The Warlock stands alone on the back veranda, looking out at his gardens.
I shiver, the air cooling as late afternoon turns to evening. Maybe it’s nerves. Why wasn’t I scared to meet this Warlock all those months ago, and now I’m terrified to say hello?
With a steeling breath, I join him at the porch railing. “Gossip is, an anonymous donor has funded the town’s plans to finally rebuild the library.”
His shoulders go taut at my voice but he doesn’t look over. “So I heard. Someone likely realized there’s no point being the wealthiest man in the graveyard.”
I try to smile, but my mind tiptoes back to my mom at the hospital. He clears his throat and my eyes latch on to his stoic profile, greedy for a distraction.
He faces me now, hip braced against the railing, and looks to the bustling kitchen. “Even once the library and church are rebuilt,I think I’ll keep the Manor open. To neighbors, visitors. The house seems tickled with all the activity.”
My heart crams a hundred beats into half a second. I’m—proud. Teaspoon by teaspoon, the chill that followed me from the hospital melts away.
“Ms. Zeen will riot at the mess.”
“It’ll be good for her, too.” Beyond his shoulder, fireflies come to life, skittering in the evening air.
All my nerves are frayed at this point, but I need to ask, before I lose my chance. “During all our research for Lazlo, I read up on the Language of Small Wishes. You told me it doesn’t allow you to grant wishes for family and folks you live with. But that’s not true, is it?”
He stiffens.
“You can’t grant wishes for people youlove.”
He takes a sharp breath, and the glow from inside chases some of the shadows from his face. “For the people we love, we have to put in the work. Wishes only get a person so far.”
I’m really hoping the fading evening light will hide my flushed cheeks. “When, ah… when did it stop working around me?”
Maybe he’ll sayWhat do you mean?Let us both pretend and push on with our lives. But then his full attention lands on me, eyes bright and hard, and I know none of this is going to be easy. I swallow, hoping for air, but just find fear. Hope. Both. They taste the same right now.
“When you were in the hospital… When you became sick, I was losing you and I’d only just found you.”
I brace myself against the railing, unsteady. “That feels like ages ago.”
“Feels like minutes for me.Everyminute I spend with you feels like a new moment, like I’m learning the world for the first time.”
Oh LordLordLord.
I’m not ready for this conversation. For any of this. How can Iappreciate a part of my world opening up while another part is on the brink of collapse? Can’t we go back to our easy repartee, the days when I was the one makinghimuncomfortable?
All I can muster is: “Thank you for letting me stay here tonight, by the way.”
His brow lowers, his eyes roaming over me. I get a glimpse of the man who kissed me breathless back at the Widow Witch’s cottage.
“Stay as long as you like.”
My heartbeat gives a little shudder at his words, which don’t sound at all as simple asStay as long as you like. “You can’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like that.”
“Elaborate, Ms. Frost.”
“We can talk about this tomorrow.” If tomorrow doesn’t bring bad news and my shattered heart.
His jaw tenses. “Whether tomorrow or the next day, I will be unable to hide that I no longer have any ability to treat you as casually as a neighbor or colleague.”
I nearly squeak. “Then why did you avoid me for a week?”
