Page 85 of A Wolf for Winter

He shook his head. “I’m not talking about that. I . . . As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t have done this job without you, Allen. Your counsel and perspective were . . . needed. More than I thought. I don’t ever want to be one who is feared instead of loved.”

Swallowing thickly, Boar turned to his sisters. “In truth, I couldn’t have done this without any of you. The Power of Three is more than a trio of coven witches combining their efforts to accomplish something greater than one can achieve alone. I’d thought that was just about spellcasting, not . . . life. Not leadership.

“A-and I’m sorry. I’ve treated you like underlings instead of as my peers, my own siblings. You especially, Lilac.” Boar looked like he meant to reach for her, but he kept his hands at his sides, shoulders hunching. “Do you think you can forgive me? M-maybe not tonight, or even tomorrow, but eventually?”

She let go of Allen’s hand and approached her brother, but she didn’t touch him. “You wronged me in so many ways, Boar, all because of your vanity. Your selfishness, your blind obsession to uphold the Hawthorne name no matter the cost.”

He flinched under her words, but he didn’t deny the truth of them.

“But I’ll forgive you everything, in time, if you keep your word. If you protect Allen.”

“You have it,” he said hoarsely. “You both do.”

“Then it’s a start.” She returned to Allen’s side, taking hold of his hand once more.

“And my name is Allen Chase,” he announced. Rose and Boar shared a wild look, realization crossing their faces at the same time.

“Like—” they both began.

“Yep. Lewellyn’s my older brother.” Allen glanced at the trees in the direction of Hawthorne Hall and stamped his bare feet to get some feeling back into them. “We have a few more minutes before we get back to the Hall. Let’s get you two up to speed, okay?”

When they arrived at the Hall, the windows were dark and the sounds of merriment had ceased. The wards shivered in warning as Allen approached, the opal ring on his pinky finger twinkling madly.

“Hawthornes,” he warned, releasing Lilac’s hand and lowering into a crouch. “Stay behind me.”

The double doors burst open, and three witches he recognized from the dossier strode out: blond-haired weather witch Stag Hawthorne, the siblings’ father; Robin Hawthorne, his first cousin through marriage; and Lily Hawthorne, Robin’s wife. While Stag excelled in manipulating the weather, Robin and Lily’s talents lay with the earth.

Even through all the packed snow, Allen felt it vibrating under his feet, awaiting its masters’ commands.

There was more movement within the Hall, and Prue Stonewell and Zofia Hollyoak emerged, coming to stand beside Stag. The hedge witch gripped her witch’s knot, and with it, she levitated an unconscious Talia beside her. The practitioner was wrapped in what looked like threads of glowing green silk.

“Father,” Boar acknowledged, his chin lifted.

The witch’s blue eyes were like chips of ice as he regarded his offspring. They flicked to Allen, noting his bare feet and lack of clothes other than the cloak, and landed on Drake, snaking up the bluish-green markings on his bare forearms.

“Magic hunter,” Stag cried. “Robin, Lily!”

The earth erupted around Drake, sealing him in a cocoon of soil and roots all the way up to his neck. As ordered, he didn’t retaliate, though his eyes went wide. Robin and Lily shared a suspicious glance, then tightened the cocoon.

“He’ll tell you everything you want to know,” Lilac said quickly, “but—”

“Of course he will,” Robin snorted. “That happens when you’re being crushed to death.”

“But—”

“We’ve got it from here, dear,” Lily said.

“You will listen to me!” Lilac thundered.

All but Zofia, Boar, Rose, and Allen took a step back in surprise. Allen just looked at his mate with pride.

“I am not the woman you think I am,” she told them in a calmer voice, but it was still as sharp as fractured glass. “I am not Grandmother’s creation. I am a potions master, and a good one too. That”—she pointed to Drake—“is Drake Morton, a magic hunter and someone I’ve dosed with a powerful love potion. He will tell you anything you want to know, but the effects will not last. We must be quick.”

“Lilac, honey, no love potion is that potent,” Stag said, his voice strained for patience. “Robin, Lily, take—”

Lilac crossed her arms over her chest. “Drake, tell them what you’re doing here, as succinctly as you can, if you please.”

“Right away, my love,” the brute of a man said, a wistful note in his gravelly voice. “I was sent here to keep the Hawthornes out of my master’s business in Redbud by any means necessary. It was clear the easiest path was to sow discord between you and Cailleach Lodge. By stealing Boar, Rose, and my dear Lilac’s magic and framing their deaths on the hedge witches, the remaining Hawthornes would be embroiled in a blood war.”