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It was what Mom would’ve done.
“Yes,” I snapped. “Don’t make me regret it by getting all sappy.”
He slammed his slack jaw shut. His jawline became a hard ridge, and his gaze was laser-focused on a fern across the suite.
At least he’s not looking at me like I’m a hero. It was ridiculous—he was grateful simply because I hadn’t killed him.
“Do you have any advice for where to start?” I asked Josephine.
She glanced between Walker and me several times. She sighed, then uncrossed her arms.
“We still haven’t heard from the wolves. I’ve been meaning to send someone to investigate.”
“I could leave without the rest of the coven wondering why,” I mused. Walker could disappear too, and none of them would think to go looking for him in wolf territory. One quick spell could conceal his location, so no one could track him magically.
“Wait.” Walker paused his brooding. “Werewolves?”
“Yes,” Josephine said. “Keep up.”
Walker rolled his eyes and ran his hands over his tired face.
“And we can get closer to discovering who’s really responsible,” I continued. “This is a good idea.”
“Dearest,” Josephine assured with her usual grandeur. “I only have good ideas.”
I smiled at her. It was the first thing she’d said in days that sounded like her normal self, and not some automated message crafted by the Elders.
“I can’t leave Cady defenseless,” Walker interjected.
“Our coven won’t hurt her,” I promised.
“I’ll protect her myself,” Josephine vowed. “You must help Freya clean up this mess, unless you want to bring the danger right to your sister’s doorstep.”
He considered this and slowly nodded. He was probably less worried about the coven and more worried about his father, but we both knew she was better off with him than wherever in the Goddess’s name this investigation took us.
“We’ll set off as soon as the next sun rises,” I declared. “Ready for your first hunt, Walker?”
*
I slept in the bed of my enemy. Well, my enemy as of a few hours ago. I wouldn’t call us friends now, but at least I wasn’t trying to kill him.
Walker snored from his place on the floor, in front of the bed. I’d offered to sleep there, but he insisted he could sleep comfortably anywhere. From the power of his snores, I believed him. Truthfully, I would have been fine sharing a bed with him, but Walker was determined not to make me uncomfortable, and I didn’t mind the extra space.
His room was what I expected—simple but clean, and above all, functional. A fan whirred on a bedside table to my left, and crickets chirped outside. I longed for the scent of Mom’s garden—jasmine, lavender, and rosemary—and her much softer snores.
I still hadn’t returned to our cottage since her passing. Though it would still smell like her and have all her decorations and herbs, she wouldn’t be there. I couldn’t face the truth yet—that it wasn’t a place I missed, but a person and that person was gone.
I was homeless.
My chest ached with grief. I had thought losing Mom had killed my brittle heart, but it still sent hot, slow pain through my body.
Arion curled up against my back. I leaned into his warmth.
Now that I’d exposed witch-kind, I couldn’t even attend the Transcending Ceremony for Mom. Everyone else in the coven would get a chance to grieve and celebrate her. They would rely on each other for strength, while I fought to protect us all. This should’ve made me angry, but I couldn’t feel anything beyond the ache in my chest.
Witches aren’t meant to be alone.
It was what Mom always told me on days the coven particularly annoyed me.
