Page 109 of A Spell for Midwinter's Heart
The “I’m sorry” was so soft as to almost be inaudible to anyone but Gavin, who was, in the end, the only person who really needed to hear it.
“I know, Dad,” came the reply.
It was so intimate and tender that Rowan turned away. She looked at the stairwell and, realizing she was no longer needed, took the steps down two at a time.
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As Rowan pressed her way into the crowd, her mother appeared in the window overhead. Liliana gave a big thumbs-up, and the demonstrators burst into an ecstatic celebration. All throughout the festival grounds, firepits erupted into flames simultaneously. Music pounded, and the massive lanterns floated overhead, bobbing with the rhythm. Stephan led in a pack of volunteers, their arms laden with cases of beer, cider, and wine—his “life of the party” persona out in full effect.
“Happy freaking New Year!” he shouted, raising his arms to a chorus of cheers.
It was officially a party: a party to ring in the New Year and, with any luck, a new era for Elk Ridge.
The Goshen Group representatives fled the building in a scramble, trying to force a path through a crowd that would not acknowledge them or bend to their will. Hayleigh was at their tail, staggering along in defeat. She looked around with an expression of pure disbelief, and it slowly melted into something else—fear.
Fear only of consequences? Or was there any chance it was fear she’d been wrong?
Rowan almost felt sorry for her—this woman who had been trotted along at the head of these men like a genteel mascot—but remembering the harm she’d been trying to do, saved her compassion.
It didn’t take Rowan long to reach the trail home. In the muffled dark of the snowy wood, she was left to bask in the feeling of leading the crowd. Their chanting had raised power, and that power had been enough to forge a path to a different future. Better or worse, they’d never know—but it would be their own.
She had just reached the copse of skinny, limbless trees when a voice called her name.
“Rowan!”
Heart in her throat, she turned. Gavin closed the distance between them: suit askance, hair mussed, eyes wide and open.
For a moment, they only looked at one another.
“We did it,” he said finally.
“We did…” She glanced away briefly. “You were brilliant back there. You told him what he needed to hear.”
“It was a start.” His eyes dropped to the ground. “Rowan, look, I—”
“Please, let me go first. There are some things I finally feel strong enough to say, but who knows when I might lose my nerve.”
“Go ahead,” he said, looking back up again to meet her eyes with his own.
“I’m flying out tonight.” He opened his mouth in protest, but she pushed on. No more interruptions, no more delays—these words needed to be spoken and heard.
“I want to explain some things to you. About me. About my magic.” She swallowed, trying to find the right words to explain the unexplainable. “Magic can’t be understood like weights and measures, but we know some things. Like the rule of three—all theenergy we put out comes back to us threefold. And the Rede—do no harm. The rest…It’s messy and complicated, and every day we’re just trying to do the best we can with the information we have. Just like everyone. But I couldn’t handle that. I couldn’t handle that I might do the wrong thing, that I might become someone who abused that power, and so I cut myself off, andthatis when I really messed things up.
“I’m not doing that anymore. I’ll need to constantly check myself, and lean on my coven when it’s murky, but I’m not going to let the fear of doing the wrong thing keep me from doingsomething.I’ll probably mess up, but when I do, I’ll own it, and try to fix things, if I can.” She searched his face, her throat tightening. “You don’t owe me anything, not after what I took from you, but if there’s anything I can do to make this right…”
To her surprise, he let out a small laugh.
Her eyebrows knitted in confusion. “What?”
One end of his lips turned up in a familiar half smile. “You didn’t read my letter, did you?”
Her hand went to her pocket. “Not yet. I wasn’t sure if I could handle what was inside.”
“Take a look,” he urged.
She tore open the envelope, sliding a heavy sheet of creamy paper from inside. A familiar mixture of anxiety and excitement brimmed beneath her skin as she ran a finger over the lettering—so soft.
December 31
