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I wait for her to ask another question, but she continues gazing up at me through hurt eyes.
“Will you banish me again?” I ask.
When Alienor lowers her lashes, my heart plummets to the ground.
“I want to protect you,” I say. “If you send me back, I won’t be able to come to your rescue.”
“Alright,” she whispers. “I won’t try it again.”
My heart trails somewhere close to the ground, weighing down my spirits like an anchor. The muscles around my wings ache with the effort of staying airborne.
She doesn’t trust me.
Of course, she wouldn’t. I am the reason she was attacked by the dead necromancer. I am probably also the reason why I can touch her despite the locket.
“They took my magic away,” she murmurs.
“I am sorry.”
“It was never mine to begin with.”
My brow furrows, and it’s on the tip of my tongue to ask what she means, when she asks, “Where are you taking me?”
“Your old home.” I point down at the street of terraced cottages.
“Oh,” she says, completely devoid of expression.
She must still be traumatized. It probably doesn’t help that the man who saved her from the dead necromancer is her biggest tormentor.
I land in the paved yard at the back of her home, between two large pots of chamomile flowers, and my wings fall close with a painful snap.
Pressing my hand on the doorframe, I slip my shadows into her house and twist them around the latch. My magical reserves are so low that it takes several seconds for the door to unlock. When it clicks, I turn the handle and open the back door.
“Is this how you used to sneak into my house?” she asks.
Grimacing, I clear my throat, the back of my neck itching with shame. As I carry Alienor through the threshold of her home, my brain conjures up an answer she might find acceptable.
“When I reduce my body to shadow, I can penetrate most magical barriers. One of the benefits of being a shapeshifter.”
“Of course,” she replies in that monotone. “You were also the hound.”
“About that—”
“Don’t,” she says.
I raise my brows and wait for her to explain.
“It’s one thing to apologize for a mistake, like how you harassed me because you thought I was your wife, but you abused my trust.”
Alienor wriggles out of my grip, her palms shoving against my shoulders. I set her on her feet and hold out my arms, ready to catch her as she sways.
She whirls on me, her eyes flashing. “I thought I’d attracted a familiar.”
My brow furrows. No matter how much I know about witches, some things about them are utterly mysterious.
“Are you talking about pets?”
“They’re rare, lifelong companions of witches.” Her voice thickens. “For once in my life, I didn’t feel alone.”
