“I tried finding her. For years, I tried.”
He frowns slightly. “You’ve been searching for the one who cast your spell all this time? You know you could probably just find another witch to undo it. It doesn’t have to be the same one who cursed you.”
I stop and look at him sharply. “You think so?”
He shrugs. “I’m no expert...but why not? If a witch cast a spell on you, couldn’t another oneuncastyou? She should at least be able to do something to improve your situation. Shouldn’t be that hardto find another witch. The skelm kept one for a while before she escaped.” He taps the side of his head. “I spotted her when I would spy on them.”
Couldn’t another one uncast you?
The suggestion surges through me, an unremitting current, feeding me a hope I haven’t felt in years. Such a thing never occurred to me. Finding another witch feels immensely more possible than finding the one who cursed me ten years ago. The Borg is a big city. I can well imagine there’s one there, perhaps more, keeping a low profile, but not living completely anonymously.
“I never considered that.”
His head bounces reflectively side to side. “Sometimes you’re too close to the problem and need an outside perspective.”
A smile twitches my lips. Wisdom from a boy. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for what?” Tage asks, marching toward the firepit, taking us in with a quick glance. He stops and settles his hands on his narrow hips, arching one ink-dark eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.
“Merik pointed out that I might not need to find the same witch that cursed me to break the curse. Any witch might be able to help me.”
Tage looks coolly back to the younger dragon, and there’s something in the sharp movement of his head, the quick way he turns to look at him that reminds me of his animal nature—and that I spent the night in his furs. A sharp little thrill flutters in my stomach, knowing he was able to leash all that threat and power and bring me such spectacular pleasure. Instead of alarming me as it should, a ripple of desire runs through me. Perverse, perhaps, but no less true.
“That could work...if you come across a witch again,” he says flatly, and something deflates a little inside me at his seeming lack of...interest. “Do you think that likely? To find a witch all the way up here?” He gestures around us.
I glare at him. Of course breaking my curse does not matter to him. Stuck here, surrounded by magic, I’m visible. He doesn’t care about my invisibility among humans.
He looks back at Merik. “Don’t you have something to do?” The terseness of his tone makes me blink.
Merik nods and strides away.
I look away, annoyed in a way I don’t fully understand, and finish scooping the last bit of ash. I feel him the whole time, standing there, watching me. Finally done, I stand and step over the circle of gemstones.
He reaches to take the bucket from me.
At first, I don’t let him have it. “I can do this myself. Just tell me where to dispose of the ash.”
“We dump it outside.”
Outside.The place I’m not allowed to go. He doesn’t say it, but I understand perfectly.
His hand shifts, clasping mine over the handle. Midnight eyes lock on me, compelling, urging me toward what...I don’t know. His thumb brushes the back of my hand in enticing, rhythmic strokes, and just like that I’m back in his den, sinking into the furs with him, the push and pull of our bodies a fervor between us. “I’m not trying to discourage you, but it’s unlikely you’re going to encounter a witch up here.”
“Up here. Right.” I jerk my chin, motioning around us. “Another reason for me to return to Penterra.”
He doesn’t say anything, simply holds my gaze, his hand still tethering us together. But even without his hand on me, I feel tethered. Connected.
The memory of our night lives, breathes between us. It’s present, bubbling, throbbing like a swelling storm. There’s no end of it. Not until I’m gone.
I press on: “You can’t keep me here forever.”
In his eyes I read an emotion I cannot decipher.
After a moment, he tugs the bucket away—because he can’t trust me to the task, because I am not permitted to beoutsidealone. “I’ll take care of this,” he says before walking away.
It’s his only response and it’s not enough.
It’s not anything.
