Page 42 of An Arrow to the Heart

Sylvie shifted on her heels awkwardly and she got the feeling this happened a lot. Ardál cleared his throat at her side, snapping Primrose’s attention back to them as she said, “uh, yes, sorry, this way,” and led them through a pair of double glass doors into a formal sitting room of sorts. Soft light filtered through lace curtains and cast a golden hue over the exquisite clean interior. Whilst the room was filled to the brim with nick nacks and antique furniture, it looked impeccably neat, unlike Sylvie’s personal messy and mismatched style.

“Take a seat, I’ll grab Ganny, can I get you anything to drink?” Primrose said, ushering them to the pale blue floral-patterned settee.

Sylvie and Ardál both shook their heads, before Sylvie said, “no, thank you.”

“I still can’t quite get my head around the fact that Primrose is a bone witch,” Ardál whispered, his lips thin in a nervous but pleasant smile. Since that day in the woods, he had barely left her side and the strangest thing about that was that she hadn’t wanted him to. It felt like for the first time she was whole, like he had been a missing part of her soul.

The sound of heels on the wooden floor echoed as Primrose re-entered the room and following closely behind her was the woman Sylvie had come to see. Sylvie stood promptly, nudging Ardál in the arm to do the same as she straightened her skirts.

“Sit,” the older woman, Ethel, said, her tone not unfriendly yet lacking warmth all the same.

There was no doubting that this woman was the matriarch for her posture conveyed an innate sense of authority and self-assurance. The lines on her face, though etched by the passage of time, told of her experience, and Sylvie felt glad she didn’t have to deal with this woman on a regular basis. Her white-grey hair placed perfectly atop her head with not a singular hair out of place drawing the eye to her neck where she wore a necklace similar to the one Primrose did, but Ethel’s was much larger and ornate. Her attire was flawlessly tailored, the woollen grey dress falling to her ankles showing off her freshly polished black leather boots.

“Primrose here vouched for you,” she said slowly pointing her hand toward Primrose, before she continued, “my favourite granddaughter is the only reason I’m entertaining you, but, I have to say I am intrigued as to what brings you here, dragon.”

Well I guess she knows exactly who I am, Sylvie thought. She supposed that made it easier though and she decided to skip the small talk.

“I am here on behalf of my twin brother, Sylas,” she said, matching Ethel’s tone, “one-hundred and eighty-three summers ago a bone witch of your lineage cursed him, and I am here to ask for your aid in breaking that curse.”

“Ah. I see. You’ve come into my home to ask for my blood,” Ethel said, her tone steely, not breaking eye contact with her but Sylvie saw it for what it was, an attempt to intimidate her. Despite Sylvie’s younger appearance she was in fact older than the woman before her and while Ethel may be the matriarch to a grand lineage of witches, Sylvie was not without power of her own.

“Yes,” Sylvie said, tone unbothered, casually taking a sip of the cloudy drink Primrose had pushed into her hand. She hadn’t even registered that Primrose had left and brought them all drinks.

“I can respect that you don’t mince your words, although I must say normally when folk come asking for my aid they come baring gifts and promises.”

“That may be, but I am not most folk, and I believe given that your lineage is directly responsible for my twin brother’s suffering, the least you could do is right the wrongs of your ancestors. I have already found the appropriate spell and gathered the necessary ingredients. All that remains is for you to perform the spell with a few drops of your blood.”

“Straight to the point again I see,” she said, taking a sip of her own drink, “say I’m considering this, what am I to gain?”

“To not have to experience my wrath. I’ve waited nearly two hundred years, Ethel, and I am waiting no longer, nor am I begging. Do what’s right,” Sylvie said, her words unwavering.

Ethel looked at her for a moment, assessing her, before darting her gaze toward Ardál, “I see the two of you are bonded.”

What’s that got to do with anything? Sylvie wanted to ask, but she knew better so opted to remain silent.

“I’m told he saved my Liliana from a horrible fate,” she said, not taking her eyes off him and Sylvie could feel Ardál shift uncomfortably, though his face remained affable.

“Consider this the debt paid,” she said getting up, heading toward the same direction from which she had appeared.

Wait what? Sylvie’s eyes widened in shock.

“Does that mean you agree to free Sylas of the curse?”

“Yes,” Ethel said in that same tone lacking any hint of emotion, “gather the necessary ingredients, we move at dusk. But, I agree to do this now and this time only, if for whatever reason the desired outcome is not achieved, I do not care and no-one from this family will have any further involvement.”

Sylvie merely nodded in agreement as she fought to hide the wave of relief flooding her senses.

She was so close now.

All being well, she’d free her twin of his curse before the next sunrise.

Sylas would be free.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

-Ardál-

The past three days since they’d arrived back in Wyrmwind had been a complete whirlwind but Ardál wouldn’t change any of it. They had been the happiest days of his life and he grinned to himself with the knowledge that this was only the beginning.