Page 33 of The Witch's Spell
I’m not so sure I want to get anywhere close to that magical anomaly, but if everyone is depending onmeto fix it, I suppose I’ll need to try to figure out what itis, exactly. So, with a small nod, I say, “Sure.”
After donning our boots and cloaks, we step out the front door and into the crisp air. The sun is bright, but I can still see my breath as I descend the steps and wait at the bottom for Thorne. Despite his cane, he traverses the stairs with relative ease, and then we’re off on our walk toward the woods, Harrison trotting along with us.
“I’m sorry I’ve not done more to make you feel comfortable,” I say, realizing that Thorne has been in my home for two days and I could probably count on one hand how many conversations we’ve had. “It’s just been...” I sigh. “A lot lately.”
Beside me, Thorne chuckles. “You’ve nothing to worry about. I’m no responsibility of yours, and you’ve done quite abit more than I would ever have expected. Truly.” He glances down at me, and when his pale eyes meet mine, my heart skips a little bit.
I can’t deny he’s handsome, in a strange and otherworldly sort of way. With his white hair and silver eyes, I almost wonder if the storm deposited him here, made purely of cloud and snow. I’m not sure I’d be very surprised. He looked like an icicle when first he arrived, dripping slush and snow all over the foyer.
“What are you hoping to learn?” I ask as we step out of the sun and into the shadows of the trees. “About the fog, I mean.”
His face changes then, expression morphing as his eyes narrow and his gaze shifts to the distant trees beyond. “I’m not sure, to be honest. Hopefully something. Anything.”
He offers nothing more, and we lapse into silence. I glance down at Harrison, and he meets my eyes but says nothing.
Our pace is slow; each step is a struggle, and despite me wearing tall boots, my knit stockings are already getting wet from me sinking knee-deep into the snow with every other step. I hit an icy patch, and before I can get my bearings, my foot slides out from under me. My body jerks, and I flinch as my arms whirl uselessly.
Then there’s a firm grip on my arm, the pressure so sure and unyielding that I’m certain Faolan has caught up to us. But when I find my balance and turn, it’s still just Thorne, his hand wrapped around my arm. I glance down, then back up at him, confused.
He’s . . .strong. Incredibly strong. Like,shifter strong.
“Sorry,” he says suddenly, extracting his long fingers from about my upper arm. “Are you all right?”
“F-fine,” I say, a touch of embarrassment coloring my tone. “Thank you.”
He nods once, eyes sweeping over me as if to assess for any damage. Then he continues on his way, perhaps struggling less than I am even though he has to use a cane.
We walk for a short distance. The fog becomes visible through the trees, lingering like a specter, moving but never dispersing. It hangs in the air, unchanged.
“Don’t step into it,” Thorne says. When he tosses a glance over his shoulder at me, he’s smiling. “I’d hate for you to have to traipse all the way back here.” His gaze flicks to the hem of my dress, which is already soaked and covered in snow. His smile is small, then vanishes when he returns his focus to the wall of gray in front of us. “What do you feel?” he asks me. He presses his cane into the snow in front of him and leans both hands on it, head tipping to one side. “When you touch it, I mean.”
My heart is beating a little faster now, though I’m not sure if it’s from the hike, the fog, or...
Or Thorne himself.
Being out here with him, alone, in the trees, I’m seeing him in a different light. The angles of his face, the way his long arms and legs remind me of ancient willow branches—it’s like he’s meant to be out here, in the woods. Maybe just as much as Faolan is, and yet they’re so very different.
I steal my gaze away from him and take a tentative step closer to the fog. It doesn’t reach for me, doesn’t try to sweepme into its gray void. When my fingers brush through it, I’m shocked by the frigid touch.
“It’s cold,” I say. “Almost... unnaturally so. And it has an energy to it.” Closing my eyes, I focus and home in on the trembling energy buzzing through my fingertips. “Like it’s alive. Pulsing. Breathing.”
My eyes open. Thorne is staring at me. I announce with certainty, “It’s magic, but I don’t know why it’s here or where it’s from.”
Thorne reaches up and rubs a lock of hair between his fingers. His smooth forehead furrows. Then he says softly, “I might.”
Chapter 19
Thorne
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN?” AURORA trails behind me, slightly out of breath. I’m not quite sure where Harrison went; I think he detected a scent and wandered off into the woods to track it down. I’m trying to slow my pace for her, but Ineedto return to the portal, to see for myself if this has anything to do with my arrival here.
Though I don’t know these lands, the portal—its magic—calls to me. There’s a light humming in the air, like an echo, or a whisper. It’s soft and twinkling, and as I draw nearer to the source, it grows louder.
As do the voices of distress.
They sound like a hive of buzzing bees. I can’t pick out any one with clarity, yet they’re all distinct in their own way, and they all swarm together, growing louder the closer I get to the hollow.
I should’ve come sooner. I didn’t know . . .
