They need a witch to take care of a magickal problem, but my presence still makes little sense. Helping him could have been their boon. Mom could have tried to help him. Mom, who’s a much stronger witch than I am—and a freaking High Priestess, able to call upon a coven’s worth of power.
Finally tearing my eyes away from the wolf, I twist to the three of them. “Explain.”
“Not here.” The female shifter pleads. “This isn’t the place.”
As Ryder goes to respond, the wolf in the bed coughs, the noise calling the shadows clinging to the walls even closer.
I approach too. There’s a scuffle behind me, but another growl ends it quickly. I don’t peek to see what’s happening, keeping all my attention on the wolf who needs more than I can provide.
Mom’s mentioned the Alpha—Alaric, if I recall—before. The relationship between High Priestess and Alpha is naturally tense. But she’s complimented him too, claiming he’s always been kind and respectful.
“He wasn’t breathing like this before the magick?” I ask the trio.
“No,” the woman replies.
Having no experience with black magick myself, I’d be better off getting Mom, or even trying to contact Harlow. Neither are options, and leaving him in pain is cruel.
When Alaric coughs again and whimpers, I shut my eyes, ready to damn myself for no reason but an old man’s pain. Water slips through my mind, refreshing and cool, and washing away all thoughts and concerns until only peace lingers.
It’s that image, that feeling, I send into him. The light spray of water accompanied with a painkilling spell forces the Dark constraints to loosen ever so slightly. His next exhale isn’t as rough and the lines around his eyes smooth a bit. If I were able to go home, I’d be able to brew him something stronger, but the spell will have to do.
The shifter’s hand twitches and his dry and cracked lips part. “Thank…you.”
Ryder’s heavy steps cross the room before he appears beside me, a storm of torment. His hands are clenched as he glances between me and his father, but it’s the old Alpha’s hand managing to lift a half inch that has him backing down.
The two other shifters take our places as Ryder leads me outside.
Eleven
RYDER
She helped him.
Carina defied everything we’ve been told to believe about witches by using her powers, which—fuck you, Freya—shouldn’t be back yet. When Carina could have continued concealing them for that escape plan she’s undoubtedly brewing in that pretty little head of hers, she outed herselffor Dad.
That…hurts. Hurts like the winter winds crashing against my face. It stings, numbs my cheeks, and leaves me breathless because I don’t really know what to think about it.
Carina follows me around to the same place Marissa and I talked last night. She’s bristling with energy, both of us bursting with demands for answers the other has. It didn’t take long to realize she understands exactly what we’re up against.
Swinging to a stop with my back to a tree, I ignore how my insides long to wipe the horror from her expression. “When did you get your magick back?” Before everything else, I want to know what level of death I’ll be exacting on Freya for lying.
“Shortly after waking.”
“Why didn’t you use them free yourself?”
“As I told Mom, I truly wanted to know why you made me your Treaty Day request.” She glances at Dad’s cabin. Questions hover on the tip of her tongue, but I’m not finished asking mine.
“What did you do to him?”
“The spell is nothing close to a cure, but it’ll ease his discomfort for a few hours. I can do it again later, if he wants.”
Another strike. She’s not even gambling his comfort with her freedom; just offering by way of kindness.
She’s the coven’s heir. A leader at heart. It’s evident in Carina’s demeanour she’s meant to lead.
With us,my wolf growls.
Reminded by the inescapable fact, I glance upwards to the morning sky scattered with clouds. The High Priestess’s daughter and the Alpha’s son.Clever, fate.
