Page 59 of A Wolf for Winter

“Why do you think?” Lilac demanded. “She confronted her about the ill-wishes! Talia was defending us.”

“She’s still alive,” Rose said, drawing her fingers from where they’d pressed into Prue’s wrinkled neck. “Whatever spell she cast must’ve backfired and knocked her out.”

“Rose, Lilac, you get Prue up. She’s coming with us.” Boar hefted Allen into his arms and staggered once in the snow to get his balance. The shifter wasn’t as burly as the witch was, but he was still thick with muscle. “Talia, get yourself home. We’ll be in touch.”

Talia nodded so profusely Lilac thought her head would wobble off her shoulders.

“Now,” Boar prompted.

With a squeak like a terrified rabbit, Talia turned towards the village and bounded off.

“You could’ve thanked her,” Rose snapped, wrangling one of Prue’s arms across her shoulder. “Lilac, get over here. She’s not exactly light.”

Lilac helped her sister lift the hedge witch, marveling how the pointy witch hat remained on Prue’s head even as it lolled against her chest. With one trudging step after another, the two sisters dragged the hedge witch back up the hill and into the Hall.

The decorations that hadn’t transformed into murderous evergreen vipers seemed to have lost all their sparkle and cheer. The ornaments seemed dull, the bows sad, and the fire in the massive hearth popped and sizzled gloomily. It was as if the entire Hall was depressed that its caretaker had returned in such a sorry state. Maybe it truly was.

Grunting, Boar set Allen down on the cold hardwood floor, but only for a moment. He extracted a seed from the vial in his pocket, and as a sapling grew, Boar shot a pillar of green magic at the cluster of garlands that had tried to strangle him. Every bough, needle, and cone was swept up and launched into the hearth. The flames burst with light and heat as they devoured every last trace, perfuming the air with pine and spruce.

In the meantime, the sapling had grown, its branches enveloping the unconscious caretaker. Lilac watched in wonder as the tree grew and stretched, arcing over the second-floor balcony towards Allen’s room. The door opened of its own accord, or perhaps from the will of the Hall, and the poplar tree disappeared inside, presumably to lay Allen on his bed.

Boar turned back to his sisters. “Rose, you go and look after him—”

“I’ll go.” Lilac slid out from under Prue’s arm. Her brother lurched forward, catching Lilac’s half of the hedge witch before Rose could buckle under the cumbersome weight.

“But you don’t even like him,” Rose protested. “That’ll be a great way to wake up, staring right into the eyes of someone who loathes you. Joy!”

“He saved me,” Lilac gritted out. “I’m staying with him, and that’s that.”

“What were you doing out there, anyway?”

“I’ll admit I was surprised to find you gone and not with us,” Boar grumbled.

Lilac blinked, registering the hurt tone in her brother’s voice. She refused to be sorry, especially after he had embarrassed and demeaned her ever since leaving the manor. “He made sure you were in good hands before running off after the person who attacked us. Him, a human,” she made sure to enunciate, “going after the likes of a hedge witch like Prue Stonewell. I wasn’t going to let him do that by himself.”

“That was very brave of you,” her brother said seriously. “We all know you get jittery in a fight, and still you ran off to help someone you don’t even like.”

“He’s our caretaker,” she mumbled.

“And now it’s our turn to take care of him.” Boar nodded. “Go. I’ll put Prue in the holding cell until she wakes up. Rose, you’re on tea duty. We all need something hot after this.”

“Forget the tea.” Rose snorted. “I’m making hot toddies à la Rose with lots of orange, honey, and enough cognac to knock out a moose.”

As her siblings diverted to their tasks, Lilac climbed the stairs at a sedate and measured pace until she could no longer hear them. Then, she lifted her skirts to her knees and pounded up the remaining steps and fled down the hall to Allen’s room. The poplar tree had set him down in the center of his bed and drawn the bed sheets and comforter up to his chin.

Trembling, Lilac approached and gently swept her fingers through his hair. It was surprisingly dry, his scalp warm.

Shifter heat.

The romantasy books of the mundane world always said they ran a bit hotter, and so much of their lore had already been correct.

The contrast of his heat and her cool fingertips sent a shiver down her spine. By the Green Mother, she was freezing. Her wet dress clung to every inch of her, not to mention her wet hair. She must look like a banshee post scream-fest or a selkie fresh from the ocean. In short, an absolute wreck.

Lilac glanced over her shoulder, chewing down on her bottom lip in thought. Her room was directly across from his, separated by two balcony railings and a vast amount of air, but it seemed impossibly far. He could wake at any moment, and she needed every second alone with him that she could get. She had to know his heart before the others found out what he was.

With a huff, she crossed over to his wardrobe and yanked out a navy-blue sweater and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms. Then she hustled to his adjoining bathroom.

The man was impeccably neat and sparse with his hygiene products. There was nothing superfluous, except for his small bottle of cologne, and everything was positioned in such a way for optimal use. Lilac made sure to put everything back just as she’d found it, a more challenging task than she originally thought since her brain couldn’t seem to function right after smelling his cologne. Smelling him, and reliving every memory they’d made in the attic in rapid-fire succession.