“I swear…it had hair…the nails grew…it was painful.”
Amcaster and Cassian shared a look.
“Let’s get back to Nightshade Manor so you can sleep this off.”
He had never hallucinated after drinking before. Had the barkeep served them more than ale?
Philip watched his hand the remainder of the ride back to the stables, but it never changed, nor did he suffer another twinge.
“Shall we return to the vault today?” Petra asked as they were breaking their fast.
“Yes,” Antonia answered without hesitation. She’d not even read a quarter of the journals on her side of the aisle, and she could not wait to explore more.
Each item had been a fascination, which was why it was taking her so long. Antonia could not help but read everything, even when she knew that it wasn’t something that could assist her.
She was also torn. She needed a veiling spell so that she could be in crowds, but she also hoped that Lord Chedworth asked her to walk with him again, which he might not do if she is hidden away in the vault.
Then again, he may not wish to further their acquaintance beyond yesterday and what they’ve already shared.
Oh, if only…
Antonia knew better than to wish for what was likely impossible. She’d been smitten with Lord Chedworth in London and a part of her warned that it was only because he was the one person who brought her peace and nothing more. But he was also handsome with his straight blond hair, worn longer than any gentleman of the ton, and she wondered if it was a rebellion or simply his preference. Lord Chedworth also had the kindest and most often mischievous cobalt eyes. He was a handsome gentleman indeed.
“Do you think there is anything in the vault to help Antonia?” Samantha asked.
“If it is not there, I do not know where else we could look or who we could ask,” Maia said.
“What of your mother, Petra?” Samantha suggested as Lady Wharton entered the breakfast room.
“If I knew of a veiling spell or potion, I would have provided it,” Lady Wharton answered with a smile. “I also will assist if you ask.”
Antonia frowned. Did Lady Wharton know why they were looking for such a spell? Petra and Maia had promised not to tell anyone. Though, as Lady Wharton was an experienced witch, perhaps they should seek her guidance.
Their hostess filled a cup of tea and settled at the table and smiled at Antonia. “Your mother explained your difficulties, Antonia, so I assume that is why you are here with your friends.”
Why would her mother betray a confidence? Unless she had to explain to Lady Wharton why Antonia wished for a visit long after the other guests who had attended the ball had left.
“My sisters-in-law know of no veiling spell either nor had it ever occurred to us to create one.” She frowned. “Perhaps our coven can discuss it next time we meet.” She then smiled. “I have my coven, mostly family members and the four of you are now creating your own.”
They were friends, and had been, but Antonia had not considered them a coven.
“You have come to rely on each other, to trust each other. In that friendship is your strength. A witch is strong, but a coven is stronger, especially when the witches have different gifts.”
Petra, Maia, and Samantha had active gifts, but Antonia’s was useless in helping anyone unless she could remove the noise.
“Sometimes a situation does require witches from several generations, but we do not know yet if that will be necessary for Antonia,” Lady Wharton added.
“I always thought a coven was larger,” Antonia said.
“Not always, and sometimes smaller covens are better because they have trust. When there are too many in a coven, you risk two different witches wanting to lead and clashing. When that happens, when spells need to be completed, they sometimes go wrong, or intentions may differ. Your friendship is already a well-balanced coven.”
Antonia smiled. She liked being in a coven.
Except, her enthusiasm dulled as Lord Chedworth entered the breakfast room. His aura, normally orange, had shifted to grey, the color of depression or low energy and sadness. She did not think he was depressed, but he did look tired, and worried. The bright yellow had darkened also. Had he come under stress since she last saw him? Further, the pink from yesterday was gone, and replaced with a murky white—the color of uncertainty and fear. Antonia was used to seeing auras change in others, but never so drastically…unless a loved one suffered a sudden death, or equally distressing news. Except, if that were the case, Lady Wharton, Petra or Maia would have said something.
So, what had caused such a shift?
“Is all well, Lord Chedworth?” she found herself asking.
