Renata
The following morning, I take a deep breath before pushing through the kitchen door.
I woke up more rested than I have ever been in my life, but that quickly dissolved when I turned over and saw the bed was empty. Not even Hexate was back from her morning hunt. They’ve been lasting longer since she started going with Whisper. I think most of our familiars go together.
The dread and anxiety quickly crept in.
Archer was gone before the sun rose, leaving the journals haphazardly scattered along the bed. Maybe he changed his mind. I couldn’t blame him—I just figured if one of us ran, it would be me. He’s always more steadfast than I could hope to be.
I stop in my tracks when I find not only Rowyn, already kneading a loaf of blueberry lemon bread, but Esme sitting on the counter with a fresh mug of coffee in her hands.
“What are you doing up?” I ask Esme as I drop onto the island stool.
“Couldn’t sleep,” she says with mischief in her eyes. “A disgruntled ghost was pacing around my room all night. Would you know anything about that?”
Nestor.
My brows scrunch. He hasn’t been around much, but I never imagined he would be following the other witches around while avoiding Archer and me.
It makes sense now—even if we aren’t the same people, he still has to watch his wife and best friend together.
“Nope,” I answer. “Nothing.”
She hums, but her eyes scream suspicion. “What areyoudoing up?”
“I’m always awake before you,” I refute and give Rowyn a grateful nod when she holds the kettle up in question.
“Not this early,” the sweet red-headed traitor finally chimes in.
“Late night?” Esme asks with faux sympathy. I glare at her.
How does she know these things?Even with her magic, it’s like she can read my mind when it comes to Archer.
“If it was, I would still be asleep,” I tell her. My flushed cheeks betray me.
She throws her head back, laughing. “Liar.”
Rowyn watches us before realization dawns on her. “You and Archer—oh!”
“Oh my Gods,” I mutter and drop my face in my hands. Not ready to see their reactions, I ask, “Can you make me the day after elixir?”
It comes out mumbled behind my hands, but they understand from the hoot of excitement that Esme lets out.
“You little slut,” she teases and grabs the hand towel to swat at me. Laughing, I rip it from her hold and flick it back in her direction. “Has anyone ever given you the safe sex talk?”
Rowyn agrees with Esme, making me scoff in offense.
“I will make the elixir for you—as well as the daily contraceptive tonic,” she adds with a sharp look. “But Esme is right.”
“I have safe sex all the time,” I say. When I catch Esme’s eye, we both laugh and the earlier dread fades away. “I do sound like a slut.”
“Pro-slut around here,” Esme says with a fist in the air. “Right, Rowyn?” She throws me a playful expression, not seeming surprised by Rowyn’s reaction.
She clears her throat and nods, avoiding our eyes. Esme arches a brow at me but I’m not sure what she’s thinking.
“So,” Esme says and turns back to me. “What does this mean?”
Rowyn looks up from the mortar of herbs she’s grinding together. “Good question.”
