‘No,’ I said, looking down at the ground. ‘They did not.’
‘Do you think they will?’
‘I don’t know. I hope so.’
I looked up, forcing myself to meet her gaze. Somewhere in the distance I was sure I heard a foreboding rumble. Even without a weather event, the look on her face was thunderous.
‘Because I swore to both your parents I would protect you,and I will,’ she said. ‘But not at the cost of my own children’s lives.’
Stunned, I stared back, open-mouthed, as a light, welcome breeze swept the clouds from the sky and it seemed as though all of Savannah gave a sigh of relief.
‘Your wallet.’
Lydia appeared out of nowhere, dropping a quilted leather wallet on the wooden tabletop, and I almost jumped out of my seat.
‘Oh man, half the ice is already melted in my coffee,’ she groaned, stirring up the latte with a paper straw. ‘I knew I shouldn’t have gone.’
‘Thank you. We’ll get you another,’ her mother said.
Lydia fell into her chair then leaned forward to take a taste.
‘No need, it’s still good.’
She looked from me to her mom then back again, brown eyes bright and beaming. ‘Catch me up, what did I miss?’
‘Nothing,’ I replied, matching her expression as best I could although, underneath the table, my hands were shaking.
‘The usual getting-to-know-you stuff,’ Alex agreed. ‘Emily and I were getting acquainted.’
Oblivious to the tension between us, Lydia beamed at the pair of us.
‘This is cool, right?’ she said, folding her legs up underneath her. ‘The three of us hanging out together at last?’
‘So cool,’ I agreed weakly.
‘I almost feel as though your mom and dad are with us,’ Alex said, never once taking her eyes off me. ‘Watching over everything you do.’
Lydia grinned, as though it were a reassuring thing to say, but all I heard was a threat.
Chapter Eighteen
Finding Wyn in the back garden of Bell House felt like winning a prize after surviving lunch. Thankfully I didn’t spill anything, break anything or cause a tornado, so I chalked it up as a success, even if I left with more questions than answers.
‘You’re back,’ he said, his face lighting up with delight when I swept through the garden and fell right into his arms. ‘Ashley told me you’d run away to join the circus.’
‘I considered it,’ I replied, before raising my lips to his, happy to forget the last hour and lose myself in his kiss.
Anyone walking past Bell House could see what a grand old home she was but few got to share the beauty of the back garden. High walls had been built to keep our magic in and the world out, flowering vines and climbing roses covering the tabby walls then wending their way around the branches of the trees and scenting the air with jasmine and honeysuckle. In the centre of it all was a small square koi pond, dotted with water lilies and home to a school of happy fish, and every other available inch of space was covered with flowers, shrubs, herbs, bushes – anything that could be planted in the ground, lived and thrived in our garden.
Before I arrived, Ashley took care of things, giving it any extra attention it needed, but I knew the plants could take care of themselves. They sang out whenever I passed by, waving to me when I walked by a window, willing me to come outside and be with them. As a natural apothecary, I was never happier than when I was surrounded by the natural world, and so I drew on the strength of some of the most useful herbs as I pulled away from Wyn, borage and yarrow for confidence, spearmint for clarity and wood betony to help me concentrate and not get sidetracked by the freckles on the bridge of his nose or the powerful muscles that stretched out his T-shirt in a way they hadn’t before. There were things we needed to discuss and that wasn’t going to happen when I could feel his heartbeat right beside my own. He reached over and unclipped my hair, letting the red waves fall around my shoulders. I moved to straighten them but he caught my hand in his, staring at me starry-eyed.
‘Leave it,’ he murmured, winding a random strand around his finger. The tension as he pulled it lightly triggered tingles up and down my body, sweeter than the tell of my magic.
‘We need to talk.’
Before Wyn, my romantic experience was literally zero, but still I knew these were unpopular words.
‘I don’t love the very serious look on your face right now,’ he said, releasing my hair. A shaft of late afternoon sunlight sliced through the branches of a sycamore tree, separating us with an intangible shot of gold. It was still too much of a barrier.
