Page 54 of The Witch's Spell
“It’s...everything.” We’ve been collecting pine cones and boughs of pine for my Yule decorations, and I grip the wicker basket in a mittened hand, trying to steady the shaking of my fingers as my anxiety rises. “The fog, Yule, Cathal...”
At mention of his brother, Faolan snorts, tearing his gaze from mine and glaring off into the trees. Our bond flares with hot irritation.
“See?” I whisper. “He upsets you. You’ve been on edge since the day he arrived. And with him trapped here, I worry about you.”
Faolan visibly fights to wipe the scowl from his face. It takes him a moment, but slowly, the irritation abates. Finally, he’s able to let out a long sigh. It clouds around him, momentarily obscuring his blue eyes. “I’m sorry for making this more difficult. I don’twantto. You have enough going on without me making everything worse.”
The quiet of the forest spreads out around us, and I realize that I’ve missed having my moments alone with Faolan—and the other guys. This season was supposed to be slow and peaceful, but it’s turned into a mess, and I feel like I’ve barelyhad time to connect with Alden, Rowan, and Faolan thanks to how busy the fog is keeping me.
Well, the fog and Thorne, but he’s been a welcome distraction, even on my harder days.
“Have you figured out why Cathal is here?” I whisper.
Faolan gives a sharp shake of his head. “No. I’ve asked, but he’s deceptive. He doesn’t know how to speak truth.” Faolan extracts his arm from mine and takes a few steps into the trees, then kneels and scoops a big beautiful pine cone out of the snow. He holds it up to me in question. I nod, and he adds it to my basket.
“Despite his behavior up to this point,” I say, resuming our slow meandering through the woods, “I don’t believe he’s here to simply check up on you, nor is he here to antagonize you. It’s a long way from the Emberstone Mountains; they tracked you this far for a reason. But even Orla won’t open up to me. I think she wants Cathal to do it himself.”
Faolan snorts again while falling into step alongside me, keeping close by like the wolfish protector he is. “We’d be foolish to assume him capable of opening his frozen heart.”
There’s something about Faolan’s tone when he says that, and a twinge of pain comes through our bond. Arching a brow, I look up at him from under my knit cap. “Do you truly believe that?”
He reaches out to lift a low-hanging branch for me, then slips beneath it and continues along beside me. “I don’t know, Aurora. I don’t want to, but...” His broad shoulders rise and fall with a heavy sigh. “He’s my twin. I’m supposed to be closer to him than anyone, like he’s another part of me.But he locked me out years ago, pushed me away and made it impossible for us to get close.”
“Do you know why?”
He shakes his head, gaze faraway as he stares into the frozen trees.
His silence tells me he’s run out of energy for this conversation, so I cease my questioning and reach for his arm again, finding comfort in the feel of him beside me, the smell of him thick in the cold air.
“Let’s talk about cheerful things now,” I say as I cuddle up next to him.
Faolan rumbles with a gentle laugh. “Like what?”
“How about... gifts.” I flick my gaze up to his playfully, and he arches a brow in response.
“Gifts?”
“Well, yes. ItisYuletime. So, what did you get me?”
Faolan’s skeptical expression shifts to one of surprise, and a tingle of nervousness comes through our bond.
Truly, I don’t expect anything from the guys—they do quite enough for me already—but seeing the look on Faolan’s face, accompanied by a reddening of his cheeks, makes me laugh loudly and freely, and I think that may be a gift in and of itself.
Back at the cottage, we find Rowan and Thorne outside playing with the hens, laughing at the way Lucy leaps into the air in an effort to snag the dried grubs from Rowan’s hands. I feel Thorne’s pale-eyed gaze on me as we pass by,and though I know I probably shouldn’t, I glance over my shoulder and catch his stare.
Our eyes meet, sending a wave of butterflies through my stomach, but I turn quickly away, banishing the nervous excitement before it can leak through my bond with Faolan. After our walk, he seems to be in a good mood, but I don’t think that’d be the case if he discovered I’ve been kissing the strange traveler in shadowed libraries and wondering what his mouth might feel like on my naked skin.
Inside, we leave our cloaks and wet boots in the foyer, then move into the kitchen, where I pour us each a cup of tea and start plucking through the bounty we brought back from the forest.
“What are you going to make with all this?” Faolan asks from over my shoulder as I lean across the table and snatch up a beautiful spruce bough with silver-blue needles.
“A wreath for the front door,” I say, already picturing how I want it to come together. “And perhaps something to place atop the mantel in the parlor.”
Faolan continues to watch me curiously, and a short time later, Alden joins us from the parlor, carrying a book under one arm and an empty teacup in the other. He pours himself another cup, then joins me at the table and opens his book to resume reading.
For a short while, the three of us linger there in companionable quiet. I organize the pine boughs and pine cones and wonder what else might look nice in a winter bouquet. Rose hips, even dried ones, would give the bouquets and wreath a pop of color. Perhaps I’ll go back into the woods tomorrow and see what I can find.
I’m admiring the soft needles on a bough when a jolt sends me sitting up straight. Faolan pushes off the counter where he was leaning, and the soft look that had come over his blue eyes turns hard.
