Page 87 of The Witch's Spell
“Of...” I glance away from Thorne’s silver eyes. “Of all the places we’re going to travel together. I know you love journeying, and I don’t want to stop you. So, when you go someplace new, I’ll go too. If you’ll have me.”
Silence stretches through the parlor, punctuated only by Marigold’s gentle rumbling as she sleeps in Rowan’s lap and the crackling of flames in the hearth.
Thorne breaks my gaze to look down at the map, and I’m quite sure his fingers soften on the edges, as if he wishes to be delicate.
“There’s only one problem,” he says as he rolls it up carefully.
My heart thuds. “What’s that?”
This time when Thorne looks at me, his lips are pulled back in a gleaming white smile. “It’s a bit small, given all the places we’re going to go.”
Faolan rolls his eyes and makes a subtle gagging sound. Rowan shoves him, shaking his head. And Alden just crosses his arms and laughs.
“It’s brilliant,” Thorne says. And then he pushes up from his rocking chair and presses his mouth to mine, right in front of everyone.
“Watch yourself, fairy,” Faolan growls. “That’s my mate you’re kissing.”
Rowan draws a gentle hand down Marigold’s feathers as he laughs. “Get used to it. We’ve all had to.”
Meanwhile, Thorne moves his mouth to my ear and whispers, “This is the best gift I’ve ever been given. Thank you, Aurora Silvermoon.”
My throat is feeling clogged with emotion, so I can only nod.
“Now, my gift to you,” Thorne says. He twirls a hand in the air, and a gust of wind dances around us, making Marigold squawk. From the back bedroom, a potted plant comes floating into the parlor, held aloft by Thorne’s air magic. I hold my hands out, eyes wide, and let out a tiny squeal of delight as the tiny pot settles into my palms.
“Winterflare blossoms!” I say. Thorne’s magic makes them dance, and they send a gentle burst of warmth across my face.
“They usually don’t thrive in the human realm,” Thorne says. “But I think they’ll like being here with you.”
“I’ll take good care of you,” I whisper to the orange-red flowers. “I promise.” There’s a burst of laughter from the guys, and I look up sharply. “What?”
Alden shakes his head, saying, “We just love you, little witch. For exactly who you are.”
Chapter 41
Rowan
IT’S EARLY FEBRUARY, AND THE ground is covered in a thick layer of snow. It’s been falling on and off over the last week, serving mostly to give me something to do when the stress of the upcoming birth makes me too antsy. I’ve shoveled all around the cottage multiple times now, if only to keep my body busy so my mind can’t run away with me. Aurora’s been telling us for days that the baby will arrive soon, and like usual, she was right.
Her water broke this morning, right there in the kitchen while she was pouring a cup of tea. I’m not sure who looked more startled: Aurora, Harrison, or one of us.
Honestly, it was probably me.
And now I’m pacing nervously in front of the bedroom door. Faolan ran into the village—I was actually thankful he’s a shifter for once—to fetch Niamh and the midwife, and now they’re in there with Aurora, their voices speaking soothingly, as if she isn’t about to deliver achild.
My child.
Oh, goddess.
“You okay?” Alden asks. He’s sitting on the couch, a cup of tea held in one hand and a maple cookie in the other.
I flash him a sharp look. “No, I’m not okay. How are you so calm right now?”
He shrugs and takes a bite of the cookie. “Aurora is strong,” he replies after a moment. “And eating keeps me calm.” He takes another bite as I shake my head and turn away.
Faolan looks about as nervous as I feel. He’s chewing on his thumbnail, his brow furrowed, blue eyes glaring at the closed bedroom door. Thorne is perched on the armrest of the couch, cane tapping softly against the wooden floor.
“Would you stop that?” I snap at him.
