Page 78 of A Wolf for Winter

“Boar? Shut up,” he said, not unkindly.

“It’ll wear off,” Lilac said quickly. “Eventually.”

Allen glanced down from the woman struggling in his grip to the potions expert wringing her hands. “And how did Talia, a near-talentless practitioner, get her hands on a powerful love potion, Lilac?”

She winced. “I may or may not have made her one to get back at Boar for all the times he belittled me. B-but I didn’t give her all of it, and what I did was diluted! I don’t hate my brother that much to sic a full-octane love potion on him, a-and you kind of made me feel guilty after that talk by the fireplace for even considering it.”

“So if it’s a diluted love potion, what does that mean?”

“It’s, um, more of a ‘strong affection’ potion, maybe?”

“I don’t need a potion to tell me what my heart truly feels,” Boar assured him, reaching to run his hand through Allen’s blond hair.

Allen dodged the touch. “Boar? How about we keep our hands to ourselves until we’re done with Talia, okay?”

“Whatever you say, babe,” he said congenially, trying out a new pet name. Then Boar thrust a finger into Talia’s face, green magic sparking in his eyes. “You’re a bitch for keeping us apart, you know that?”

“Okay,” Lilac admitted. “Maybe it’s more of an ‘infatuation’ potion.”

Allen raised his voice. “Alright, Hawthornes, listen up. I need you two to come to grips with a few things very quickly. Lilac, we were wrong about Prue.”

“Evidently,” she said, hefting the napkin-wrapped charm.

“It was Talia.”

“But she’s a nobody,” Boar protested, not meanly. Apparently Lilac’s diluted love potion was messing with more than one of his inhibitions, particularly the politeness filter on his brain. “How could—”

“Eh!” Allen snapped. “No more interruptions. Zip it!” He sucked in a deep breath and continued, “She poisoned me, which was why I was missing all afternoon. Talia also has an accomplice, someone with command over fae magic. No, I don’t know where he is at the moment, and no, surprisingly that’s not the worst of our problems. The entire Cailleach Lodge is outside, ready to wage war unless we release Prue, and will commence their attack in approximately three minutes if we don’t return her right now.”

Lilac turned to the cellar suite they had all clustered beside and gestured to Boar. “Well? Open it!”

“Absolutely not,” her brother said. “Not until I have her oath that she won’t harm—”

“Do it,” Allen barked.

“Right away, sugar,” Boar spun on his heel and pressed a glowing hand to the keyhole. He yanked it open, revealing a murderous-looking hedge witch inside.

Before she could take even a breath, Allen stepped forward with Talia still in his grip. “You were right, we were wrong, and I need you not to hold a grudge right now.”

Whatever she was about to say died on her lips. Then: “Came to your senses at last, did you, caretaker?”

He gave a curt nod. “Yep. Now skedaddle. Your people are outside ready to attack and we need you to make them not do that.”

“Why should I?” Prue looked down her nose at the Hawthornes. “You Hawthornes always think you’re better than us hedge witches simply because of the magic you practice. Perhaps this is just the slice of humble pie you need to choke on.”

“But we are better than you,” Boar said, sounding confused at how that was even a subject up for debate, and Lilac whacked him in the arm.

“Hush,” she hissed.

“You’ll tell them to back off,” Allen told Prue, “because if they attack the Hall, they’ll hurt everyone inside. All those townsfolk, their children. Innocents.”

She stalked out of the suite. “You could just let them go, then there wouldn’t be collateral damage.”

“They’re safer in here than they are out there. Talia didn’t come across a heretic’s fork on her own. Who do you think gave it to her?”

Prue’s eyes sharpened. Then she grunted, sweeping a look at the other witches. “I suppose I’ll go tell them to stand down. But we’re not done here, Hawthornes. Not even close.”

When she marched for the cellar stairway, Allen interrupted, “Use the back door here, Prue? If you please. Time is of the essence, and that ballroom is nothing but distraction.”