She inspected it carefully as Roan climbed down the ladder. His grandmother had clearly been an expert craftsman, and aside from the tear, it was in excellent shape.
“What caused the tear?” Abigail asked as Roan took the tapestry from her and carried it over to the bar, where she perched on a bar stool and reached for her needle and thread.
“There was a brawl,” Roan said, disgust lacing the words.
“Who started it?” Abigail asked.
“It was before you came,” he said, “and I never let the instigators come back. That was the first brawl Beastie broke up. She was so young then, and she did an incredible job. And ever since then, I let her handle any issues as they start to come up. You know everyone has a healthy fear of her now.” He grinned. “That’s why. In order to get the first instigator off the second, she grabbed his arm with her mouth to pull him away.”
Abigail grimaced at the thought of those huge jaws locking down around her arm.
“She did it gently,” Roan said, his pride evident as he began wiping down the counter, though it hardly needed it. “But I’m sure you can imagine.”
Abigail let out a grunt. “I wouldn’t want to be him.”
“Me neither,” Roan said. “So you can see why he isn’t coming back. Not that I would allow him to, even if he wanted to.”
Abigail found the thread that matched the deep green the best before inspecting the tear once more to ascertain where she should start. She placed the needle at the edge of the tapestry and tested carefully to see if she could push it through, but the needle slipped through and pricked her finger.
“Ouch,” she said, shaking her hand before bringing her finger to her mouth to suck on the prick.
“What’s wrong?” Roan asked, dropping the pitcher he had been moving and hurrying to her side.
Abigail inspected her finger, watching as a tiny dot of blood welled up. “I just pricked myself. I don’t think I got any blood on the tapestry.”
Roan took her hand in his, inspecting it for a moment, before leaning forward and placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “I’m not worried about the tapestry. I care more about you.”
At his words, a beam of light began to show from her finger.
Abigail’s eyes widened.
Was this the end of the curse?
Chapter thirteen
Roan
Roanstaredatthebeam of light coming from the blood on Abigail’s finger and his eyes widened at the implication.
Was…was this really happening?
Was that it?
Had they really broken the curse after everything?
How had Abigail pricking her finger broken the curse?
There had to be something else.
He thought back to the moment the man had pointed the wand at him, and the light had poured out of it. There was no other reason for light to appear like that, and he’d said that when Roan could care for something more than he cared for his tavern…
Roan blinked. He’d told Abigail that he didn’t care about the tapestry.
“We did it,” he breathed. “That was the curse. I had to care about something more than my tavern. And I care about you.”
Abigail’s breath caught, and he looked down at her, his lips curving up into a smile.
“You were right,” he said. “We did figure it out.”
