Thinking it over, I say, “Maybe. I hope so.”
With a sigh, he waves his arm toward the back of the atrium. “Go bring some of those books up here. Let your magic lead you to the answers, Archer.”
Nodding, I turn on my heel and do my best to listen to the elderly witch, and my magic.
After a few minutes, I make my way back upstairs with five books that seem unassuming enough, but they call to my magic with every step I take away from the basement.
The Founders of Briarhollow, 1700
Herbs for Any Infliction, Infection, and Illness, 1788
The Story of an Exiled Succubus, 1798
Ancient Rituals of the Heart, 1809
Forgotten Tales of Briarhollow’s Infamous Coven, 1952
When I drop the pile on the desk, Gale tentatively grabsAncient Rituals of the Heartand flips through it, a meaningful expression tugging on his weathered features.
“Not sure if this one is a clue,” he says with amusement, “or a sign.”
Furrowing my brows, I look at him as he turns the book around and passes it to me.
Grabbing another book, he settles in his seat and lets the words of long-dead witches consume him. My eyes drop to the open book that Gale pushed toward me, and my heart stops.
The Soul Tie Bond.
Renata—as my Chosen.
The thought teases me, just out of reach of my reality.
It’s hard to daydream about what a future with Renata would look like without becoming consumed by it. Maybe we would make the Soul Tie Bond and settle down at the inn. We could restore it, travel around the world, and have a family. There are an endless amount of possibilities that make me want to throw everything else to the wind.
It passes quickly, but maybe Gale’s right—no one is ready to accept my fate yet.
If there’s a small chance I can be with Renata in this life, not whatever realm our souls travel to next, I want that.
If I can’t have that life with her, I want to guarantee our spirits will always find each other so that maybe in another timeline, we get to choose our fates together.
When the sun has fully set and the library has been closed for over an hour, I clear my throat, drawing his attention. Gale’s head tilts, and he realizes how late it is, too. In a silent agreement, we start cleaning and closing up shop for the night.
Both of us made it through a book and a half, but I plan to scour each one myself. Gale offers to help me close down the library since it was technically his shift today. I usher him out and promise I don’t mind.
My reasons are selfish, having nothing to do with wanting to make sure the older witch can get the rest he needs. Without his watchful eyes, I slip one of the grimoires into my bag, knowing Gale would have my neck for taking any of these books out of the safety of the library.
It’s well past dinner time when I get back to the inn, so I decide to make a quick stop in the kitchen before I shower and hunt down Renata. After last night, I’m not giving her excessive space anymore. It doesn’t benefit either of us, and it feels impossible now that I know what it’s like to have her pressed against me.
A soft smile blooms when I step into the kitchen and realize the savory scent drawing me closer is from a plate Rowyn left on the stove to stay warm, not the lingering fragrance of the dinner I missed. I couldn’t have picked a better coven for my sister. Despite everything else, it is impossible to carry any regret for coming to Briarhollow and getting tangled up with the gorgeous blonde witch I would willingly follow to death’s door.
Taking the plate and a glass of water upstairs, I figure I can scarf the food down before I shower and go find the temptress herself. When I open my bedroom door, I don’t expect to find her sitting on the rug, reading through another one of Petra’s journals.
My lips start to lift at the sight of her, waiting for me in her silky little nightgown. It’s short-lived elation once her eyes meet mine, and all I see is anger.
Quickly setting the plate and glass down, I slowly stride over to her and drop to my knees.
“Renata,” I murmur and brush my fingers along her cheek. “What’s wrong?”
“Youleft,” she spits out.
