Page 10 of The Witch's Spell
I step into the house, snowflakes falling from my hood as I shove it back.
Faolan is lurking in the parlor doorway, looking broody. He turns and levels a stare at me. Great, seems like he’s in a good mood, if the deep scowl and narrowed eyes are anything to go by.
“She’sfine,” he snaps, likely already reading the tension in my posture. “Back to not trusting me?”
Ignoring his remarks, I yank off my boots, sling my damp cloak onto a hook in the foyer, and then step up beside Faolan and glance into the parlor.
And there are two unfamiliar people sitting on the floor in front of the fire, each enjoying a cup of Aurora’s tea. The man glances up at me, and his eyes are a vivid blue, just like Faolan’s. My stomach tightens as his lips pull up on one side.
From the kitchen behind me, Aurora calls out, “I’m in here!”
I pull back from the doorway.
“Told you she’s fine,” Faolan grumbles.
Alden finally makes it to the cottage—I hauled ass back here after he told me about Cathal—and steps into the housewith a draft of frigid air. White flakes adorn his dark curls, but they quickly begin to melt in the warmth of the cottage.
I leave him and Faolan in the foyer and step into the kitchen. Immediately, a wall of heat washes over me, chasing the cold from my fingers and toes.
Aurora is chatting with Harrison, saying something about Yule, but I don’t catch all of it. Then Harrison notices me in the doorway, and Aurora turns from her cutting board, flashing me that gentle smile I love so much.
“Did Alden find you?” she asks as I ease up behind her, my arms wrapping around her waist to cradle her belly.
“Mm-hmm.” I press my face into her neck. Her skin is hot against mine.
She lets out a squeal. “You’re freezing!”
“Yeah, that’s what happens when you get caught in a blizzard on your way home.” Chin resting on her shoulder now, I cast my gaze out the kitchen window, where a wall of white snowflakes obscures my view of the garden. “Are the girls okay?” I ask.
“Sure are. I fed them in the coop tonight. They’re all tucked in for the storm.”
If the unfamiliar shifters weren’t here, I’d probably grab the girls and bring them in to sleep in the parlor (Aurora doesn’t mind, though I know it irks Faolan to no end), but I don’t trust them enough to bring the hens around. Speaking of...
“So, that’s Faolan’s brother?”
Aurora stops chopping potatoes—it smells like she’s making a vegetable soup—and lets out a sigh.
“Yes. Cathal. He’s the onewho . . . You know . . .”
I let out a grunt. “And the woman?”
“His mate, Orla.” Aurora’s tone lightens. “She’s nice.”
I’m not convinced, but I don’t tell Aurora this. Instead, I ask, “Why are they here?”
She resumes chopping the potatoes. “I don’t know. They said they just wanted to see Faolan, but...”
“But Faolan doesn’t believe them.”
She shakes her head, long green braid shifting along her back. “No.”
My gaze flicks to the window again. “Are they staying?”
At this point, I’ve come to expect Aurora to drag every shivering thing into the cottage, so it doesn’t surprise me when she says, “I think they should. The storm’s just getting worse.”
I reach around her to snag a sliced piece of carrot and crunch down on it while shifting to lean my back against the counter. “Does Faolan know? That you want them to stay?”
Aurora meets my eyes and bites her bottom lip. “No...”
