Page 47 of From the Edge

He leaned down and kissed her right cheek. She felt the magical transfer and scowled. “Sneaky.”

“I am a shaman. Sneaky is the first thing I learned.”

“What happened to the clan you were training to watch over?”

He grinned. “I will tell you another day.” He kissed her again without the magical imprint he had left on her the first time. “Good night.”

“Good night.” She walked him out, closed the door, and went to the bed in the window seat. She would deal with her ginormous princess bed tomorrow. Tonight, she wanted to watch the stars until the sun came up.

She sat with her phone and typed up a meal plan with menu items that could be circled weekly. Preferences. A place for allergies, and an email for any favourite recipes that they wanted her to try.

Grilling was scheduled for every other week. She snorted. She was going to need a chat group or a small web page.

She smiled and sighed. As long as she kept the main house to the same configuration, it would maintain its historical designation. She was allowed to use it for its original purpose, and its purpose was a pack house. If the walls remained with the historically appropriate trims, all was good.

She felt sleepy and set her phone alarm for twenty minutes before dawn, and it went on a charger while she nodded off. Sleep wasn’t something to be wasted. Tomorrow was going to be busy.

Chapter Eight

Rowan woke at four thirty and got showered and dressed. Humming to herself, she walked down the stairs and headed for the kitchen. She got some frozen pastries from the freezer and started the big coffeemaker. It felt like a big coffee kind of day.

She got her own teapot underway, slid the pastries into the oven, and made some waffles while she waited.

When dawn arrived, she had a buffet of breakfast items waiting for those who liked sweet or savoury. She walked outside and felt those who approached the gate. She opened the gate and held the pouch at her side. Rowan walked out to Aspen with a thermal sippy cup of tea. “So, Auntie, today is the big day. I have your curse with me, and the ladies are coming up the drive.”

Excited curls of music stuttered out.

Rowan explained what she had seen the day before with Mell. “So I am going to put the cursed skin back on you, and then when the ladies break the curse, your self is going to rush into the vacuum and take its place in the statue. Then you can move it around a bit. I have a place ready for you in the house if you want. The carriage house is private, but I don’t want you alone for a while.”

More music spilled out, calming and soft. She touched the hand of the statue and smiled. “Soon.”

The ladies and some of their partners walked toward them, smiling. Rowan said, “If you need coffee or food, head through the kitchen.”

Some of the guys diverted, and talking happened when the door opened. Renyet walked out in a white shirt, slacks, and leather shoes. There was a human-seeming that overlapped his features.

He sipped at his coffee while chatting with the other orcs. They were all gathering with the takeout cups, and the dark elves came out with trays for their ladies who were trying to plan their attack.

Rowan walked toward the statue, and she pulled the box out of her little purse. “I have the curse. I just have to put it on the statue, and you can break it.”

Regis blinked. “You kept it?”

“Yup. It was the last solid piece of her; it is part her and part the curse. If anything was needed to straddle that timing, it was this piece of Aspen jerky.” She carefully unfurled it and wrapped it around the collarbone and shoulder, holding it together with a piece of tape.

Mik and Arwell walked up, and others followed. They surrounded the statue, and Rowan said, “Am I needed for this?”

Mik said, “Whatever you can do to keep the power focused on Aspen. I ask for help when I need it.”

Rowan looked at the ladies and said, “Focus is what you will have.”

She opened her hands, and glyphs and lines spread around the ladies who were gathering to begin. When the wards were set, she stepped back and let the semi-professionals work.

Regis’s husband was there, and he said, “She didn’t want to miss participating again.”

“Nice.”

“Are you one of ours?”

“An elite tall person? No.”