Page 10 of The Irresistible Warrior
And yet… she’d seen it with her own eyes when they returned to the village and a bevy of women were waiting there with their fathers to lay claim to Declan.
Two chieftains’ daughters had dropped like stones, eyes glazed and sighing his name like he was some legendary bard’s ballads come to life. And Aura… hadn’t.
She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall of her small cottage, staring at the hearth as the fire snapped and popped.
What did it mean?
Was she immune? Was the wish weakening? Or was there something about her—plain, unremarkable, overlooked—that simply didn’t fit whatever magic was at work?
She didn’t mind not falling. She wasn’t prone to that sort of nonsense in the first place. But her mind itched with questions. How had the wish taken root? Why did it choose to manifest so literally? What force had granted it?
And more curiously… why had Declan made such a foolish wish to begin with?
Aura chewed the inside of her cheek.
There had been no malice in him when he told her. No sign of pride, either. Only frustration and exhaustion. And, beneath it all, something that looked very much like regret.
She wasn’t sure what to make of him. But she did know one thing. Whatever magic had touched his life, it had twisted his path—and now, somehow, she was tangled in it.
She turned back to her worktable and wondered why she was immune to his wish when not a single woman, young or old, could avoid it. Further observation was needed to see if she could make sense of it and help him. In the meantime, he had to make sure to avoid swooning women.
She let out a brief laugh, though it truly wasn’t funny. He was a man cursed by his own words, and possibly, by something much older, and that could prove dangerous.
The morning miststill clung to the trees when Declan reached her small stone cottage tucked among the woods. It was better maintained than the village dwellings with fresh thatching in various areas of the roof. A generous stack of firewood was piled near the home, and a sizeable garden extended out from the side of the cottage.
He took a breath and rapped his knuckles against the door.
The door swung open as he dropped his hand away.
Aura stood in the doorway, hair tied back with a strip of linen, sleeves rolled to her elbows. She gave him a quick once-over. “You look troubled.”
“You could say that,” he muttered.
“I thought you might come,” she said, stepping aside. “But before you say whatever it is you came to say, I want to ask you something.”
Declan hesitated, then nodded and followed her inside.
She moved to her table, motioning for him to sit. “You told me about the wish. But something about it still doesn’t sit right with me. That night… do you recall anything else? Anything strange?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Strange?” he repeated, brow furrowed. “We’d just won a long, grueling battle. Everyone was half-mad with exhaustion. We drank, laughed… and made our wishes.”
“And?”
He stared at the table for a long moment, then said slowly, “There was a figure, in the woods. I thought it was a dream… we all did. No one could see it clearly, but… the moment the last wish was spoken, it vanished.”
Aura’s gaze sharpened. “A figure?”
“Aye. Dark cloak, face hidden. There one moment, gone the next.”
Her eyes narrowed with recognition. “That makes a difference.”
Declan looked up. “How so?”
“Because you’re not just dealing with the consequences of a foolish wish,” she said, her voice calm but serious. “You’re dealing with a witch.”
Declan leaned back, blinking. “A witch?”
Aura nodded. “And if she’s the one who granted your wish…” Her nod changed to a shake. “It makes no sense. Witches don’tgrant wishes. Unraveling this won’t be as simple as reason or regret. Magic leaves a trace. But it also leaves a purpose.”
