Page 41 of An Arrow to the Heart

Bubbles and water were pushed over the edge of the tub and they both laughed as they struggled for space, she shifted onto her knees, her breasts pressing into his chest.

“Okay, okay, I take it back, you were right,” she said, laughing between her words. “A bigger tub it is.” Ardál only chuckled, the movement of it sending more of the water rippling.

“Lucky for you, I was already done,” she said before placing a kiss on his cheek. Her face lingering there slightly, just enjoying the warmth of his skin against hers before she whispered in his ear, “I’ll be waiting for you in bed, but…,” she paused briefly, leaning into his ear so he could feel the heat of her breath, “I can’t promise I’ll be dry.”

She quickly got up out of the tub then, leaving the water sploshing in her wake as she wrapped a towel around herself.

And as she did so, Ardál submerged himself in the water entirely, as though he was in a race against time to get washed.

Sylvie helped herself to some bacon and bread that Ardál had prepared for breakfast and joined him at the table to find him chuckling to himself, his hand in his pocket.

Narrowing her eyes, she asked him, “what’s so funny?

“Ah, it’s just this,” he said pulling a necklace from his pocket, “I had bought if for you at the autumn fair, I don’t know why, it just called to me for some reason and I thought I’d get it for you because it reminded me of you, and then everything happened I never got the chance to give it to you and well, now it seems more than a bit silly,” he began to chuckle to himself once more. He held it up and Sylvie began to giggle as she looked at the dragon pendant.

“Silly maybe, but it’s beautiful nonetheless,” she said, taking it out of his hand to inspect it. It felt as though forces out of both of their control had pulled them to each other.

“Would you help me with it,” she said, placing the necklace back in his hand as she turned her head lifting her hair out of the way.

“There’s nothing I’d love more,” he said, he put the necklace on her then gently kissed the nape of her neck, his lips lingering, taking in the scent of her before he returned to his breakfast.

Sylvie had told Ardál everything. She’d told him the story of how her twin brother had gotten himself cursed by a witch who had tricked him decades ago. She told him how for the last eighty-three years her brother had been forced to remain in his dragon form. She had told him that’s how she became a healer in the first place. She had spent day and night researching all sorts of healing and somewhere along the line had discovered it was a passion of hers so she vowed to help as many as she could whilst never giving up on helping her brother.

The first years of his curse had been the most difficult for her, she hadn’t allowed herself to live, her attention solely focused on getting her brother back. It had felt as though part of her was cursed along with him but as the years went on she swore she wouldn’t let the curse take her life from her too so she found a balance between trying to save her brother and living her life.

But she couldn’t bring herself to shift, like she’d locked that part of herself deep within in her the day Sylas was cursed. It was only that day when Ardál’s life had been in danger that she chose to embrace that part of herself again, to save him and it was a choice she’d make again in a heartbeat.

And, she’d explained to him about her magic, that it was tied to the forest itself and that all use of magic came with a cost so she refrained from using it altogether.

Ardál hadn’t once baulked at the story she had told him, he’d only comforted and reassured her. Offering his help in any way he could.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

-Sylvie-

Primrose walked ahead of her and Ardál, her blush-rose woollen dress and cascading pink pale-honied hair swayed in her bouncy walk.

Sylvie felt like a fool, she had no idea that the veiled house sat here, only miles from her own. She supposed though that was the whole point behind it being veiled and spell protected. In that moment she was just thankful that Primrose had agreed to set up a meeting, otherwise there would have been no way in. The house lay off the path behind a crop of pear trees halfway between Wyrmwind and Applebie with the dark forest surrounding it.

Sylvie and Ardál had managed to convince Primrose to help them over shared bottles of Lonan’s latest mead creation. Not that she’d been reluctant, quite the opposite actually, Primrose seemed relieved to have someone know her true identity. She had mentioned that her coven forbade her from announcing it, that she’d longed to share her secret and now that they were aware she was eager to be involved. Under other circumstances Sylvie may have been wary of that eagerness but as it was she was just relieved to be getting closer to breaking that damned curse.

Sylvie chastised herself for not realising who and what Primrose was for so long, she hid it incredibly well, beneath the flower farmer and the hues of pink was a witch, and not just any witch, she hailed from a powerful lineage of bone witches. And it just so happened that it was a bone witch that had cursed Sylas, shifting his bones against his will, Primrose’s ancestor to be precise. Or at least that’s what Sylvie had come to suspect.

Sylvie hadn’t made the connection until she got her hands on Beneath the Marrow Moon, a tome that outlined a brief history of bone witches, their magic, their curses and importantly how to identify one. It wasn’t until then that Sylvie recognised the significance of the choker Primrose wore. In hindsight, she’d always felt it out of place in comparison to the rest of her attire but until then she’d never questioned it. It was made of polished bone, fashioned in a way to replicate deer antlers. It seemed obvious once she knew what it represented.

Unfortunately though, she needed the matriarch of the coven to perform the undoing spell, something to do with connecting to the spirit of the original curse caster, and as head of the family, only Primrose’s grandmother possessed the ability to do so.

They walked past rows of perfectly tended bright white roses, their silk-like petals adorned with little droplets of dew from the night before. Strange given that the roses in her own garden had died back weeks ago.

“That’s weird,” Ardál had leaned in and whispered, clearly also noting the unseasonable oddities. But they didn’t have long to ponder over it as they now stood before a beautiful old manor. Crafted from weathered stone, the building was clearly a lot older than most others in the surrounding villages, climbing white roses and ivy adorned its walls adding an enduring charm.

“Here we are,” Primrose said cheerfully, first straightening her dress then weaving her fingers through her hair with a twist to reset her curls. The three of them stood in front of large wooden double doors, painted a deep red with beautifully crafted circular brass door knobs.

Sylvie took a steadying breath as Primrose led them inside. The scent of roses carried into the house where she was greeted with a charming interior, everything was presented immaculately. A feline body pressed against Sylvie’s leg, its back arched slightly as it began to nuzzle against her whilst meowing. Keeping her eyes up, Sylvie dropped a hand to rub behind the cat’s ears.

“Ugh, shoo, Knochen,” Primrose waved her hands frantically at the long-haired bone-white cat who paid her no heed, “sorry,” she said with a half hearted shrug, her lips thin, “he doesn’t really listen to me,” she said turning to the cat, “do you?”

Turning back to face Sylvie and Ardál, she continued, “he acts like he’s never fed but please be assured he is a blatant liar,” she said now facing back to the cat, “get out of here you greedy little pig.”