CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Excitement skitters through me as I pull Sturrm along, taking two steps for every one of his.

As much as my magic told me he was fine, to have him awake fills me with joy. He’s done so much for me, taken care of me every step of our journey, that the thought of doing something special for him hastens my steps.

We circle the wide trunk of another heart tree cottage, the magical homes yet one more amazing thing to love about the village. Sturrm told me all about them during our travels, but it didn’t do justice to how lovely and cozy they are or to the feeling of life and magic they wrap you in like a big blanket hug.

It’s that perfect time of evening that Sturrm told me he likes best. Everyone in the village has stopped work for the day, and the fading light of evening is just enough to let you see your way around easily. I always thought I was a big city girl, but no longer. In only two days, I feel more at home here than I have in years. Part of it’s the magic, the way it speaks to the power that runs through me. The other part is the people.

We round the last cottage, and the village green opens before us with a crowd waiting. Dash stands with a few other unicorns, most of them a bright white with silver manes, tails, and horns. Bella waits with her brother, Drake, who’s green like their mother and already far larger than Bella’s six-feet, even if he is younger. He teases her about her small size constantly, but she gives as good as she gets, making it clear she has much better control over her dragon fire.

In addition to our animal friends, orcs cover the open area, the entire village turning out to welcome us. A group of human women stand near the front, their husbands towering behind them.

Wooden tables and chairs dot the large, open area, brought outside from the pub. Glow stones hang all around like party lights, and more of them dangle from the chains of the Whirling Swings ride Grace conjured into being. It stands right in the center of the open space, and she told me all about how it offers protection from sluagh attacks coming from the sky. But most of the time, it gets used for its original purpose—a ride that makes the children shriek in delight.

Sturrm comes to an abrupt halt, his eyes darting around. “What is this?”

“It’s a welcome home party.”

“For me?”

I hate the disbelief in his voice, his inability to believe anyone would value him. That’s not the feeling I get from the people here at all. Those who knew him from years ago are glad to have him home, a son of the village who honorably served their king. Others are happy for his strong arm, so good in a fight. And everyone agrees his singing is the best in the village. I got all the gossip when I went to Reta, the head weaver, to get new clothes. My healing magic took care of a touch of ligament strain she suffered in her wrists, and she told me everything I could ever want to know.

Including that Sturrm needs to reestablish a relationship with his parents. They stand to the side, an older pair of orcs, still tall and strong with muscle. A touch of old pain pinches the skin around his mother’s eyes, but his father looks at him with pride.

I place my hand on his lower back and give him a little shove in their direction. “Go say hi.”

He leaves right as Ashley and the other human witches reach me.

“Hiii!” The pretty redhead throws her arms around me in a tight hug, her plumpness making it comfy and soft and so, so good. Ashley gives the best hugs. “Do you think he likes it? I thought I was an expert on reading grumps, but I think I’m only an expert on Dravarr.” She throws a fond glance toward her husband, the clan’s warlord, her light face suffused with happiness.

“He better,” Taylor says, coming in for a hug. Tiny and full of energy, the brunette gives me an infectious grin, a smile lighting her tan face. “Or I’ll lift him into one of the swings, and Grace can start the ride.”

I laugh, picturing her using her telekinesis power to get Sturrm on the carnival ride.

“Just say the word, and I’ll start up the old girl,” Grace says, hooking a thumb toward the Whirling Swings. The tall, pale blonde offers me a quick hug, a bit shier than the other women.

“Nope!” Olivia says, pulling me in for a hug. She’s taller than me, her tan skin a little more olive, but we have really similar hair. “First, we eat!”

“Yes!” As much as I love being a healer—my magic is a lifelong dream come true—Olivia’s ability to conjure food is really amazing. Ay! I’ve already had far too many Cuban espressos than is probably good for me, but they fueled me through putting this party together. No regrets.

In only a couple of days, these women are already friends. They welcomed me so completely it made my head spin. “We’re the only humans in Alarria, but it’s more than that,” Ashley said when we first met. “We’re witches. We share a bond. Can’t you feel it?”

I closed my eyes and felt for her and the others, and something tingled at the edge of my awareness. The goddess’s lullaby filled my mind, and I hummed it.

“Wait!” Ashley said. “You know that song? I know it, too!” She hummed the next bit .

“I heard it, too,” Taylor said. “When the goddess brought me here.”

Olivia nodded agreement, but Grace frowned. “I wasn’t conscious for the trip.”

Taylor patted her arm. “You got here okay. That’s what’s important.”

“Do you know what the words mean?” I asked Ashley.

“Words? I don’t know any words, just the tune.”

I sang it for her, ending by saying, “The dragons are looking for a translation.”

“That will be wonderful. The Moon Goddess is trying to tell us something. I just know it.”

The bubbly redhead tucks her hand into my arm, pulling me back into the present. “Let’s eat!”

Several wooden tables have been pushed together to make a long one. The women settle along it, their orc husbands by their sides. As much as I want to be right in the middle of all of them, tonight has a different purpose. I go over to where Sturrm stands with Wranth, talking to his parents. When they start to turn away to head to a different table, I blurt, “Luva, Karrn, won’t you sit with us?”

His mother’s eyes widen for a moment.

“Please do,” Sturrm adds.

Luva offers him a little smile.

The five of us sit at the end of the table, Sturrm sandwiched between me and Wranth, his parents across from us.

Olivia claps her hands, and magic ripples through the air, a circular serving of causa appearing on every plate. “This first course is in honor of our new clan mate Selena. It’s a traditional potato dish from her home country.”

When you mention Peruvian food, everybody always thinks of ceviche—and don’t get me wrong, I love a good ceviche as much as the next girl—but it’s not comfort food. No, that would be Abuelita’s causa. You can’t beat a mashed potato casserole layered with tuna salad and sliced avocado and flavored with lime and aji chilis. Or my other favorite, which is potatoes topped with spicy cheese sauce. Yep, all of my comfort foods are potato. Sue me.

“It’s spicy!” I call out, pretty sure they don’t have bright-yellow aji peppers in this part of Alarria. “You’re all warned.”

“I want to try spicy,” Bella says from behind me.

Not to be outdone, Drake says, “Me too!”

Olivia conjures them both a portion easily. I gave each of the women one of the red crystals, so they can use their powers more than ever without burning out.

Bella gulps her causa down in one big bite, then burps a small puff of smoke. “Hmm, it’s like fire in my mouth. I like it.”

Dash lips the avocado slices off the top of his and licks up some of the spicy mashed potatoes, stopping before he can uncover the tuna salad layer. He pushes his plate over to Bella. “You have it. I don’t do fish. I’m not a kelpie.”

I grin and turn back to Sturrm, who lifts a forkful of spicy mashed potatoes, tuna salad, and avocado to his lips. He chews thoughtfully, a frown of concentration barely denting his brow. His voice is serious, ringing with sincerity in that way he has. “I like it. ”

“Good. Because it’s one of my faves.”

I scoop up a bite, making sure to get something from each layer, and shove it into my mouth, moaning as the comforting taste coats my tongue. Dios mio, it’s just like Abuelita used to make, taking me right back to my childhood and the last truly happy time in my life. It feels very right to share this with him and everyone here in my new home.

He continues to eat, but his free hand finds my thigh under the table, his fingertips digging in as if to remind himself all of this is real.

I curl my hand around his, eager to allay his doubts, hating that he still has them. I squeeze his big, strong fingers, saying silently—I’m here, I’m yours, and I’m here to stay.