Page 21 of The Witch's Spell
“Rowan’s back. Let’s ask him about it.”
We all trek back out of the trees, and though his cane slows him down some, Thorne keeps pace with us. Given how deep the snow is where Alden and Faolan have not yet had a chance to shovel, I believe it would be exceedingly difficult for Thorne to make it all the way to Faunwood. Later, I’ll invite him to stay a few more days, at least until the snow is gone.
As for Cathal and Orla . . .
My eyes flick to Faolan, who’s walking at the front of our group, shoulders bunched with tension. If he wants them gone, I’ll ask them to go stay at the Golden Lantern. They’d be able to traverse the deep snow with much less trouble. But they’ll need eldertokens for that, and I don’t believe they brought any currency—oranything—with them.
What a conundrum this has become.
When we step out of the trees and round the front of the cottage, Rowan is standing on the porch, looking for us. He sees us and immediately heads in our direction. Faolan launches right in before Rowan can get a word out.
“What do you know about this?” he asks, voice rough. He points toward the trees, other hand still balled into a fist.
Rowan looks just as confused as the rest of us. “I don’t know. But Faunwood is surrounded. I checked the entire perimeter. There’s no way in or out.”
No way in or out . . .
With a jolt, I realize what this means.
If no one can leave or enter Faunwood, we’re all stuck here. And if this is still around come Yule, the Highcliffs won’t be able to visit. No one will.
My stomach twists into a knot. I’ve not had morning sickness in some time, but right now, I’m feeling a touch nauseated.
“The villagers are in a panic,” Rowan continues.
“What of Lydia and James?” Alden asks from behind me.
“They’re fine. James helped me check the village boundaries today while Lydia tried to comfort the others.”
“And what about Niamh?” I ask, voice quiet. As our oracle, she may have more information. Perhaps she’ll know how to do away with the fog.
Rowan shakes his head. “She’s not here. She left for Wysteria a few days ago, and she’s yet to return.”
Without Niamh here . . .
I swallow hard.
Am I the only person left in Faunwood who has any understanding of magic? And even then, my knowledge of the other magics—anything apart from earth magic—is shaky at best. I wasn’t exactly a star student at Coven Crest Academy.
I’d hoped Niamh would help us solve this, but without her here...
I might actually be sick.
“I need to sit down,” I say. Alden, Rowan, and Faolan all make to step forward, but I hold up a hand. “I’m okay, really. Just feeling winded.”
The others follow me into the cottage, and I take a seat in the rocking chair next to the softly burning fire. Harrison jumps into my lap, his paws cold from being outside. Alden pours me a cup of tea and brings it to me on a baby-blue saucer while the others hover around in the parlor, expressions ranging from curious to angry—the latter being Faolan, of course. He’s been so prickly since Cathal showed up. It reminds me slightly of his behavior toward Rowan in those early weeks of knowing him.
Cathal and Orla sink onto the couch, Cathal’s arm around Orla’s shoulders. Faolan crosses his arms, looking grumpy, while Alden pours another cup of tea and Rowan paces in front of the hearth. Thorne hangs back, lurking in the doorway, leaning against the frame. When I look at him, his silver eyes flick to mine, looking equal parts intrigued and troubled.
I don’t blame him. He’s stuck here now, in a house so full of people we’re nearly spilling out the windows. I offer him a small smile, but he doesn’t offer one in return, instead moving his gaze from me to the fire.
“So, what do we do?” Faolan asks.
Rowan continues pacing, one hand stroking his clean-shaven chin. As one of the king’s knights, he’s seen his fair share of combat and oddities, but even so, he doesn’trespond to Faolan’s question, doesn’t even seem to know where to begin.
We all look around at one another, probably hoping someone else will come up with an answer so we won’t have to.
It’s Alden who finally slips past Thorne and steps into the parlor, announcing, “What if we try to burn it away? Heat should disperse the moisture, right? We could take up torches, light bonfires...” Trailing off, he shrugs. “Might be worth a shot.”
