Page 23 of Innocent Until Proven Witch

"I did," he says, his expression sobering. "The wards."

Unfortunately, the bond may be distracting, but the storms remain a larger problem. I grab my satchel. "Then let's go."

The northern coastline sits quieter than the harbor, the cliffs rising sharply above the water, battered by years of storms and relentless waves. Most of Moonhaven avoids this area unless necessary. I don't have that luxury.

The moment we reach the northern post, the familiar sensation crawls across my skin. Wrong. I stop walking, and Finn notices immediately.

"What is it?" he asks.

I move toward the nearest ward stone. "The protection is weakening."

His expression sharpens. "You can feel that?"

I kneel beside the marker. "Yes," I mutter, the answer coming automatically. The stone should be humming with steady energy. Instead, the magic flickers, unstable, damaged, and my stomach tightens. "It's worse than before."

I rest my hand by the weathered surface, and cold energy answers in fragments—corruption, interference, the same sensation I felt offshore. My frown deepens. Someone has been here recently, and the realization sends unease sliding down my spine.

I stand and move farther along the cliff path. Another ward waits ahead, then another, and the farther I investigate, the more troubled I become. Every marker carries signs of tampering—subtle, deliberate, calculated. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing.

I crouch beside the largest stone and study the damaged runes, and something glimmers beneath the surface. My breath catches.

No.

My hand presses against the marker immediately, and magic flows through the stone. Recognition follows, the sensation hitting like ice water.

My magic. The signature embedded within the ward belongs to me. I stagger backward.

Impossible.

A loud squawk breaks the silence, and before I can react, something crashes into me from above. Mud explodes across my face. I freeze. Slowly, very slowly, I look up. A large seabird lands several feet away, the creature staring at me completely unapologetic.

Finn looks from the bird to my face, then immediately looks away, his shoulders shaking.

"Don't," I warn, the word leaving my mouth instantly.

Finn presses his lips together, the effort lasting approximately one second before he laughs, the sound echoing across the cliffs. I glare at him as the bird takes flight.

Traitor.

Finn attempts to recover. "I am trying very hard to be respectful."

"You're failing."

"Terribly," he admits.

I wipe mud from my cheek, the attempt only making things worse. Finn's laughter fades, his expression softening. "Here," he says, stepping closer, and before I can protest, his hand lifts toward my face, his thumb brushing my cheek gently, carefully.

The world immediately becomes a problem. Heat rushes through me, fast, violent, the mate connection flaring to life as my pulse slams against my ribs. Finn stills, the same reaction flashing across his expression. His hand remains against my skin, the connection humming between us, warm, electric, dangerously easy.

Finn clears his throat first, then slowly lowers his hand. "There," he points, his voice rougher than before. "The mud's gone."

The disappointment that follows is entirely unreasonable. I ignore it, or at least attempt to. Unfortunately, the ward stone remains exactly where I left it, and so does the problem.

My expression hardens, and Finn notices immediately. "What happened?" he asks.

I turn back toward the marker, the answer feeling impossible even as I say it. "The signature."

"What signature?"