Page 43 of The Witch's Shifter
“Hey, little sis,” he says affectionately. “Good to see you.”
“You too,” I squeak, throat clogged with emotion.
Wyland releases me and reaches up to help Selene out of the wagon. She moves slowly, and in one arm she’s cradling a little bundled form—my nephew, Fletcher. I cried when I read Selene’s letter telling me she’d birthed the baby, and tears are already streaking down my cheeks as she steps onto the ground and looks up to meet my eyes.
“Want to meet your nephew?” she asks.
And her voice alone makes me let out a tiny sob. Unable to speak, I just nod, and Selene steps forward and eases the baby into my arms. His blankets are warm and plush, and just his tiny face is poking out from the bundle. His cheeks are slightlyflushed from the crisp autumn air, but he’s sleeping soundly, a little smile on his pink lips.
“He’s . . . beautiful,” I say through my tears.
Wyland and Selene smile at each other, and then Wyland lifts a hand to help my mother out of the wagon.
Oh, goddess. My mother.
We’ve only exchanged a letter or two since I moved to Faunwood back in spring. Mama wasnothappy about my moving here—and I’m sure she’ll remind me of that fact throughout their weeklong stay.
Her pointy-toed boots touch down onto the ground, and she meets my eyes. Then her gaze slidesdown, to my pregnant belly. A furrow forms in her brow as her gaze flicks from Rowan to Alden, then back to my stomach.
I’ve explained a bit of this to Selene, but I have no idea what she’s told my mother. Not much, likely. And now I’ll have to elaborate.
But not yet. Right now, I just want to look at Fletcher’s perfect face and hold him close to my chest. He stirs in my arms and opens his mouth wide to yawn. Then he falls right back asleep.
“You must be Alden,” Selene says, shaking me from my admiration of Fletcher’s cheeks.
Alden bows politely. “Pleased to meet you.”
Rowan steps forward from behind me, one hand brushing along my low back. I lean into his touch a bit, appreciating the contact. Whenever I need a bit of grounding, he’s always there.
“Selene, Wyland, Evelyn.” Ever charming, Rowan shakes Wyland’s hand, then stoops to place a kiss upon Selene’s and my mother’s knuckles. My mouth almost hits the ground when a slight blush crosses my mother’s cheeks.
“And you are?” she asks.
“Sir Rowan Highcliff, my lady.”
Her blush only deepens.
Beside me, Alden shifts, and when I glance his way, I can tell he’s holding back a smile.
“Selene!” Harrison meows, and she immediately kneels and sweeps him into her arms.
“Oh, Harrison,” she says, burying her face in his silky white hair. “I’ve missed yousomuch. Which reminds me...” Carrying him, she walks to the wagon, loosens her travel bag, and pulls out a little pouch. Harrison squirms in her arms, his nose scenting the air.
“Wispfish?” he asks.
Selene can’t hear him, not like I can, but being a witch herself, she’s always had enough intuition to gather what he’s communicating without needing words.
“Wispfishjerky,” she says. “I found it at the deli andhadto get it for you. Here.” She pulls a piece of jerky from the cotton pouch and holds it out. Harrison takes a sniff, then bites down on it, making Selene giggle. “I thought you’d like it.”
Harrison devours the entire piece, then scratches at the pouch for another.
“Who’s that?” Wyland whispers, his gaze darting over my shoulder.
I turn to see Faolan still standing beside the tree. He’s not made any move to approach, and in fact, he looks like he’s contemplating whether or not he should turn and run.
But I don’t blame him. This is a lot, I know. I offer him what I hope is an encouraging smile, but he doesn’t return it.
“That’s Faolan,” I say.
