Page 22 of Whisker me Away
Walking back to his apartment felt like the longest journey of his life, made worse by the knowledge that somewhere in the darkness, both the Thornweaver and his mate were slipping further away from him.
But unlike the ancient evil threatening their town, Freya was a fight he had a chance of winning.
He just had to figure out how.
13
FREYA
Two days had passed since the kiss, and Freya's lips still tingled every time she thought about it. Which was constantly. She pressed her fingers to her mouth while grinding dried chamomile, trying to erase the memory of Kieran's warmth.
"You're thinking about him again," Maizy said from her perch on the apothecary's counter, her pointed ears twitching with amusement. "Your magic gets all sparkly when you do."
"I'm not thinking about anyone." Freya focused harder on the chamomile, but her magic flared anyway, making the dried flowers shimmer with residual energy. "I'm working."
"Uh-huh." Maizy hopped down and moved to the research table where ancient texts lay open, their pages covered in her grandmother's careful translations. "So that's why you've been hiding in here making healing potions like the world's ending?"
Because it might be. Freya had spent the last couple of days avoiding Kieran's searching looks around town while desperately researching the Thornweaver. Every text they'd found painted the same terrifying picture: a corrupted dryadof immense power, bound by blood magic that required the ultimate sacrifice.
"Look at this passage again," Freya said, pointing to her grandmother's journal. "Celeste didn't just use her magic to bind the Thornweaver. She used her life force. Her actual essence."
Maizy leaned over the text, her face growing pale as she read. "Oh, goddess. She died to create the binding?"
"According to this, yes." Freya's hands trembled as she turned the page. "The spell required someone of the bloodline to willingly sacrifice themselves, channeling their life energy into the binding to make it permanent."
"But surely there's another way. Your grandmother lived for decades after learning about this."
"Because the binding held." Freya moved to her workbench where glass bottles of healing tinctures waited to be labeled. Three more cases of magical poisoning had been reported since yesterday, all connected to the spreading corruption. "The question is, what happens when it breaks completely?"
Maizy was quiet while Freya finished labeling bottles, her movements precise despite the fear gnawing at her stomach. Every morning brought new reports of plant deaths, of the corruption spreading further into Hollow Oak's magical ecosystem. At this rate, they had maybe a week before the Thornweaver broke free entirely.
"There has to be something else," Maizy said finally. "Some detail we're missing. Your ancestor was brilliant, but she wouldn't have condemned her entire bloodline to death."
"Unless she didn't have a choice." Freya sealed the last bottle and set it aside. "Sometimes the only way to protect what you love is to sacrifice yourself."
"That's noble and stupid." Maizy's fae heritage showed in the sharp edge to her voice. "You can't save anyone if you're dead, Freya."
Just then, the door opened. She looked up expecting to see another customer needing remedies for corruption exposure, but instead found Kieran filling the doorway. Her heart did something complicated in her chest, equal parts excitement and terror.
He looked tired, she realized. His usual confident demeanor was still there, but shadows under his eyes suggested he'd been sleeping as poorly as she had. His work shirt clung to his broad shoulders, and she caught the scent that made her magic respond with interest.
"Ladies," he said with low authority that made people sit up and pay attention. "Any luck with the research?"
"Some." Freya forced herself to sound professional while her body hummed with awareness of his presence. "We've confirmed the Thornweaver's origins and the nature of the original binding."
"And?"
Maizy glanced between them, her pointed ears practically twitching with curiosity. "I should go check on Twyla. She mentioned wanting help with inventory today."
"You don't have to leave," Freya started, but Maizy was already heading for the door.
"Actually, I do. Cousin or not, when Twyla says jump, we ask how high." She paused at the threshold. "Play nice, you two. And maybe try talking about something other than ancient evil for five minutes."
The door closed behind her with a decisive click, leaving Freya alone with Kieran and two days' worth of unresolved tension. The silence stretched between them, charged with memory of the kiss and everything they hadn't said since.
"So," Kieran said finally, moving closer to the research table. "What did you find?"
Freya kept her distance, using the workbench as a barrier between them. "The Thornweaver was bound in 1847 by my ancestor Celeste Bloom. The spell required her to sacrifice her life force to power the binding."
