Chapter 11

Alden

WHEN I AWAKE IN THE morning, the air smells of apples and cinnamon. Sunlight streams through the parted drapes, turning the bedroom a cheerful shade of gold. I don’t need to look to my left to see that Aurora is no longer in bed; I can hear her down in the kitchen, moving about and clinking utensils.

With a yawn, I crawl from bed and pull on a fresh tunic and trousers. At the bonfire last night, Welma asked me to come by the library to see about building a few more bookshelves, and she’ll expect me by midday.

The floorboards are cool but not cold beneath my feet as I head down the creaking stairs and into the kitchen. As soon as I step through the doorway, I’m greeted with sunlight and warmth and Aurora’s beautiful freckled face.

“Good morning,” she says, sweeping over in her apron to press a kiss to my scruffy cheek.

“Morning.” I yawn again, then take a seat at the kitchen table. Harrison is sitting on it in a patch of sunlight, and when I offer him my hand, he allows me to scratch him behind the ear. Aurora glances over her shoulder at us, a tiny smile curling her pink lips.

“How’d you sleep?” she asks as she places a bowl of steaming porridge on the table in front of me. It’s sprinkled with rich cinnamon and dotted with fresh green apples.

“Like the dead.” My voice is scratchy with sleep, and Aurora quickly pours me a cup of tea and places it on the table beside my bowl. It’s common for her to get up early and make breakfast, but her energy feels off this morning, like it’s artificial, forced. I arch a brow at her. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” she says, but it’s slightly higher pitched than usual. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

It’s cute that she thinks she can fib to me. If only she knew how obvious it is, how her cheeks flush and her eyes flit back and forth.

With a sigh, I lean back in my chair and gesture to the seat across from mine. “Sit. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

The smile falls from Aurora’s face. She wrings the end of her apron in her hands as she sinks into the chair across from me.

“Harrison,” she says softly, eyes trained down on the tabletop, “would you mind giving us a moment?”

He looks at me, then back at her. I wonder what he’s thinking.

After meowing, he hops off the table and trots into the parlor.

Now I’m a bit concerned. What does she need to say that can’t be said in front of him?

Reaching for my tea, I grasp it and lift the mug to my lips. Aurora looks up at me as I breathe in the steam, and she gives me a small sad smile. It makes my stomach lurch.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

Aurora doesn’t answer me at first; she just stares down into her lap, where her fingers are still worrying at the hem of her apron.

“Aurora.” My voice is soft but coaxing, and she finally looks up and meets my eyes.

“I have to tell you something.” Her green eyes turn misty, and my chest squeezes. “I... I...”

It takes everything in me to have patience, to let Aurora work through whatever it is she needs to say. She’s starting to scare me.

Finally, she takes a deep trembling breath. “I made love with Rowan last night.” A single tear slips from her eye. “I don’t know what came over me. I was just so caught up in Beltane, and...” Shaking her head, she sighs. “I shouldn’t make excuses. I’m sorry.”

I let her words sink in for a moment, waiting for the sting of betrayal to settle in. But oddly, it doesn’t arise. As I sit here looking at my little green witch, tears shining on her cheeks and in her eyelashes, I can’t seem to cultivate anger.

“Do you care for him?” I ask.

She blinks at me, green eyes lit by the early-morning sun streaming through the kitchen window. “What?”

Reaching across the table, I offer her my hand. Slowly, she slips hers into mine. “Do you care for Rowan?”

Her hand is warm, and she twines her fingers with mine. “I... think I might.”

I turn her words over in my head, then ask the next question that comes to mind. “Do you still care for me?”

“Of course!” She says it with such vigor that she nearly leaps out of her chair. “I care deeply for you, Alden. You’re my... my home .”

Her words warm my heart and help unwind the tension in my chest.

I’ve been engaged, and I’ve been heartbroken. I know what it’s like to be left behind by someone you love. Promising yourself to another doesn’t mean they won’t hurt you, doesn’t mean they won’t decide you’re no longer what they want.

But if Aurora wants me and I want her, does it matter if she shares her heart with another?

“Do you have space enough in your heart for both of us?” I ask.

Her eyes remain lit with surprise.

And I’m no less surprised. If Belinda had raised the same conversation with me, I would’ve been a maelstrom of anger and hurt. But I’m not the same man that I was back then. Aurora helped heal the wound I cradled in my chest for years and years, and I won’t lose her over something like this.

Instead of answering me, Aurora slips out of her kitchen chair and into my lap. She perches on my knee, her hands coming up to cradle my face. And when she kisses me, it’s slow, soft. And in her kiss, I feel rather than hear the answers to all my questions.

Her hair is like silk against the backs of my fingers as I push it away from her face and tuck it behind her ear. “So long as you want me,” I whisper into her ear, “I’m here.” Then I pull away and arch a brow at her. “Even if it means sharing you with a bloody knight.”

Another tear slips from her summer-green eye, but she’s smiling now, and I can almost see her gloomy gray aura returning to its vibrant yellow shade. Maybe I’m learning something from my little witch.

I kiss the few remaining tears from her cheeks, and somehow, I still feel whole.

And I’m still wholly in love with her.