Gale suggested The Healing Cauldron even though his daughter, Sorrell, and granddaughters are Hearth Witches themselves.
He doesn’t talk about them much, other than when he took Sybil and me to lunch so we could get an idea of the town. We learned that the Connor witches own a small tea shop that focuses on mental health remedies and elixirs. He was clearly proud of the family’s legacy, even though he said tensions are high amongst his family.
At this point in my exhaustion, the sunlight is burning my eyes, and I forgot my sunglasses back at the library. So, most of the walk has been spent squinting down at my feet.
It’s a small reprieve when I leave the harsh natural light and enter the soft, low light of the storefront.
Usually when I’m less exhausted, I’d be more aware of the tingling sense of awareness that sparks in my blood as I open the door and take a step in. Yet, even with my magic dimmed by fatigue, my gaze instantly finds her once I look up.
The entire world around us could come crashing down in this exact moment, and I would be none the wiser.
Because for the first time, I’m seeingher—the woman in my dreams.
I’ve spent many lonely and desperate nights wondering what she would look like. She’s tall with a slim, lithe body, and that she has silverblonde hair with a pale complexion. But everything else is a brand new sight.
Her sharp, onyx eyes give away her surprise at seeing me. The perfect bow of her full lips are open in surprise, and a soft pink blush paints her cheeks.
She turns toward the older witch who must own the shop, and speaks too quietly for me to hear. The older woman pushes something into her hands and she turns toward the door—toward me.
Before she can get any further, the shop owner grabs her arm and pushes the product back into her palm. There’s a rushed interaction between them, but all I can focus on isher.
The woman in my dreams is here, almost within reach for the first time.
She’s sweeping past me before I’ve gathered my bearings, and she’s out the door. Only the memory of her silky strands flying in the wind behind her and the lingering scent of sweet florals with a hint of woodsy, herbal tea call to all my senses. Like a bloodhound on a scent, I have to follow her.
“I’m sorry,” I quickly say to the shop owner. “I’ll be right back.”
Before she can respond, I turn around and follow the woman around the corner. I don’t run, not wanting to spook her or gain any more attention, but I don’t need to. Not when my magic will lead me right to her.
She’s not very fast, so I catch the sharp left turn she makes and slowly walk up to her. I intentionally kick a few pebbles on the way so she hears me move closer.
Now, with only a foot between us, I let myself take in the sight of her again.
She’s catching her breath and closing her eyes tight. Up close like this, I can see the faint freckles that spread across her cheeks and nose. They aren’t noticeable from a distance, like they’re a secret she keeps to herself and those close to her.
Not that I would be considered in that category—but at the same time, how couldn’t I be?
There’s a familiarity between us. Even now, she’s anxious, but not scared.
Letting the tendrils of my magic reach forward, anticipation runs through my veins.
I’m partly in shock, but mostly, the only thing I feel is infatuation with the beautiful woman in front of me.
There are so many things I want to say to her. Thousands of questions to ask.
Is she as called to me as I am to her?
How many days did she spend imagining what this moment would be like?
Why is she always so sad, even now?
Taking a deep breath, the only thing that comes out in a gravelly tone is, “It’s you.”
It’s simultaneously the lamest thing I could say at this moment, and the only thing that feels appropriate.
She slowly opens her eyes, and the redness from holding back her tears adds a soft glint to her onyx eyes. She tilts her head and responds in a small, breathy voice, “Hi, Archer.”
I flinch, having to take a step to balance myself. It’s a punch to the heart to find out she knows my name. It cuts deep for some reason, realizing she has some semblance of a clue who I am, but didn’t want to fill me in.
