Page 1 of The Witch's Spell
Chapter 1
Aurora
OUTSIDE THE KITCHEN WINDOW, THE sun gleams over the top of the forest, making the frost-covered trees glitter. Everything is encased in a thin layer of ice, and what remains of the snow from our first storm is still clumped beneath the pine trees, clinging to the shadows lest the sun melt it all away.
Our first snow arrived exactly when Faolan said it would—we returned home to Brookside from our run through the woods just as the big flakes started to fall. That night, we huddled by the fire and ate mushroom soup and watched snow blanket the world outside in white silence.
After that, the men doubled down to finish the expansion on the cottage, and now we have another bedroom and washroom right off the parlor, and it’s provided someverynecessary breathing room. As moving up and down the stairs has become more difficult for me, I’ve taken to sleeping in the new room, and it’s made maneuvering around the cottage so much easieron me.
In my belly, the baby shifts. It feels like a gentle fluttering, or like butterflies. I cast my gaze down, away from the winter wonderland out the window, and run a hand lovingly over my stomach. I’m a full seven months pregnant now—so close to meeting the little one that I can almost feel their weight in my arms already.
I’m so excited to meet you, I think.
And it might be my imagination, but I think the baby moves again in response.
“Harry’s here!” Harrison calls from the parlor, and I immediately perk up. A burst of nervous excitement goes through me. I need to get that letter before anyone else can get their hands on it.
Turning from the kitchen counter, I pad into the foyer, feet warm in a freshly knitted pair of socks. Despite the fires in the hearth burning night and day, cold clings to the wooden floors, and my days of flittering barefoot indoors and out are sadly over, at least until spring arrives.
Popping my head through the parlor doorway, I find Harrison perched on the back of the couch, staring out the window, fluffy white tail swishing to and fro.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He glances my way, green eyes bright in the winter sunlight, and gives me a knowing nod.
Harrison is the only one who knows what I’m planning—or what I’mtryingto plan, at least. This letter will reveal once and for all whether or not my many weeks of plotting will come to fruition.
My stomach flutters again, but I can’t tell if it’s the baby or just my nervous excitement.
A light knock sounds at the door. I sweep it open, and there’s Harry, our young mail carrier. He smiles up at me, bundled in a thick cloak and woolen gloves, his cheeks beet red from the cold.
“Hello, Miss Silvermoon.”
“Hello, Harry. Come in, come in,” I say, stepping back and waving him in.
He doesn’t hesitate to step into the cottage and out from the cold. I close the door firmly behind him, trying to keep as much heat inside the home as possible. The men have been chopping wood nonstop to keep our woodshed full, and I’ve no intention of wasting it.
“Got another one for you,” Harry says. With his thick mittens, he struggles to sort through the letters crammed into his shoulder bag.
Smiling, I leave him to search through his satchel and head into the kitchen, where fresh blackberry cookies sit on a platter, steaming in the sunlight. I made plenty of blackberry cobbler this past autumn, but the bushes around the cottage were heaped with such abundance that I still have a few baskets left over, and making cookies and muffins with them has become one of my new routines—and the men certainly haven’t voiced any words of complaint.
I snatch two warm cookies from the platter and carry them back into the foyer. Harry has just found the envelope he was looking for, and he holds it out to me. We exchange the cookies for the letter, and his eyes light up as he takes his first bite.
“Can you teach my mom how to make these?” he asks, blue-tinted crumbs clinging to his lips.
With a giggle, I nod. “Of course. I’ll write it down for her, and you can pick it up next time you’re here.”
“Thank you, Miss Silvermoon!” He finishes off the first cookie, then starts in on the second as I open the front door.
“Stay warm out there!” I call to him as he leaps off the porch, stumbles, and then rights himself and continues happily down Brookside Road.
Letter held firmly in one hand, I close the door.
“Who’s that from?”
“Goddess!” I squeal, clutching the letter to my breast and whirling around to find Rowan standing at the bottom of the stairs. His red hair is pulled back from his face, and his verdant eyes gleam in the light. My chest thunders from the surprise. “You startled me.”
His smile is quick and easy. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to.” Glancing at the letter, he cants his head.
