I laugh easily. “I’m ready, if you promise to help me read through these after.”
“I’d help even if you didn’t want to talk about it,” she says and leans forward, grabbing the top two books from my pile.
“Fair enough,” I agree. “I guess I should start at the beginning.”
Her encouraging nods quickly morph into a confused flinch when I add, “Eleven years ago.”
Chapter 27
Renata
Three weeks have passed since Archer showed up to the inn. It was the last time I saw him while awake. He continues to find me in our dreams, but the space has lost some of its comfort recently.
I’d rather spend time with him awake, knowing he’s not far from me at any given time now. I can’t bring myself to admit that—especially to him.
We haven’t let that stop us from being together nearly every night since—and I appreciate him finding me there rather than coming back to the inn. I tell myself that’s the only reason I don’t take any sleep elixirs or avoid sleep.
Despite his arguments the first two times we saw each other since accessing our memories together, he hasn’t pushed the topic. That almost worries me more, leaving me annoyed with myself and wondering if he’s pulling away.
Heshouldbe creating distance from me, as much as he physically can. Because the more I re-read Petra’s journal, my only theory is becoming more solidified by the written words.
Petra’s feelings on the two men are confusing without any previous history. It’s clear she cared deeply for both of them, but she’s vague when it comes to whatever short-lived relationship she had with Barrett.
Her entire life was dedicated to Nestor and the inn she inherited from her mother. She muses about the years when they were lively and hopeful. Two young witches who just met, planning a life together—even promising to perform the Soul Tie Bond together, but never fulfilling that wish.
Petra never goes on to explain what happened, but she reminisces about the challenging time of Nestor’s return, and him meeting their young child for the first time.
The journal I have was written two months after his return, and it covers Petra’s life up to a few weeks before the curse.
What happened when Nestor returned? And where did he go?
It’s raising new questions now, not answering a single one that the coven and I have.
“No curse talk,” Rowyn scolds me and snaps a finger in my face. Her smile is warm and teasing, back to normal since the day Archer came to the inn.
Blinking, I pull myself out of my thoughts and take in the four faces in our unfamiliar setting. Rowyn’s grandfather Gale invited all of us over for his birthday dinner.
Rowyn was the only coven member not surprised, but Gale has been great. Given my reluctance to visit his library, I wouldn’t have rejected his offer—especially when he is important to Rowyn.
I wondered if we would see Rowyn’s mother tonight, but she admits it’s easier to see her than try getting her out of the house. Sorrel hasn’t recovered from losing her husband a few years ago, and the death of her mother only sent her further into depression.
By then, Rowyn’s sister, Ember, took over the small tea shop and the Connors hadn’t been part of a coven since the inn opened. It sounds like Sorrell began to emotionally fade away when there weren’t any distractions, despite her soul being firmly placed in this realm of existence.
Ember mostly cares for Sorrell now, and it’s the only time I’ve heard Rowyn willingly talk about her.
“I’m not talking about the curse,” I remark. “You are.”
“You’re thinking about it,”Clover chimes in.
She reaches her fingers out sneakily, trying to scoop up some icing. With an inch of space between her and the sugary topping, Rowyn swats a wooden spoon at her arm.
For a second, my body tenses and my smile is stiffly plastered in place. The loud whack I’m dreading never comes. Instead, a light thump reverberates off Clover’s forearm. With a quiet sigh, I loosen my muscles and remind myself who I’m with—and who I left behind at the end of winter.
As Clover cradles her arm toward her chest, there’s a giddy smile as she dramatically whines, “Ow, don’t hit me!”
Rowyn rolls her eyes. “That was barely a love tap, but keep your grubby hands away from my ingredients.”
It’s not surprising finding Rowyn in the kitchen, even with the dinner being hosted by Gale.
