Chapter 4

Aurora

"HE WASN'T THAT BAD," HARRISON says, sitting on a downed tree stump while I hang his wispfish over the fire, arranging each fish so they're in the smoke but not the flames.

"He was that bad! Did you even hear him?"

"Of course I did. I have impeccable hearing." He flicks his ears as if to make a point, and I arch a brow at him.

"Then you should know how rude he was."

Remembering the way Alden leaned in the doorway, looking bored and annoyed at my presence, makes a little flame ignite inside me. I bristle again and wipe my hands on my apron with more force than necessary.

"As long as he patches the holes," Harrison says, gaze locked on the fish as they hang in the smoke, "what does his attitude matter?"

"Because he was rude ! You don't think that matters?"

Harrison doesn't reply; he just licks his lips and swishes his fluffy white tail .

"Fine." I turn to walk away. "Those are going to take a few hours. Are you going to sit here and watch them the whole time?"

Harrison doesn't turn to look at me, just flicks his tail again. "Yes."

I grumble under my breath, then stomp back through the undergrowth to the cottage, feeling way angrier than is probably necessary.

But Alden's face, with his dark eyes and scruffy beard, won't get out of my head. I keep seeing that look in his eyes, the look that said he really didn't want to talk to the little witch standing at the foot of his porch stairs, and it just makes me angry all over again.

THE NEXT DAY, I'M IN somewhat better spirits. I finished smoking all the wispfish, so Harrison will have something to eat for the next few days, and then we'll have to walk back into Faunwood and hope the fisherman has more.

Yesterday, I used my irritation with Alden to power through the cleaning of the upper floor in the cottage, and it's looking habitable again. I still need a new mattress, which I hope someone in Faunwood will be able to help me with, but apart from that and the glaring hole in the roof, the upstairs is in rather good condition.

By some stroke of luck, it hasn't yet snowed, but the smell in the air tells me a storm could be on the way. Hopefully Alden agrees to help me once he sees the state my home is in .

After having a slice of bread and some mint tea, I head outside to get started on the garden. The path is overgrown, as is everything around the cottage, and the gate is tangled in so many plants and vines that I have to rip them all away before I can even pull it open. It squeals on its hinges, but finally, I step into the garden.

My hands go to my hips as I survey the damage. Everything is buried in years' worth of dead plants, pine needles, and leaves from the aspens standing at the forest line. But the raised beds seem to be in decent condition, and Auntie's copper gardening tools are in the shed, so they've not been lost to the elements or carried away by curious forest sprites.

This'll be a good project to tackle today. It'll give me something to do with my hands to keep from worrying about Alden and his grumpy demeanor.

I grab a pair of gardening gloves from my trunk inside, fetch the big clippers from the shed, and then get started. The air is crisp, and it keeps me cool while I trim and rip and yank. As I work, I toss the dead foliage over the garden fence, piling it up to later turn into compost for the beds. Moisture gathers on my forehead, and I dab it away with my scarf, then keep going. I've almost cleared a path to the first garden bed when a voice behind me makes me jump and let out a little yelp.

Whipping around, I find Alden and Lydia standing in front of the cottage. Lydia is smiling at me, big brown eyes gleaming as her thick curls blow in the breeze, but Alden is giving me that same expression from yesterday, as if he wishes he were anywhere but here. He's wearing trousers with boots, a long-sleeved tunic, and a rugged cloak. Beside him, Lydia is dressed in simple winter skirts, a lace-up blouse, and a pretty emerald-green cloak. Seeing them together, I notice they both have the same curly brown hair.

"Sorry for scaring you," Lydia says as I peel off my gardening gloves and head back down the overgrown path to meet them.

"It's fine. I was so lost in my thoughts, I didn't hear you walk up." I smile, but Alden doesn't smile back. "Good day, Alden," I say, just to see what he does.

His only response is a grunt, and then his dark-eyed gaze shifts away from me and to my cottage. It takes but a moment for him to say, "Your veranda is about to cave in."

Lydia and I turn to look at it. From here, it certainly looks like it's leaning to one side, as if it's stumbling home after too many tankards of strawberry wine at the tavern.

"That's just the start," I say, letting out a little sigh. "Would you like to come in?"

"We'd love to!" Lydia says. Her gaze cuts to Alden, one brow arching in the corner. "Wouldn't we?"

I'm not surprised by his grunt this time.

I lead the way to the cottage, noting the crease of concern in Alden's forehead as he steps onto the porch.

"It's been years since my auntie moved out, as I'm sure you know," I say as we step into the foyer, "so the cottage finds itself in need of some extra care."

Alden's massive frame makes the foyer look tiny. He steps into the parlor, a furrow forming in his brow when he looks up at the hole in the roof .

"There's another hole upstairs, in the bedroom," I tell him. "And I think the floorboards in the kitchen might be on their last leg."

"Hmm," is all Alden has to say. He eases past me, his arm brushing mine in the narrow foyer, and I'm surprised at the tingle of heat the small touch sends through me.

He steps through the doorway into the kitchen, and Lydia and I follow behind him. When I glance through the doorway, I find Alden testing the floorboards with a foot, narrowing his eyes at the resounding squeak. Harrison sits on the table nearby, swishing his tail, watching Alden with big green eyes.

