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“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
19
There was nothing. Only sadness and an unfamiliar awareness of my own grief. Something I’d been running from for longer than I could remember. Every muscle in my body grew heavier as the world appeared around me. One moment I was staring into those sad eyes and the next, I was alone. Again. Standing before a frosted window, looking down upon a blizzard waging war through the Fire Coven.
I couldn’t look at the chair by the fire without thinking of him. Of the way he’d slumped into that seat, searching for answers after I’d damned him. I’d been whisked back to the inn he’d taken me to, and if the snowfall was an indication, I wasn’t leaving anytime soon.
Tiny steps carried me to the edge of the bed before I sat heavily with the weight of the world on my shoulders. I could do this. Had done this every year for ten years at Winter Solstice. I simply needed to walk away. Because he was right, and we’d both known how it was going to end. He ran from me last night. Afraid of what he saw when he looked at me, and I deserved better than that. I just needed to convince my heart. But then, I’d always been a runner, too.
Three solid knocks on the door whisked me from despair, and I let a sliver of hope inch its dangerous way into my heart. Steeling my nerves, I swung the door open, not to find a lopsided grin, but simply the innkeeper balancing a tray.
“You haven’t left this room in days, Miss. I thought maybe you could use refreshment. Tea?”
But he’d seen me leave. Had watched Atlas and I load everything onto that giant sleigh right outside of his inn.
“Please, sir. What day is it?”
Had we gone back in time somehow? Had the Spirits’ magic truly been that powerful?
The scraggly man’s head drew back as he scrutinized me over the question. “Tomorrow’s Winter Solstice.”
I hadn’t missed a day. I wondered if the world had really tilted, or if I’d stumbled.
“You okay, Miss?”
“Fine. I’m fine. I’m uh… Storm Coven witch and—”
“Ah. Yes. The blizzard.”
I slid my hands beneath his metal tray, if only to end the awkward silence that followed his questioning gaze.
Those fucking Spirits were probably hiding in this very room, silently cackling at my inability to adjust to their intrusive magic. Assholes.
“Th- thank you so much. This was very kind.” I hooked my foot behind the door, ready to slam it shut the second he backed far enough out of the frame.
“They say the storm’s likely to pass soon. The festival is still planned for—”
“I’m so sorry. I’m not feeling well. Thank you again for the gesture.”
His mouth hung ajar, but he let the door shut regardless. Setting the tray down, I eyed a biscuit for less than a second before my stomach turned. I wasn’t hungry, only miserable, gutted even.
I snapped the dusty curtains together, blocking out the light, the storm, the entire world as I crawled into bed and buried my head beneath the covers. If I closed my eyes and breathed slowly enough, I could feel him there, lying beside me, heating me in a way that only he, the wolf, could do. I didn’t blame him for saving his soul. I only blamed my heart for not protecting mine.
When my eyes closed, I saw the careful planes of his face. The deep hollow of his cheeks. The lopsided grin. The scar. Time would steal the details. Smoothing the edges of my memories so he would be nothing more than a passing thought. Except for those eyes. They’d been burned into my very being, and, as long as I lived, I’d never see anything more stunning. The eyes of a wolf, trapped in the body of a witch.
As each memory played through my mind, I thought of his misery. And then of the lightness he would feel when everything was gone. I wondered if he’d find his happiness. His friends.
I gasped so quickly I choked on air, jerking straight out of bed again. His friends. Running to the window, I ripped the curtains open. Their squealing protest against the rod at the top was hardly audible over the pounding of my own heart.
Atlas may have forgotten everything, but I remembered. They must have as well. And if he disappeared, they’d never stop searching for him. There were few things I had that much faith in, but his conviction when he spoke of his friends as if they were family, even when they’d said things that likely hurt him, was unwavering. Maybe we could help him remember.
But another fucking blizzard was wreaking havoc on the Fire Coven. I had no idea how far away the castle was, and only a vague memory of how we’d gotten there in the sleigh. I had to try, though. Should I be buried in a snowdrift and frozen through, at least I’d tried. If not for him, then for me. Because maybe he ran that night, but I was a hunter.
* * *
“You’re sure, Miss Marley? It’s dangerous. They say the outside covens may not make it in time for Solstice if the storms don’t settle soon.”
I shoved my arm through the third layer of borrowed clothing and nodded to the innkeeper. “I’m sure. And I’ll follow the directions the best I can. How much for that?”
