Page 41 of A Witch and Her Dragon
“Yes!” Lyra pumps her fist in the air, making us all roll our eyes.
The conversation drifts leisurely between classes and exams and the upcoming Samhain festival, but I’m distracted. I keep glancing at Raelan from the corner of my eye, watching him pick at his croissant. Is he thinking about his family? Wishing he could visit them?
Well . . . why couldn’t he?
I push up from the table amidst another argument between Lyra and Maeve, this one regarding the merits of cream in coffee, and feel Raelan’s gaze on me as I walk to the counter.
Layla is just finishing icing a batch of cupcakes and looks up with a smile. “Can I get you something else?” she asks.
With a lowered voice, I say, “Can I get what Raelan typically orders? For his family, I mean.” I reach into the inside pocket of the cloak I’m wearing to pull out my coin purse. I don’t carry much currency—Grandfather thinks it’s dangerous for me—but I do have some eldertokens, and it’s more than enough to purchase a few croissants.
Layla gives me a knowing smile as I covertly slide a coin across the counter. “Of course, Your Highness. I’ll have them ready in a moment.”
I give her a small smile, then return to the table.
“You order something else?” Poppy asks.
“No.” I wave a hand. “Just thanking your mother. She’s quite gifted. Maybe she should teach a baking class at the academy.”
“Ooh, I’d take that,” Lyra says. She picks up her last bite of strawberry shortcake and reaches into the top of her tunic, where Juniper’s head suddenly appears. She nibbles the shortcake, then licks Lyra’s fingers clean.
I swear, she takes that rateverywhere.
This morning, I invited Yuki to come along with us, but he hadplanstoday—something about meeting up with a red fox he was recently acquainted with—so he turned down my offer. I’ll have to ask him how it went when we get back.
“A baking class?” Poppy smiles and wipes the last bit of vanilla frosting from her plate, then puts her finger into her mouth. “I’m not sure about that. I think she’d miss the café too much. It’s home, you know?”
We all nod and make sounds of agreement. Then we gather up our plates and deposit them in the bin at the back of the café. At the same time, Layla holds up a small paper bag and says, “Here you go, Your Highness.”
Everyone watches me as I step forward and take the bag, offering Layla a smile and a thank-you. Then I turn to Raelan. A touch of nervousness twirls through my stomach. “These are for your mother and sisters. I thought we could visit them while we’re in town.”
His mask slips for a moment, eyebrows lifting and eyes widening in surprise. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again, seeming unsure.
Have I made a mistake? Does he not want me to accompany him?
Maybe our kisses yesterday meant a lot less to him than they meant to me.
“I mean, you can take them alone,” I say quickly, already hating the waver in my voice. “I’ll just head back to the academy with the girls, and—”
“No.” Raelan’s voice is firm. He glances at the bag, then back at me. “We’ll go together.”
Poppy, Lyra, and Maeve all give me varying looks, ranging from mischievous (Lyra, of course) to mildly curious (Maeve) to shy (Poppy). Beneath my breast, my heart thumps hard.
Because I’m going to meet Raelan’s family.
Chapter 20
Raelan
I SHOULD’VE SAID NO. Iwantedto say no. But when Alina’s eyes hit mine and she held up the crinkly paper bag filled with treats for my mother and sisters, how could I?
Now we’re walking down Kingfisher Crescent, Alina a stride ahead of me. Every time the breeze catches her hair and dress, it sends her scent—mixed with chocolate and strawberry and sugar—swirling around me. I keep turning my head slightly away, trying to avoid the intoxicating aroma, but no matter what I do, it surrounds me, beckons to me, tempts me to grab hold of her and drag her down a narrow street just to press my lips to hers.
But I don’t.
“What are your mother’s and sisters’ names?” Alina asks, twisting slightly to look up at me over her shoulder. The sun turns her eyes an even paler shade of blue, like an icy lake at the height of winter.
“My mother is Soraya,” I say, finally finding the power within myself to tear my gaze away. “My sisters are Gilda and Clarice. Gilda’s the youngest.” I think for a moment, then add, “She’s probably going to act... enamored around you. I apologize ahead of time.”