"He's a very large human," he says to me.

I don't respond. Only I can hear what Harrison says; everyone else just hears a chorus of meows.

"These floorboards could use replacing. As could that doorframe." Alden juts his chin toward the door that leads out to the garden on the side of the house.

I hadn't noticed before, but he's right: the frame is giving way in places, the wood deteriorating, probably from rain and snow leaking through.

Without another word, he moves past me and Lydia and climbs the stairs to the second floor. We don't follow.

"Sorry about him," Lydia says, voice low. "He puts off a rough exterior, but he's got a good heart."

Listening to Alden's boots cross the floor above me, I step into the kitchen and fetch a mug for Lydia from the shelf. "Are you two...?" I ask, glancing back at her as I pull a few dried mint leaves from a glass jar and drop them into her mug .

A look of confusion crosses Lydia's face, and then she gasps. "Oh, goodness no!" She laughs and covers her mouth with a hand. "He's my older brother. Sorry, I should have explained."

For some reason, hearing that makes me a smidge excited. I'd assumed they were husband and wife, but now that I know they're siblings, the resemblance makes sense.

"Sugar in your tea?" I ask, and Lydia nods. I pour hot water from the kettle sitting over the crackling fire in the kitchen hearth, then add a spoonful of sugar and stir it in well. "Here you go."

"Thank you." She accepts it with a grateful smile, and then we both take a seat at the wooden table. Harrison hops down and trots off, perhaps to see what Alden is up to.

"Careful, the table rocks a bit," I say, and Lydia laughs.

"Alden can help with that too." She casts her gaze around the kitchen, gaze becoming a bit dreamy. "It's been years since I was last in here. Your aunt used to have me over for tea and biscuits sometimes. She was a good woman."

A mixture of love and sadness swirls in my chest. "She was. I miss her very much."

"I'm sorry for your loss." Lydia offers me a hand, and I reach out to take it, appreciating the warmth radiating from her tawny-brown skin.

"Thank you."

As Lydia takes her first sip of tea, boots sound out on the stairs, and I turn in my chair to see Alden step through the doorway into the kitchen. His dark eyes meet mine, and a rush goes through me. With the sun streaking through the freshly cleaned kitchen window, I notice how deep the color of his irises is, like the richest earth mixed with tiny flecks of gold.

"The roof will need patched, but the floor is sound. The window frames need replacing in both rooms as well."

For a moment, all I can do is stare at him. Why didn't I realize yesterday how... pretty he is? Probably because I was so nettled by him. I'm still nettled by him. But maybe just a smidge less so.

His bushy brows pull low over his eyes.

"Aurora?" Lydia says.

I snap out of it, tearing my gaze from Alden's. "Sorry, just lost in thought. Um..." I put a hand on the kitchen table to stand, and it rocks suddenly, spilling Lydia's tea. "Oh! I'm so sorry." I hurry across the kitchen and grab a cloth from beside the basin. "I told you that table wobbles."

Lydia laughs as I mop up the spilled tea. Still standing in the doorway, Alden crosses his massive arms but doesn't say anything. Once I've got the sugary mint tea cleaned up, I ball the cloth in my hands and turn to face Alden.

"I'd appreciate your help around here, if you're available."

Alden reaches up to scratch his scruff again, just like he did yesterday, but this time it makes me wonder what his beard would feel like if I were to run my fingers through it.

"I'm available."

I perk up. "Oh, thank you! I've got eldertokens, and I'll pay you well for all your help."

"Oh, don't you worry about that," Lydia says, standing from the wobbly kitchen table. "Alden is happy to help our new neighbor. Right, brother? "

The crease in Alden's brow hints otherwise, but he doesn't say anything.

"When can you get started?" I ask.

After a brief moment of consideration, Alden says, "Day after tomorrow."

And I'll admit a bit of a thrill goes through me. I just hope the snow will hold out until then.

I walk them back through the house and to the front porch, and just as we're about to say goodbye, Lydia gasps.

"I almost forgot. We hold an Ostara festival every year, and I was wondering if you'd like to join us."

I blink in surprise, then smile. "I'd love to."

"Oh, good! You like baking, right?"

She's probably assuming as much because of the baking goods I purchased at the mercantile yesterday. "I do. Can I bring something to the festival?"

"How about some loaves of bread? Say... twenty?"

My eyes widen, but I quickly rein my expression in. "Sure, I can do that."

"Wonderful." Lydia claps her hands, then reaches out and takes Alden by the arm.

He's looking at me through narrowed eyes, his gaze so intense I fidget a bit beneath his stare.

"Thank you, Aurora! I'll see you soon, I'm sure." Lydia lifts a hand in farewell, then tugs Alden away, and I watch them as they walk down the dirt path and disappear into the woods, cloaks drifting in the breeze behind them.

"I saw that," Harrison says from behind me, and I turn to find him sitting on the porch railing .

"Saw what?"

"The way you were looking at that man."

Pushing my hair over my shoulder, I turn on my boot heel and stride toward the garden. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Harrison flicks his tail at me. "Sure you don't."