Page 59 of Raven in Midwinter

“That’s all so important, and it’s good to be reminded. You’re a very smart man.”

He waggled his brows. “I tell you that all the time.”

But he didn’t, instead letting his actions speak for him most of the time. When he did give voice to his words; they were always helpful.

Suddenly I could barely breathe, and the lump in my throat made it impossible to converse.

“Like I told you before, I knew you were alive,” he rumbled, his voice ragged and low. “I could feel it in my chest, and now, no matter what Giles wants, between me and you, we’ll save our land. I mean, c’mon, we’ve already got our home back.”

“You’re brilliant,” I let him know. “I need you to come outside with me, but you’ll need your rifle with the iron bullets.”

“You think the iron will kill her conjured creatures?”

“I certainly hope so, but even if they don’t die, you’ll slow them down.”

“And Giles?”

“He’ll have to deal with me and the land.”

“But the land’s broken.”

“It’s more that it’s lost, I think…so I need to do that reminding you were talking about.”

“Now? In winter? Do you think you can?”

“There’s no choice,” I assured him. “I’m the guardian. If I don’t try, there’s no one else.”

He nodded.

“Will you help me?”

The squint, like I was nuts, was better and more comforting than any words.

TEN

The second I walked out of the greenhouse, Ilara crossed from where she was, on the side of the cottage, near the snow-covered hydrangea bushes, and stood there staring at me. It was like a nightmare come to life, her wolves gathered around her in the deep snow. It was hard to turn away—it seemed insane not to have eyes on her—but I had no choice. I needed to commune with the land.

Putting my faith in Lorne to keep me safe, I trudged through the snow toward the now frozen stream. I used the elemental magic that was always mine to call upon, and between the wind and a bit of fire—the ground was rock hard now with frozen snow—I cleared a place to sink down into.

As soon as I was on my knees, I heard the shotgun, and quickly shoved my hands into the earth and closed my eyes. The cacophony of voices in my head, screaming and shrieking over one another, was heartbreaking. Under the quiet snow, Corvus was vibrating with anger and confusion and betrayal, not understanding what had been done or why. The calls were a constant jumble of pleading and hatred, hope and fear.

I reached deeper, calling to the wards, calling on the blood of every guardian who had sacrificed to keep the land safe, and then reminded Corvus of their spouses and children, of generations living on the land, raising families, and the joy and love and grace that had been bestowed.

I filled my mind with fireflies and fairies, long walks in the woods talking to the trees, gathering flowers for my wedding, of vegetables grown in the garden, of the passing centuries and people laid to rest in the earth. I thought about my grandparents lying in the meadow together, counting stars in the fall, and later, of my grandfather taking walks in the misty mornings talking to Corvus, and me, about her. My sigh was long, because my happiest memories were here, in this place, on the land I loved.

I thought of my best friend’s kids growing up here, running in the tall grass, listening to the wind, their laughter and love, of all of life’s small moments, of contentment and ease, and the ebb and flow of time. And finally, of Lorne, holding my hand as we walked together through the trees in silent communion with the forest.

When I was done, I listened, hard, and when there was only deafening silence, I despaired, but then Lorne crouched down beside me. We were facing opposite directions—he clearly didn’t want anything running up on us—but our shoulders touched, and that comforted me.

Turning my head, I saw concern on him, as well as resignation. “Are they dead?”

“No,” he husked. “But they have to heal before they get up, and that’s made the others wary of getting too close to me.”

“Where is she?”

“Giles arrived, and she went to join him.”

“Great,” I whispered.