Page 4 of Utterly Dauntless

CHAPTER THREE

Aries stood at the gate of the stone house with her heart hammering. The garden was overgrown. Herbs and flowers tangled together. Grandmother's pride and joy looked abandoned, though she knew better. A witch's garden often looked chaotic to outsiders—it was part of the protection.

"Stop stalling," she muttered, and pushed open the iron gate. It creaked in protest, and she winced at the sound. A quick glance up and down the street proved she was alone. No Highlanders lying in wait, at least not that she could see.

Dawn was just breaking, painting the Highland sky in shades of pearl and rose. She'd come at first light, knowing her grandmother would already be awake. The woman always said the magic was strongest at dawn and dusk.

The letter had arrived in Aries' hand only three days ago, forwarded through so many channels it had taken weeks to reach her. Just a few lines in her grandmother's shaky hand:Come soon, mo chridhe. Time grows short.She just hoped she wasn't too late.

The path to the door was lined with rosemary for remembrance, thyme for courage. She knew every plant, every stone. Nothing had changed except her. She was no longer the young witch who had fled Inverness so long ago, when she thought she was a curse. And she was no longer the Aries that Grey had fallen in love with before she abandoned the city a second time.

She reached for the brass knocker, but the door swung open before she could touch it.

"Took ye long enough," her grandmother said, waving her closer. She was smaller than Aries remembered, more frail, but her eyes were as sharp as ever, and the sparkle in them allayed her immediate fears. "Well? Are you going to stand there catching flies or come give your gran a proper hello?"

Aries stepped into her gran's embrace. The old woman smelled of dusty herbs and woodsmoke, just as she always had. For a moment, Aries was a child again, safe in familiar arms.

"I shouldn't have come," she whispered into her grandmother's silver hair. "Grey's looking for me. His friends too, by now."

"My, my." Her grandmother pulled back to look at her. "That boy's more stubborn than a Highland bull. Had to be, to keep chasing ye all these years."

"Gran—"

"Don't 'Gran' me in that tone. Come in and have some tea. We need to talk." She turned and walked into the cottage, leaving Aries to close the door and follow.

The interior was exactly as she remembered—herbs hanging from the rafters, jars of mystery ingredients lining one shelf, a kettle always ready on the hearth, and the same frilly pink cushions on the kitchen chairs. But there were new things too. Bottles of modern medicines on the kitchen counter. A walking stick propped by the table.

"Sit," the woman ordered, and lowered herself carefully onto her usual chair. She waved toward the hearth. "The tea's already brewing. Fetch it when ye’ve caught yer breath. Saw ye coming, didn't I?"

"You're still having visions then?" Aries took a folded rag to the hearth and collected the kettle before taking her seat.

"Some. Not as clear as they used to be." Gran poured tea into two of her most beloved cups. "But clear enough to know my time's runnin’ short."

"Gran, no?—"

"Hush now. We all have our allotment of life, and mine was more generous than most." She pushed one of the cups across the table. "Drink and listen. There are things that must be said."

Aries took a tiny burning sip, then set the tea aside. "You're not dying, Gran. Do you hear?"

The old woman's laugh was as papery as a breeze rustling through the herbs drying overhead. "I've lived long enough to see three generations of Muir witches come into their powers. And long enough to see one give hers away." She reached across the table and touched Aries' hand. "Nothin' wrong with that, mo chridhe. And nothin' wrong with findin' happiness with yer dragon, neither. But to suddenly leave it all... It was a spit in the face, it was. And no matter how long it's been, ye need to own up now."

"I've moved on," Aries lied. "And he needs to?—"

"Aye, he needs to move on as well, but how can he? How can he marry another when?—"

"Marry?"

Her grandmother filled her lungs and let the air out in a long sigh. "Ye took his heart and ran, Aries. After two years of happiness, and without explanation. It's time to give it back so he can offer it to another. And ye must do it face to face."

It suddenly dawned on Aries that her grandmother might be in league with Grey. Had he fallen in love with someone? Was that why she'd been summoned back home? To sign some paper?

Barely able to breathe for the pain in her chest, she shifted so she could look the old woman in the eye. "Did he put you up to this? Did he ask you to send that note?"

"Pah!" The old eyes held steady. "No matter how badly I wanted to see ye, I would never have betrayed ye."

"Then you...you really aren't well?"

"I'm heartsore as much as anything else. Heartsore and weary. And before I lay down my bones, I'll have peace where ye’re concerned." Gran patted her hand again. "What frightened ye off, hmm? Did ye regret givin' up yer power after all? If ye wanted it back, ye could have asked Wickham?—"

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