Frowning, Semras went to grab the small brown glass. A mix of raspberry leaves, stinging nettle, and red clover floated within its clear liquid.
Her face burned with mortification.
“What is this?” Estevan asked behind her shoulder. He retrieved his insignia, then picked up the paper and read it out loud. “‘For my new daughter-in-law. Do not make me wait for too long.’Hmm? I do not understand.”
“I do …” Semras said in a small voice. “These … these are fertility herbs … She heard us. Old Crone take me; sheheard us.”
Estevan picked up the bottle from her hand and slipped it into a pocket. She glared at him, and he cocked his eyebrow. “What? I made you a promise. This might be useful once we plan to fulfill it.”
“You’re an idiot,” Semras said through gritted teeth, face flushing even more, “and I am never setting foot in this place ever again. In fact, I am leaving the Yore Coven. No, that won’t be enough. I am leaving for the Continent. I can create a new identity there and spend the rest of my life lying awake at night thinking about this.”
Laughing, he embraced her from behind. “Wherever you wish to go, I shall follow.”
In spite of herself, Semras smiled.
With Estevan by her side, maybe she could survive this embarrassment.
Bysomemiracle,theymanaged to sneak back to camp unnoticed.
Slumped against a tree in an awkward half-sitting position, Themas was still deeply asleep when they tied their horses to a tree. Only the cold embers of the campfire could have given away their long absence.
Semras wove the fire back to life with open delight, then rolled into her bedroll for what little time remained before dawn. The blanket had grown cold and uncomfortable by now, and she shivered beneath it. She missed Estevan’s warm arms already. Still, she let out a content sigh; their little stroll and all that followed it would blissfully remain private now.
Her relief lasted until she woke one hour later with the rising sun.
“What happened to the gloves?” Themas asked, passing her a rudimentary breakfast around the fire.
Semras took it with a nod, then looked down at her hands, frowning. Where had she left them? “Um … I didn’t need them anymore. My hands are fine now. The inquisitor, he … he fulfilled a promise he made to me. So everything is settled now.”
“A promise?” The knight glanced at Estevan, still a few feet away and busy caring for Pagan, before scooting closer to her. “Does that have anything to do with the witch he was looking for last night?” he asked, voice low.
“Oh, um. A little? It’s … I was mistaken. It was just a misunderstanding.” She looked away, trying to find a plausible excuse. She couldn’t exactly tell the knight about herWyrdtwined’s secret after all. “Estevan found someone to heal me. That’s all he wanted to do last night.”
Themas narrowed his eyes. She couldn’t tell if her lie had convinced him or not, but he thankfully didn’t push the subject. “Back to calling him ‘Estevan’ now? I should have expected it, considering the … the state of your skin this morning.” His hazel eyes dropped to her neck.
“The … the what?”
Themas drew his sword from its scabbard, then presented its surface to her. On the shiny, untarnished blade, Semras saw her reflection.
Love bruises and bite marks generously covered the length of her neck. ‘Mine,’ Estevan had said when she asked him about how she looked.
The bastard.
“Areyoustillmad?”Estevan asked, sitting behind her on the saddle.
Pagan trotted up the road leading to the gates of Castereina. Behind them, Themas rode his gelding, carefully navigating through the walking crowds surrounding them.
The knight had remained uncharacteristically silent ever since they had left the Vedwoods. He barely looked at them both, preferring instead to tend to his horse or keep his gaze trailed on the road ahead.
Too embarrassed by her neck’s condition, Semras hadn’t tried talking to him either, and neither had Estevan beyond a few orders here and there. Even if there had been no underlying tension between the three of them, her Wyrdtwined would still have been too distracted to talk—he was far too busy sending her adoring smiles whenever he thought she wouldn’t notice.
His wandering hands were a little more difficult to pretend to ignore. One of them sneaked down her thigh and slipped beneath her dress to caress her leg.
She batted it away.
“I shall take that as a yes, then,” Estevan said, sighing.
Riding aside on Pagan, Semras glared at him. “You should have told me about the marks.”
