Page 18 of The Witch's Spell
Glancing back, I find the villagers staring, clutching their cloaks and one another’s hands.
I thinkthey’remaking me more nervous than the fog is. And they’re all waiting to watch me walk into it.
So, with a steadying breath, I turn toward the gray-white wall floating ahead of me.
And I step into it.
Chapter 11
Faolan
THE SUN IS OUT, THE snow has stopped, and it’s time for Cathal to get the hell out of here.
But instead ofgetting out, he’s seated at Aurora’s kitchen table, stuffing his face with sourdough smeared with blackberry jam.
And Aurora keeps feeding him, and pouring him cups of tea, and trying to be polite. Even so, I can tell she’s on edge around him, like she wants to say something but is keeping it to herself. I keep trying to catch her eye, but I think she’s purposefully ignoring me, considering she promised me last night that Cathal and Orla would stay for the storm and then leave.
But they still haven’t gone.
And Thorne, the odd pale-haired one, is still lingering around as well. He and Orla are having tea on the front porch, and I can just barely hear their low voices from here, though they’re quiet enough I can’t make out individual words.
There’s something off about him. If his silver eyes hadn’t given it away, his smell certainly would’ve. Only problem is, I don’tknowwhat it is he smells like. There’s a hint of something almost sweet to his scent, similar to Aurora’s smell but different enough that I know he’s not a warlock. Still don’t know exactly what heis, though, and that’s serving to irritate me this morning as well.
“Want some?” Cathal asks, pushing a plated piece of bread toward me. He already took a bite out of it. A big bite.
Asshole.
“No.” I ignore it and turn away from him, trying not to let the blackberries tempt me. If his hands or mouth have been anywhere around it, I’m not eating it.
Childish? Yes. Do I care? No.
“Can I make you something else?” Aurora asks from where she stands at the kitchen counter.
That’s just what she needs—to makemultiplebreakfasts and be up and on her feet for longer than necessary, especially given how sore and achy she already is from the pregnancy.
“No,” I snap.
Her brow furrows. A surge of discontent floods our bond.
Fuck.
I’m being a dick, I know. But I can’t seem to shake how irritable Cathal’s presence makes me. Even fucking Aurora last night only helped for a short while, and it’s not like I can throw her over my shoulder and carry her to the bedroom every time I get annoyed at my brother.
So before I can say something I regret, I stand from the kitchen table and walk into the parlor, where Alden andHarrison are sitting on the couch. Alden has a plate of bread and jam on his lap, and he’s letting Harrison lick a bit of blackberry off his fingertip. He and I finished the shoveling this morning, and now he looks like he’s ready for an early-afternoon nap.
“I’m going out,” I say. Then, lower, “Watch them, will you?”
Cathal barks out a laugh from the kitchen, probably having overheard me, and I grind my teeth.
Alden seems to understand, because he gives me a knowing look and a nod.
I storm outside, vault smoothly over the porch railing so I don’t have to squeeze past Orla and Thorne, and head for the trees.
“Faolan!” Orla calls from behind me.
I keep walking without turning around.
“Where are you going?” she calls again.
