Chapter 13

Aurora

THAT NIGHT, AFTER WE FINISH our meal of sweet herb stew with crunchy bread and lavender butter, Alden surprises me by not rushing out the door. I keep waiting for him to vanish, to throw those walls back up, but so far, he's surprised me.

And I'm even more shocked when I walk into the parlor after tidying up the kitchen to find Alden sitting on the floor in front of the hearth, Harrison right beside him. They both glance up at me as I stand in the doorway, looking a bit like they've been caught doing something mischievous.

With a little smile, I move across the parlor to Auntie's old rocking chair. I can still recall evenings sitting in her lap when I was very young, playing with her long hair and the beads she wore around her neck while she'd tell me stories or sing folk songs, the chair softly rocking all the while. Now as I take a seat and hear the familiar creak of the wood, I'm reminded of her, and it fills me with a mix of longing and love .

A little wicker basket sits beside the chair, and I reach down to pull my knitting from it. I'm working on mending the holes I got in my mittens this past winter, though I know I won't need them again until October or November when the air gets cold and the snow starts to fall.

With one leg tucked up under me and the bare toes of my other foot pressed against the floor, I send the chair gently rocking, trying not to let Harrison and Alden realize that I keep glancing up at them.

Harrison has never been particularly interested in getting to know anyone else, aside from Selene, of course. He and my mother are something akin to mortal enemies, and he didn't have a chance to meet Auntie before she passed, which saddens me, as I feel they would've been fast friends. So seeing him sit beside Alden like this, a few feet apart but still sharing the same space, gives me a blooming of warmth in my chest.

For a short while, the only sounds surrounding us are the creak of the rocking chair, the crackling of the fire, and the clinking of my knitting needles. Alden turns from where he's sitting on the floor, arms crossed over his knees, and glances back at me.

"Thank you," he says, voice so quiet I almost don't hear it.

I pause my knitting. "For what?"

Alden doesn't respond right away. He just stares at me, eyes looking heavy. The fire casts a warm glow across his bearded chin and sends shadows dancing on the parlor walls. Eventually, he says, "Everything."

Putting my knitting back into the basket, I stand from the rocking chair and join Harrison and Alden before the fire. Alden shifts so that I can lean my head against his shoulder, his long hair tickling my neck, and when I hold my hand out to Harrison, he walks over to join me, pressing his head into my palm.

"He seems okay," Harrison says, taking a seat before me and wrapping his tail around his paws. He stares up at Alden with his big green eyes. "I'm not sure I like him yet, but I sense a softness in him. He'll be kind to you."

"I think so too," I say softly. When I glance up at Alden's face, he's got a confused furrow in his brow.

"Are you talking to the cat?" he asks.

"Mm-hmm."

"And . . . does it talk back?"

I let out a small giggle while Harrison flicks his tail in annoyance.

"Yes, he does. Harrison and I are spirit companions; it allows us to communicate with each other in ways others can't."

Alden seems to mull over this for a moment.

"Seems a few sandwiches short of a picnic though, doesn't he?" Harrison says.

Lifting a hand to my mouth, I try to stifle my giggle.

"What's he saying now?" Alden asks.

I swear a little smile curls across Harrison's fuzzy white lips.

"He wants to know if you'd like to go on a picnic."

Now Harrison's green eyes are on me. "That is not what I said."

"Really?" Alden asks. "Hmm." He reaches up to scratch his beard, and the movement sends his comforting scent—like freshly split wood with a hint of evergreen—washing over me. "I didn't think he liked me. "

"I'm not sure I do yet."

The fire crackles, tossing light across the three of us, and I just smile.

A short time later, Harrison loses interest in us and heads upstairs, his little paws thumping on the stairs as he goes. I wiggle closer to Alden, and he turns his head to press a kiss into my hair. Reaching down, I trace the folds in his soft brown trousers with my pointer finger.

"Alden?" I whisper, feeling nervous about what I want to ask.

"Hmm?"

The fire sends up sparks as I gather my courage.

"Why have you been so lonely?"

The muscles in Alden's shoulder stiffen, and it takes a few moments for them to unwind. He lets out a long breath.

"I was to be wed," he says.

This makes me sit up and turn so I can look into his eyes.

"It was years ago," he clarifies. "Nothing recent."

With a sigh, I scoot around so I can face him, my legs draped to one side beneath my long cotton skirt. I pull his hand gently into my lap and turn it over, using the firelight to study the lines on his palm. I had a chiromancy course at the academy, but the divination method never clicked with me. Selene, though, is incredibly gifted at it. I try never to let her see my palms lest she tell me something I don't want to hear. Knowing her, she'd probably say things just to frighten me. Once a nettling older sister, always a nettling older sister.

"What happened?" I ask, not looking up to meet Alden's eyes. I feel braver looking down at his warm-brown skin against mine. "Is that okay for me to ask? "

"Of course it is." He lifts his hand from my lap to push a tendril of hair behind my ear. I capture his palm against my face, then turn my head so that I can press a kiss to each of his calloused fingers. When I've kissed each one, I take his hand in both of mine and hold it firmly.

Alden sighs.

"Her name's Belinda. We both grew up here."

There's a long pause. I don't push or rush him, instead taking the moment to feel the fire warming my cheek and the firmness of Alden's hand in mine. I could sit with him like this for days and not tire of it—though I'd certainly need some snacks and hot tea.

"We were childhood sweethearts, I guess you could say. Just took to each other." His lips just barely quirk up in the corner, making me wonder if he's remembering a fond memory of her. "I asked her to marry me, and she said yes. We were happy. Or I thought we were. But before we could have the ceremony, she said she wanted to move away, leave Faunwood for someplace bigger." He reaches up with his free hand to run his fingers through his long wild hair. "She wanted me to go with her, but I couldn't. This place runs through my veins. It's the only home I've ever known."

Feeling his hand tighten in mine, I begin stroking the backs of his fingers softly, soothingly. It seems to work, for he releases the fist he was starting to make, and his shoulders droop.

"I told her I couldn't leave, and she decided to leave without me. Went to Wysteria in search of a big life."

Gently, I whisper, "And did she find it?"

"As far as I know. Came back for Yule two years ago with a new husband and a child on the way. She seemed... happy. Content."

"Do you miss her?" I ask.

It takes Alden a moment to answer. While I wait, I turn his hand over and press my palm to his, marveling at how much smaller my hand appears nestled within his larger one.

"I don't think so," he says at long last. "What I miss is having someone. Someone to talk with, laugh with, bicker with. Gets lonely when it's just me and that cabin."

Finally, I find the strength to look into his eyes.

And he's staring right at me.

"Maybe . . ." I swallow down the lump in my throat and try again. "Maybe I could . . . be someone . . . for you."

Heat rushes into my cheeks, and I glance quickly away. But then Alden's warm hand is cupping my chin, tipping it up so I'll meet his striking dark eyes.

"Silly little witch," he whispers, leaning in so close our noses brush. "You already are."

And then he kisses me.