He nodded and stood. “You did good.”
She blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What?”
“With the potion,” he clarified. “You’re good at this.”
Her cheeks flushed faintly, and she busied herself with tidying up the table. “Thanks. I guess.”
Grayson didn’t push her further. Instead, he moved to the window and glanced out at the quiet street below. His wolf stirred, restless but not urgent. For now, Bellefleur was calm. For now, she was safe.
But he knew better than to trust the calm.
“Get some rest,” he suggested over his shoulder. “You’ll need it.”
“For what?”
“For whatever’s coming,” he said simply.
He didn’t wait for her response. Instead, he left the kitchen and settled onto the too-small couch, letting the bond’s quiet hum lull him into uneasy sleep.
Chapter 9 - Cora
Cora shoved the door to Elena’s cottage open with more force than necessary, and the creak of the hinges echoed in the room. The small, ivy-covered home on the outskirts of Bellefleur had always felt like a home of sorts, but today, it was just another reminder that nothing felt right anymore. Not her magic, not her bond with Grayson, and definitely not her emotions, which were all over the place.
“Cora?” Elena’s voice drifted from the back room, warm, familiar, and tinged with mild surprise. “You’re early.”
Cora dropped her bag by the door and stalked into the cozy sitting room, where Elena was arranging bundles of herbs by the window. Elena looked every bit the mystical healer she was rumored to be. But to Cora, she was simply a friend—one of the few people who might actually understand the mess she was in.
“You said you had a solution,” Cora supplied, skipping the pleasantries. “Please tell me you’ve got something.”
Elena raised a brow, and her hands paused mid-reach for a sprig of rosemary. “Hello to you too. Tea? Maybe a moment to breathe?”
“Elena,” Cora warned.
“Fine,” Elena relented, gesturing toward the worn couch in the center of the room. “Sit. And don’t start pacing. It messes with the wards.”
Cora begrudgingly dropped onto the couch, ignoring the way the cushions sagged under her weight. “The potion didn’t work,” she explained. “It fizzled out before it even activated. I did everything right—every step, every measurement. Nothing.”
Elena leaned against the table, studying her with a knowing look. “And what did you feel when you tested it?”
“Frustration,” Cora admitted. “And maybe a little desperate.”
“That might explain it. Magic’s as much about intent as it is about ingredients. If your heart wasn’t in it, the spell wouldn’t be, either.”
Cora groaned, rubbing her temples. “My heart is exactly the problem. This bond—it’s screwing with my magic, my head, my…everything.”
Elena moved to the chair across from her and sat, folding her legs beneath her. “Start from the beginning. What happened during the test?”
Cora’s fingers knotted in her lap. “I was trying to focus. I even set up a protection circle to keep the bond from interfering, but the moment I activated the potion, it felt…wrong. Like something was fighting back.”
Elena’s brows furrowed. “Fighting back? That’s not typical for a bond-breaking spell.”
“Exactly!” Cora agreed, throwing her hands up. “I don’t know if it’s the bond or just me, but it’s like everything I try is one step forward, ten steps back.”
Elena tilted her head. “Cora, when you say it felt wrong, what exactly do you mean?”
“It’s hard to explain,” Cora admitted. “It was like…like a wall I couldn’t get through. But not just a wall. It was alive. Pulsing. It pushed me back so hard I nearly lost my balance.”
Elena leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “That doesn’t sound like standard bonding magic. Are you surethis is just a spell? Nothing else unusual about the ritual that created it?”
