Page 31 of The Witch's Spell
Ugh.
I spear the shovel into the deep snow, then reach up and unclasp the cloak from about my neck. As I slip it from my shoulders, the cold air rushes in, brushing over my hot skin. I sigh in relief.
Ten minutes later, I’ve made more progress, though the snow is heavier and more frozen in the big patch of shadow I’m currently working through. Rowan has walked this path a few times since the storm, and from where I’m seated on a boulder taking a short break, I can see his tracks leading into the distance. He left early this morning, before the sun had even risen, and he’ll likely not return until the sun has set.
A feeling of appreciation rises up in me. I wasn’t sure about Rowan at first, wasn’t fully convinced he and I could get along with Aurora trapped in the middle. But he’s become... Well, I suppose he’s a friend now. Perhaps one of my best friends. And I see how hard he works, how he commits himself both to the village and to our eclectic Brookside family.
He’s a good man. I’m happy Aurora found him and brought him home.
Untying my canteen from my hip, I take a deep swallow. The water is cold and reinvigorates me for another batch of shoveling. But just as I return the canteen to my hip and push to my feet, I hear boots crunching through the distant snow.
My gaze goes to the path, and a smile tugs on my lips when a woman with curly dark hair comes into view. Each step through the snow is a struggle, and she’s grumbling profanities under her breath, curls falling into her face and impeding her view.
“Damn snow,” she’s saying as she draws nearer. I don’t think she’s noticed me yet. “I’m moving south, to the beach. I’ve had enough of thi—oh!” Lydia jolts to a stop, hand going to her chest. “Alden! You scared me!”
I chuckle. “I didn’t do anything. I’m just standing here.”
She huffs out a breath. “Well, you could’ve at least said something. Goddess.”
Her cheeks are red, probably from the cold and from hiking all the way here through the snow. She peels an arm out from beneath her cloak and pushes her hair back from her face.
“Here.” I remove the canteen from my hip once more and pass it to her.
She drinks deeply, spilling some down her chin. Once she’s had her fill, she sighs contentedly. “Thank you.”
As I take the canteen back and make a show of wiping off the mouthpiece—she glares in response—I ask, “What are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to Aurora. And you.”
One of my brows arches. “Is everything okay?”
Her sigh is heavy, and her lips pull into a frown. “Not really.” Lifting her dark gaze, she peers down the path I’ve already shoveled. “Can we talk over a cup of tea?”
“We’re all at a loss,” Lydia says as Aurora pours her a cup of lavender tea. The soft floral scent curls through the sunlit kitchen, mixing with the smell of fresh cinnamon bread steaming on the countertop. “The villagers sent me to talk to you.”
“Tome?” Aurora’s brows rise as she turns and sets the teacup and saucer on the table in front of Lydia.
I’m leaning in the doorway, and behind me in the parlor, Thorne is seated in the rocking chair, another spellbook open in his hand. Surprisingly, Harrison is sitting with him, allowingthe stranger to scratch him behind the ears. Weird. Harrison usually takes time to come around. I still don’t think he’s let Faolan touch him.
Speaking of Faolan, I wonder where he’s off to. He was asleep in the second bedroom upstairs when I woke, but I’m not sure if he’s still sleeping or not. Maybe. Given how much he sleeps, you’d like he was a cat and not a wolf.
My lips curve up. I should save that one and use it on him later. He’d hate it.
Aurora takes a seat across from Lydia, then realizes she left the freshly sliced bread on the counter. Before she can push to her feet, I step into the kitchen and grab the platter. She gives me a smile as I set it on the table, along with a tiny butter dish and a gleaming silver butter knife.
“With Niamh gone,” Lydia says, “you’re the only one the villagers feel they can turn to.” She looks down into her teacup, where beautiful purple petals float through her tea. “None of us know what to do, and we’re... we’re scared.” Lydia sounds defeated.
I look at Aurora.
Her forehead is slowly furrowing, and she captures her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying at it. A storm brews in her green eyes.
“Do you have any idea what might’ve caused the fog? Or how to get rid of it?” Lydia continues.
Aurora opens her mouth, but she seems to lose her train of thought, because nothing comes out.
Quickly, I say, “We’re searching Lilith’s old spellbooks. Hopefully we’ll find something that’ll help us figure this out.”
What I don’t tell her is that we’ve already read through a number of the books, and only a few are left. With each page turned, I think we’re losing hope. But Lydia doesn’t need to know that, and neither do the villagers. I think it’s best they stay calm while we try to learn more about the fog and how to rid ourselves of it.
