Page 28 of The Witch's Spell
THE INK ON THE PAGE in front of me swims in my tired vision, and I try to suppress a yawn. We’ve been reading by firelight for hours, and I think Aurora must’ve brewed at least four batches of tea. But so far, none of Lilith’s spellbooks have mentioned anything related to magical fog.
I reach for another blackberry cookie only to find the platter empty. When I glance up, I discover Alden has snagged the last one. He catches me looking and waggles it in the air. I narrow my eyes.
In the rocking chair, Aurora closes the book she’s been reading with a gentle thump and sets it on the low table. Her hand goes to her head, and she massages her temple. There are dark circles beneath her eyes. It’s clear she’s stressed and exhausted.
I mark my page with a strand of ribbon, push up off the floor, and reach a hand out for Aurora. “Time for you to get some sleep.”
Her brow furrows. “I’m fine. And I should really keep work—”
In her lap, Harrison lets out a sharp meow, cutting her off. The crease in her brow only deepens. He meows again. Hopefully he’s telling her to go to bed. And hopefully she’ll listen to him.
She lets out a conceding sigh. “All right. Bedtime.”
Harrison hops down. As he trots past Faolan, who’s sprawled out on the floor in front of the fire, he flicks the shifter in the face with his silky tail, making Faolan jolt awake.
“Damn cat,” he grumbles sleepily.
And I’m pretty sure Harrison smiles before padding up the stairs.
Aurora puts her hand in mine, and I help her to her feet. It’s my night to sleep with her—finally. I want to be beside her every night, to keep her wrapped in my arms until the sun kisses the sky, but I have to share her with the others. And somehow, we’ve developed an arrangement that works, at least for now. Though I don’t know how things will change once the baby arrives, which is only a couple months away.
My gaze goes to Aurora’s belly, swollen beautifully beneath her woolen dress. Suddenly, her eyes widen, and she snatches my hand before I know what’s happening. Placing it to her stomach, she says, “Do you feel that?”
I hold my breath. Alden, Thorne, and Faolan watch with interest.
And under my hand, I feel a pulse, a flutter beneath Aurora’s skin. Then it happens again, harder this time.
I flick my gaze to Aurora’s. “Was that . . . ?”
Her smile is sleepy and peaceful. “The baby.”
There’s a sudden rushing in my ears. My son or daughter is in there, wrapped in the safety of Aurora’s belly, biding their time before entering our world.
Suddenly, I feel like I might cry.
But all the others are watching me, so I clear my throat and blink the moisture from my eyes. I think Aurora sees, because she lifts a hand to my cheek, her smile softening.
“I want to feel it,” Faolan says.
“Me too,” Alden announces.
I move aside, and they take turns putting their hands on Aurora’s belly. As I stand back, Thorne catches my eye. His silver eyes are both curious and calculating as he observes me and the others, still gathered around Aurora. Then a look of comprehension crosses his face. Perhaps he just figured out that I’m the father.
I’ve barely spoken with Thorne, except to exchange niceties. He’s so quiet it’s almost easy to forget he’s in the room. But those gleaming eyes of his are always watching.
Faolan thinks he’s keeping secrets from us, and though I typically don’t agree with much that Faolan says, I’m inclined to side with him on this front. There’s something...otherabout Thorne, a strangeness he’s yet to explain. If not for the storm and now the magical fog, I’d probably have tried to drag the truth out of him, but my focus can only be split in so many directions at once.
And right now, the only thing I want to focus on is climbing into bed with Aurora.
She yawns, and I take that as my cue to shoo the other two away and usher Aurora toward the bedroom.
“Good night,” she tells them.
There’s a chorus of “good nights” in return. Then I guide her through the doorway, hand on her low back, and close the door behind us.
As we lie in bed watching the fire dance in the hearth, Aurora’s head on my chest, she asks, “What are we going to do?”
I don’t need her to clarify that she’s talking about the fog.
