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“Can we stop for a minute?” I stretched my back. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“We’re almost there.” Talon covered my hand with his and squeezed. “You see that cottage up ahead? That’s where we’re going.”
A small stone house came into view, wrapped in flowering vines. It looked like a drawing out of a storybook with its black, tin roof arching to a point and the plumes of smoke billowing out of the chimney. Even as we advanced, it remained but a quaint structure—making me wonder how we’d both fit.
“Where are we?” I asked.
Talon helped me dismount. He held me close as I stumbled into him, kissing the top of my head. “The witch’s house I told you about. You didn’t think we’d leave without the cure for your mother, did you?”
I whipped around to look at him, a mixture of wonder and gratitude filling my chest. “She has the nightingale?”
Talon caressed a thumb along my cheekbone and cupped my chin—a strong, sure gesture—and he nodded. “I should warn you though, Minerva’s an ancient, powerful being. She never does anything without wanting something in return. Let me do the talking, okay? Follow my lead.”
I shuddered, my stomach twisting into knots while I watched Talon tie Zephyr off on a nearby tree, shielding my arms as a deft wave of wind brushed past, rustling the leaves.
The atmosphere thickened, a heavy blanket smothering the air, and we approached the wicker door. It opened wide—ready to devour us—revealing a gaping black hole on the other side.
“After you.” I motioned Talon ahead.
He rolled his shoulders, an impish smirk lifting at the corner of his mouth as he slipped his hands into his pockets. “Chicken,” he said, disappearing into the cottage.
Flipping my finger to his back, I stayed behind. Listening. Waiting to hear if any commotion broke out. For any shrieks or cackles indicating a struggle. But I was met with deafening silence. Even the wind stilled—the forest around me growing dark.
The hair on my neck stood as I stepped forward, on high alert for anything that could be lurking in the near distance.
“I think I’m going to wait out here,” Pipion said, startling me. She hopped out of my pocket and scurried onto a bed of grass several yards away. “I’ll be here when you get back. Don’t look her in the eyes too long—she’ll turn your heart to stone.”
Perfect.
I turned back to the cottage, second-guessing my decision. The last time I ignored the stories, it didn’t work out for me very well. However, I didn’t come this far to stop now.
I took a deep breath, muttered to myself, “Well, here goes nothing,” and slipped into the darkness.
Thirty-Five
“Talon!” I yelled, feeling my way around the darkness. Trying to find something, anything, that could help me gather my bearings. But there was nothing—only blind faith as I continued forward. “Where are you?” I called out again.
Wiping my palms against my tunic, a twinkle of light appeared ahead, growing larger with each step I took.
It flickered and darted to the left and then the right, shooting back and forth haphazardly until it came to an abrupt stop at the tip of my nose.
My eyes crossed at its nearness, and I took a step back, the soft light warming my face. It called to me—a welcoming invitation—and I reached for it, hesitating for a moment before I touched it with my index finger.
As soon as I did, everything around me exploded. A kaleidoscope of colors twisting and expanding.
I folded like paper between pockets of air, spinning and tumbling, until I crashed face-first into a black and gold ornate rug. Air shot from my lungs, and I rolled onto my back, choking as I learned how to breathe again.
Talon appeared above me, his hair shielding only part of his expression. He looked down at me, bemused. I wanted to smack him as he helped me to my feet. “That’s one way to make an entrance.”
I rolled my eyes, brushing my clothes back into place, ignoring the sting in my palms and how he watched me. “Yeah, well, you could’ve warned me.”
Talon smiled. “Where would be the fun in that?”
Placing a hand on the small of my back, he guided me out of the foyer and into a sitting room. The cottage was much larger than it appeared from the outside. The huge, frameless windows on the north end of the home opened to the bright, immense moon—illuminating the space. Golden frames of all shapes and sizes covered the walls, as did an assortment of potted green plants. Wicker baskets and jars filled with herbs, bookshelves stacked with grimoires, and random trinkets filled every room. There wasn’t an empty space to be found.
It was cozy.
Welcoming, even.
