Page 26 of The Witch's Spell
“We don’t need your help.”
Cathal snorts. “You sure?”
“Stop it,” I snap, voice so sharp everyone looks at me. “Something is obviouslyverywrong here, and we don’t needyou two making it worse. Either get along or get away from each other.”
Alden’s eyes widen, his brows lifting toward his hairline. Beside me, Rowan has to hide his laughter with a cough.
Faolan flexes his fingers into fists as our bond pulses with another wave of anger. His blue eyes narrow. Then he turns and stalks away, disappearing into the trees.
With the fog, I know he won’t get far. Still, his frustration and anger are only serving to make this more difficult. Things are hard enough as is, and I don’t need the twins arguing every time they’re asked to spend five minutes together.
Across from me, Orla nudges Cathal. Though he seems reluctant, he finally says, “Sorry, Aurora.”
But I’m already angry, and I’m thinking of the scars wrapping Faolan’s upper body, and Cathal’s apology does little to tame me.
“If you two are going to stay here”—my gaze flicks between Cathal and Orla—“you need to figure out how to make peace. Stop instigating. You’re well aware Faolan doesn’t want you here, and you’re just making it worse. If you can’t control yourself, you can go stay at the inn. I’ve had quite enough of your bickering.”
Now Cathal’s eyes darken. I don’t think he’s used to being properly admonished byanyone—except maybe Orla. She places a hand on his chest and whispers something into his ear. Then, without a word, he turns on a heel and strides in the opposite direction, toward the distant trees. Orla looks back at me, frowns, and then follows him.
Now it’s just the four of us.
I let out a heavy sigh.
“Well,” Alden says, “what do we do now?”
The guys don’t have any ideas.
I’ve got one, but I’m not so sure it’ll work.
Placing my hands on my hips, I say, “There’s only one thing we can do now: Read Auntie’s spellbooks. Every last one. She helped us with the thornbugs; maybe she can help with this too. She might be our only hope.”
Chapter 15
Faolan
AS THE SUNLIGHT FALLS BEYOND the distant horizon, the air grows colder. In my human body, I shiver. I long to leave my human skin behind, to run headlong into the woods until I collapse upon the snow and can scarcely stand for the trembling of my legs.
But thanks to this damn fog, I’m not going anywhere. And as far as I know, neither is Cathal.
Asshole.
I reach down from where I’m seated on a boulder and grab a handful of snow. After crushing it into a tight ball, I fling it into the trees. It connects with a trunk with a satisfying crack. With each snowball, I imagine throwing it right at Cathal’s infuriating smirking face. It makes me feel better. A little.
I’m reaching for another handful of snow when I hear distant footsteps crunching through the trees.
My body tenses, prepared for a fight.
But the smell that drifts to me on the cold air is familiar—and more than welcome.
She approaches quietly, hesitantly.
Before she can say I word, I hang my head and say, “I’m sorry.”
And I am. Truly. I hope she can feel it through our bond.
Aurora steps into my line of sight, clad in her thick cloak, a knit hat pulled over her head. Instead of taking a seat on the boulder beside me, she opts to sit in my lap instead. My arms loop around her waist, and she cuddles closer to me, resting her head on my shoulder.
For a while, we sit there in the quiet of the winter evening, not speaking, our breath curling into steam that twines sinuously before dispersing into the air.
