Page 71 of The Witch's Spell
And I’m home.
The forest stretching around me is quiet, and as the fog disperses into the sunlit air, I finally catch my breath.
I didn’t know if it was going to work, even up until the moment it finally did. When Aurora called my name, her scream barely audible over the force of my storm, I was ready to give up, to let it all go.
But now I’m here.
And she’s . . . not.
The roots binding my legs still are, and I use a short burst of flame to scorch them, making the thick fiber smolder away and release me from its hold. Only when I’ve pulled myself free and stepped back do I realize how empty my hands feel without Aurora’s in them.
I hold my hands out. My skin is red from the cold and from the force of the wind tearing around me. And it makes me worry for Aurora. Is she okay? I hope my storm didn’t hurt her. I need to get back, to ensure—
“Thorne?”
I tear my gaze from my hands and cast it into the trees. And there, emerging from behind the trunk of an ancient oak, is Aurora. The hat she was wearing earlier is missing, and her hair is completely tangled and windblown. But her cheeks are pink, her eyes are bright, and she’s here.
She’s here.
Despite not having my cane, I move toward her as fast as my feet will carry me. And when I reach her, I pull her into my arms, crushing her to my chest and burying my face in the side of her neck.
“You shouldn’t have come,” I say, even as I breathe in her smell and relish the feel of her soft, round body in my arms. “It’s dangerous. The portal could have let you out anywhere. You could’ve been lost here.”
“I... I thought you were gone,” she says, voice thick. “But I didn’t want you to go.”
Pulling back, I look into her eyes. Then my palms find her cheeks, my thumbs drifting over her skin. She has a small cut beneath one eye, and a thin line of blood has gathered along it.
“You’re hurt,” I say. “I’m so sorry.”
Aurora shakes her head. “No. Don’t be. You fixed it, Thorne.” Her green eyes shine with unshed tears. “You fixed the portal.”
Gently, I wipe the blood from her cheek, then lean in topress a kiss to her forehead. When my lips pull away, I whisper, “Wedid it. I couldn’t have done that without you. If your earth magic hadn’t been there to stabilize the energy of the portal, I don’t think it would have worked.”
Aurora nods once. When I look down and try to meet her eyes, she’s looking away from me, refusing to meet my gaze.
And I need to know, right now, what’s been bothering her.
“Aurora, look at me.”
Hesitantly, she does.
“What’s the matter? Since yesterday, you’ve been quiet, distant. It’s unlike you.” My hands move to her arms, still wrapped in her cloak, and I squeeze them gently. “Was it something I did? Have I upset you in some way?”
A single tear streaks down her cheek. She winces when it touches the cut below her eye. Reaching up to rub the spot, she says quietly, “I’m sorry. I haven’t meant to be cold to you. I just...” A tear streaks from her other eye.
My stomach squeezes. I still don’t understand.
“I’ve been afraid,” she says at long last.
“Of?” I prompt, voice gentle.
“Of... Of you leaving. Now that the fog is gone and the portal is fixed, you can go anywhere. But I’m going to miss you.” She hides her face in her hands, and her voice is muffled when she says, “Selfishly, I want you to stay. I don’t want you to leave.”
I take a breath.
Finally, it all makes sense: her moments of hesitance, the tears she shed as we lay on the couch together, her sad smiles and faraway eyes.
I didn’t realize. And while I don’t generally consider myself a fool, I think I’ve certainly been foolish when it comes to her. Instead of letting her worry and wonder, I should’ve come clean and told her how I feel.
