Panic seized me. Why weren’t my shadows working? Why wouldn’t they take me to him?
I forced a steadying breath. Priscilla was saying something, but her words were drowned out by the thunderous pulse pounding against my eardrums.
There were only two reasons my shadows wouldn’t answer me and take me to him.
Either I had met my mate.
Or he had met his.
My hands trembled as I drew in another breath. Hunger cramped my stomach, painful enough to make me fold forward, but I locked my knees and managed to stay upright.
Either you have met your mate... or he has met his.
I lifted my gaze to Priscilla, teeth clenched, and felt...
Nothing.
Relief washed through me, hollow and edged with grief. Priscilla was brave. Clever. Kind in ways she didn’t let many see. She had put herself in danger to free me and to protect the hob. But my heart was already spoken for. There was no pull between us. No sudden, earth-shifting bond snapping into place. Which meant only one thing.
Blaise had met his mate.
Fragments of the night before slammed into me. Priscilla had compelled me to listen so I would understand what her mother planned. So I would know she was coming for a Briar Coven house.
A house with a Briar Coven witch.
A witch who had hired the man I loved.
A witch he was now bound to.
My throat tightened. My mouth went dry.
I still had to go to him. I still had to warn him. Convince him—both of them—to leave, to return to the safety of the coven before Isadora reached them.
The thought of facing his mate made my stomach churn, but that didn’t matter. Not compared to keeping him alive. I wouldn’t allow myself to shatter, not just yet, anyway.
At last, Priscilla’s words broke through the haze. She was on her knees before me, tears streaking her face. “Please,” she begged softly. “Just give me a chance. I need to know what happened to him.”
I crouched in front of her, brushing my thumb gently beneath her eye, wiping away a tear.
“I’ll go to the house,” I said quietly. “I’ll do everything I can to make them leave. And then I’ll come back. And when you have your answers,” I continued, my voice hardening, shadows stirring beneath my skin, “I’m going to tear your mother to shreds.”
Chapter 18. Caitlyn
My brewing, as it turned out, carried on well into the next day.
It wasn’t until I’d nearly slumped face-first into the cauldron that Blaise appeared beside me muttering something about stubborn witches before half carrying me upstairs and depositing me in bed.
I woke early the next morning to an empty bed.
Downstairs, I found Blaise attempting to read one of the books on magical flora in the living room. Attempting being the key word. The arm holding the book was propped on his knee, which bounced so erratically it was a wonder he could make out a single word.
I’d meant to start the conversation he’d begun the night before... the one concerning thesomeonehe’d almost told me about.
But Blaise simply ushered me into the kitchen where he’d already prepared a breakfast fit for a queen, pointed out the sandwich he’d left for lunch in the fridge, and then—flushed scarlet—made up some excuse about needing to check on something outside before vanishing and leaving me to my candy potion.
It was strange brewing in a clean house.
Every time I lifted my head from the cauldron, something new would catch my eye—something clean and shiny that I was almost certain I’d never noticed before, thanks to months of grime blindness. The copper pans hanging from the rack above the island gleamed softly, and I could have sworn the ancient wood-stove cooker had always been pitch black, not a deep forest green. The coving around the high ceilings revealed a beautiful, entwined leaf design now that it was free of dust, andthe paneled windows glittered like insect eyes, watching over my brewing.
