, he makesmewalk over tohim.
Lucy clucks when I approach, and I stoop to give her creamy brown feathers a gentle pet. She allows it, even closes her eyes for a moment. Then, once she’s had her fill, she trots back off toward the garden, probably in search of more grubs.
Harrison still sits at the base of the tree, gaze pinned on me, waiting.
“So...” I start, glancing around as if Rowan or Aurora or Lydia is going to pop out of the trees and giggle at me for trying to talk to the cat. But no one is anywhere near here—all I hear is the summer breeze whispering through the trees and the distant burble of the river, which is full now and rushing with snowmelt. Thinking of the river makes me remember the day Aurora climbed on top and rode me right there on the riverbank, and I have to quickly pull my mind away from that lest I give myself an uncomfortable tightness in my trousers.
Looking back to Harrison, I meet his intense green gaze.
“I know you heard me last night... heard what I said to Aurora.”
He just blinks.
