Page 65 of The Witch and His Crow

You have no idea.

I hated knowing what was to become of her. Eleanor’s death, riding on the horizon, like the impending doom of the four horsemen. I only hoped she got to live, experience life, before Witch Hunters stole hers from her.

If anything, it gave me one more reason to hate them. As if I needed any more.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Besides the single lantern Eleanor provided us, there was nothing to provide light or heat inside the stable. It forced me and Arwyn to sit almost face to face, blankets wrapped around our shoulders, sharing heat from one another’s bodies. Which made it really awkward, because Arwyn was currently giving me the silent treatment. He was colder to me than the night air around us.

I turned to the alcohol Eleanor provided for warmth, since it was that or asking Arwyn to take me in his arms again, andclearlywe were beyond that.

Turned out, drinking did the opposite at making me not care. I hyper-fixated on whatever issue he had with me, to the point I was boiling over with the need to break the silence. Since returning to the stable, his mood had been thunderous. Although he’d not said a word, from the looks he gave me to the impenetrable silence he was forcing us to sit through, I could tell he was angry about something. And frankly, I didn’t have the patience to deal with a grown man throwing his toys out of the pram.

I was almost a whole bottle of mead down when I finally asked Arwyn what was bothering him.

‘What’s up with you?’ I asked, hiccupping after downing two gulps of mead.

‘Nothing,’ Arwyn snapped.

Liar. ‘You’ve had a face like a slapped arse since we left Eleanor’s house.’

‘Then stop looking at me.’

A deranged laugh bubbled up inside of me. I fought the urge to smack the glass bottle over his head. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, Arwyn.’

He stared me down, drinking me in. At least I was suddenly something worthy of his attention. ‘It takes more than a boy like you to flatter me.’

Boy like me? Now that pissed me off. ‘You couldn’t even begin to understand what type ofboyI am, Arwyn. Don’t kid yourself.’

In the dark, his eyes had a dark navy hue, like the deepest parts of the ocean. I wished I didn’t care about that minute detail, but with the little space between us, there wasn’t much else to distract myself with—besides the grimoire stashed in my pocket, the one I’d not shown Arwyn yet. Perhaps if he hadn’t gone back to treating me like a rival, I would’ve shown him. For now, it’d be my little secret.

‘I don’t intend to figure it out,’ Arwyn said, gritting his teeth, eyes shifting, all suggesting otherwise.

‘Seriously, what is your problem?’ The mead was talking. It gave me confidence. Sober me would’ve found a space on the straw-covered floor and slept. But drunk me enjoyed the tango of an argument. It was almost too natural to get into it with Arwyn.

Enjoyable, perhaps. A distraction, certainly.

‘Ever since we left Eleanor, you’ve hardly said a word to me. And don’t give me some shite excuse, if you expect us to seethis trial through together, start being honest. If something is bothering you, say it.’

‘You.’

‘Well, fuck me. If that wasn’t already obvious.’ I rocked back where I was sitting, almost tipping over the bale of hay. ‘I know I asked for honesty, but sugar coating it a little wouldn’t go amiss.’

‘I don’t sugar coat anything, Hector. You asked, and now I’ve told you. Get back to keeping that bottle of mead to yourself and leave me in peace.’

I thrust the bottle towards him, so hard it smashed into his chest with a thump. Not to my surprise, Arwyn didn’t react. He simply looked down the perfect point of his nose to the bottle and my hand, then took it from me.

‘Dare I ask what exactly I’ve done?’

‘Where do I even begin?’

‘Twat,’ I spat.

Arwyn glowered over the neck of the bottle as he tipped it back. I wished I was strong enough to hold his gaze, but the second a dribble of alcohol ran down the corner of his lips, my eyes drifted. I watched it run over his chin, catching in the days of stubble growing on his jaw. The droplet rolled down the plane of his neck and then disappeared into the neckline of his tunic.

‘My eyes are up here,’ Arwyn said, bringing me back to the moment by placing two fingers beneath my chin and lifting my face up. ‘Not down there.’

So now he was flirting with me again?

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