It’s just me—alone with my thoughts and the knowledge that nothing truly belongs to Archer and me.
Crawling into the space Petra once was, I wrap the blanket around me like she did and don’t move until I eventually drift off to sleep.
At some point, Hexate comes back to the bed, but I wake up to her curled around my forearm. Taking my time, I stay there for a while, letting the weight of her thin body and the warm morning sun settle in my bones.
My time is limited though. Rowyn won’t let me miss two meals in a row unless I’m ill, so I gently unwrap Hexate and settle her on the nearby pillow before taking a quick shower.
After fixing my face enough to hide any lingering signs of exhaustion and my tears, I slip into one of my favorite skirts and prepare to face the day. Until I take one step out of my door and a loud yelp breaks out when my foot hits something furry.
“Whisper,” I say and crouch down to pet his side. “I’m sorry, boy. I didn’t expect to find you here.”
He lays his head back down, satisfied with the pets he’s getting, and huffs out a breath with a tilt of his nose down the hallway.
Archer.
He sent his familiar to watch over me.
It warms my brittle soul but for the millionth time, I think about how he’s the one who should be protected.
Chapter 35
Archer
From the moment I woke up, I’ve impatiently been waiting for the moment I would run into Renata.
She was awake when I went to her room last night. She wasn’t as quiet as she thought she was. It was a slim chance she would open the door twice in a row. Last night felt more important than the previous. I wanted to share with her what I found, knowing she most likely wouldn’t be ready to return to the library for some time.
As selfish as it is, I wouldn’t change the sequence of events knowing I only had the option of one of the two nights with her.
I hadn’t bothered coming home for dinner last night, too engrossed in the story ofThe Lost Hero. It’s a dramatic reimagining of Nestor’s journey. As stated in the author’s note at the beginning of the book, much of the story has been created for the sake of the novel. It was written before Nestor returned, during the time when he was assumed to be dead. Petra’s coven seemed to keep his original destination a secret because part of the story is trying to solve that riddle. It is a compelling novel, I will give the author that, however, everything has to be taken with a grain of salt.
Including the ending chosen by the author: Nestor went in search of Calista’s island to retrieve everoot, but never made it back.
When Sybil got to the library after me this morning, she mentioned that Clementine and Renata didn’t go downstairs for dinner either. Rowyn was not happy about so many of us being gone, according to my sister.
So I didn’t risk another absence. Plus, if she was upset with me, I knew the other two witches weren’t exempt, and would be present for the meal.
Since Renata sat down across from me, I’ve been trying to catch her eye. She evades it each time. All of the witches, except for Clementine, seem to pick up on the awkwardness, but don’t say anything.
Clementine talks animatedly and quickly, jumping from story to story. With each new topic, a small tug lifts Renata’s lips like she’s amused by this. It dawns on me that the young witch is not as oblivious as I previously believed. She knows exactly what she’s doing by filling in the silence before anyone—me, specifically—can get a word in.
Standing from her chair, Rowyn says, “Clementine, come help me with dessert.”
“Wait, but I was just about to tell the story of Clover’s first attempt at hexing so—”
Clover coughs, embarrassed at the untold story, and gives her sister a stern look. “Let’s not. Go help Rowyn,” she says.
“I think I’d like to hear that story,” Esme chimes in, earning a nudge from Clover while Sybil watches with quiet amusement, and Renata laughs.
It’s a light, sound she holds close to her chest. The few times I’ve experienced it have been like seeing the sun after a week long snowstorm.
“Will you go somewhere with me after dinner?” I blurt out, infatuated with the sound I wish I could lock in a jar for safe keeping.
With Rowyn and Clementine out of the room, all four of their heads turn in my direction.
Esme and Clover are seated on the other side of Sybil so I can’t see their expressions, but the excitement radiates off of them. It’s as strong as when they caught me outside of her room.
Sybil’s expression starts as surprised pride, but morphs into sisterly worry and protectiveness as Renata lets the seconds pass by in silence.
