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I scanned the list of names, not recognizing any of them. But they were all female and likely belonged to other witches.

I offered a half-grin at Cerise’s smug expression, then lifted the parchment. “Good. We’ll start with this.”

Twenty-One

THE WITCH

Unfortunately, I didn’t recognize any of the names on Gran’s list. She was always so careful to shield me from that part of her life.

No, not shield me—keep secrets from me. I was coming to realize she did that more often than I thought.

The first name on the list was Geraldine Pine. I had no idea where to locate her, but Alaric was confident we would find her.

“I know where the witch encampment is,” he said as we made our way to the front door. At my confused expression, he added, “Reid and I always had to give that area a wide berth. Just to be safe.”

Ah, yes. Because witches hated Wolven Mages.

And we were about to waltz right into their encampment.

“How do we even know they’ll talk to us?” I asked as we left the cottage, making our way deeper into the forest. I tried not to look over my shoulder at my former home. This was likely the last time I would ever see it.

“They won’t talk to me. But I know they’ll talk to you.”

I tripped on a large root. Alaric’s hand shot out, gripping my elbow to keep me from falling flat on my face. “Me?” I sputtered. “Gran was outcast years ago. I would never be welcome among a clan of witches.”

“You’re a witch,” Alaric said. “They may not immediately like you, but you’re one of their kind.” He waved the piece of parchment in his hand. “Plus, if I’m correct in assuming these are the names of other witches, then perhaps your grandmother wasn’t as much of an outcast as she led you to believe.”

I frowned, considering this. Gran had made it clear we weren’t welcome among the witches. But she had never told me why. Was it because she had consorted with Wolven Mages? And if so, why was she still in contact with other witches?

Unless Gran wasn’t the only witch who had conspired to take down the Mage King.

Either way, it seemed the witches would be the best people to ask.

Alaric glanced up toward the darkening sky. The last rays of light were dipping below the horizon. “Damn. The attack with the Rogue threw off our schedule.” He let out a low hiss, his brows drawing together. “I was supposed to be back on the Isle by next Forenoon.”

“Why?” I asked.

Alaric wouldn’t meet my gaze. “Official business.”

I scoffed. “Right. Of course.” The words sounded more bitter than I intended.

Alaric and I weren’t friends. I was a witch, and he was a Wolven Mage. I was the granddaughter of the woman who had killed his king. Obviously, I had no right to ask him what he would be up to in the Isle. It had been wrong of me to pry. Irritation flared through me. I knew we weren’t friends. So, why was I disappointed?

I felt his probing gaze on me, but I kept my eyes fixed forward, determined to appear confident and at ease.

Then I promptly tripped over another root.

It snagged so hard on my foot that I twisted sideways, practically colliding with Alaric. He grabbed me, trapping me against his chest to keep me from falling. My eyes were wide, my heart lurching in my throat as I clung to his bare shoulders.

My breaths were coming in sharp and fast as I stared up at him, mouth open in surprise. With only one foot on the ground, I leaned fully against him for support. He had one arm at my waist and the other wrapped around my back. I was painfully aware that he was wearing nothing but the thin blanket from the cottage. His bare, muscular chest was warm underneath my hands.

We were so close that his earthy scent of spice and loam tickled my nose. Golden eyes drilled into mine, caging me in their iridescent depths. I found myself drawing imperceptibly closer to him, lured by the call of those luminescent eyes.

Mine, something within me whispered. It was a deep, primal part of me, as if it was coming from my very soul.

Mine, he seemed to whisper back.

My breath hitched, and a deep, aching need clenched in my core. I felt tethered to him, as if an invisible cord tugged me forward, closing the small distance between our faces. He leaned in, too, his hot breath mingling with mine.