Chapter 18

Aurora

THE KITCHEN IS SO WARM that I have my hair tied back and a colorful scarf wrapped around my head to keep my skin cool as I bake. The coals smolder in the hearth as I finish my sourdough bread and slip it into a baking dish. Then I put the entire dish into the hearth and use tongs to cover it in coals. I’m determined not to burn this one; I want Alden and Rowan to have warm delicious bread to eat with dinner tonight.

The thought pulls me away from the hearth, and I glance out the kitchen window to see how things are coming along.

Alden graciously agreed to build Lucy a chicken coop, and Rowan insisted upon helping. I wasn’t sure how Alden would feel about having him here, but they seem to be getting along surprisingly well.

I can tell that Rowan isn’t quite sure what to do—I suppose he’s never built a henhouse before—but he keeps up with Alden well enough, assisting him with carrying long planks of wood and driving nails with a hammer as the sun beats down on them. They’re both shirtless, and I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been stealing glances out the window the entire time I’ve been baking.

Lucy and Harrison are outside as well. She plucks around in the garden while Harrison follows along after her, looking curious about the bugs she pecks from the soil around my plants.

With the bread in the coals, I have a moment to rest. I’ve been feeling tired the last few days despite getting plenty of sleep. After removing my apron and hanging it on the peg, I grab the big jar of lemonade I made earlier with lemons I picked up from Lydia’s mercantile, then carry it outside. As soon as I set my bare feet upon the earth, some of my tiredness eases, and I let out a slow breath.

Rowan glances over at me while I set the pitcher upon the table next to the garden. He’s holding a plank of wood in place while Alden drives nails through it—and thankfully not into his thumb.

They’re building the henhouse near the garden, where it’ll get plenty of sunlight, even in the winter. Lucy will be able to roost in it and get out of the weather, and it’ll eventually be encircled by a big fence so she’ll be safe from hungry woodland animals. And of course, she’ll get plenty of freedom to poke around the garden and property as well. Hopefully she’ll like living here.

“Want some lemonade?” I call to the men.

Alden drives one final nail, then hooks his hammer on his tool belt, and they both head in my direction. They have their long hair pulled back, and their skin—tawny brown for Alden, pale with pink undertones for Rowan—glistens with a sheen of sweat from the hot summer sun. Alden presses a sweaty kiss to my cheek, and I giggle and squirm away.

“How’s it coming along?” I ask as they sit at the garden table and wait for me to pour them two glasses. The lemonade shines in the sunlight, smelling tart and sweet from the honey I mixed into it.

“So far, so good,” Alden says, propping one elbow on the table as he turns to glance back at the partially constructed henhouse. “Another day and we’ll have it done.”

“Guess Lucy will be sleeping in the house again tonight,” I say as I offer them their glasses. “Not that she’ll complain.”

The men each take a glass with murmurs of thanks, and I smile proudly as they take their first few sips.

“This is delicious,” Rowan says, green eyes going wide.

“It’s my auntie’s recipe,” I say. “She used to make it for me and my sister when we were girls.”

“Older sister? Younger?” Rowan asks, and I realize we’ve not yet spoken of family to each other. Alden knows all about Selene, but I’m not sure I’ve ever so much as mentioned her name to Rowan.

“Older. She’s my only sibling. And she’s supposed to come visit for Samhain.”

Remembering fills me with a tingle of excitement. It’s been much too long since I last saw her. And it’s been even longer since she was at the cottage; I can’t wait to show her everything we’ve fixed up around here. She’s going to love it.

“What about you?” I ask, tipping my head at Rowan. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

A strange look comes over his face, and his eyes get a faraway look before he averts them from my gaze. “No. Just me.”

I watch him for a moment, waiting for him to say more, but he just sips his lemonade and stares off into the woods. Probably best I don’t pry; if he wants to share something, he will in time.

As the men take a much-needed break and enjoy their lemonade, I walk over to the henhouse. They’ve got the basic skeleton of the structure put together, but it still needs walls, a roof, and probably a bunch of other stuff only Alden knows about. Thank goodness for him and his carpentry skills; Brookside wouldn’t be the same without him.

Placing a hand on one of the planks of wood, I imagine what it’ll look like when it’s finished. I think I’ll paint it a happy color, probably light blue, like a beautiful summer sky. I think Lucy would appreciate it too.

With a small smile, I turn away from the henhouse, and a sudden rush of dizziness comes over me. Stumbling, I put a hand to my brow and close my eyes, willing the world to stop spinning around me.

“Aurora?” comes Rowan’s concerned voice.

But I’m still fighting off the dizziness and can’t yet open my eyes.

Boots thump hurriedly through the fresh grass, and then there’s a hand on my low back.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Rowan asks.

“I...” Slowly, I open my eyes. Rowan is standing beside me, a concerned crease in his brow. Alden has put his lemonade down and looks ready to run over and catch me if need be. “I’m not sure. A wave of dizziness just came over me.”

“You should sit down,” Alden says.

“I need to go check the bread first.”

Without another word, Rowan stoops and sweeps me into his arms. I let out a surprised breath, then wrap my arms around his neck. He’s firm and warm, his arms like sturdy branches as he carries me toward the cottage.

Before Rowan can ask, Alden goes to the kitchen door, and he holds it open so Rowan can carry me into the kitchen. It smells deliciously of sourdough, and my stomach grumbles at the thought of a fresh slice.

“Have you been eating enough?” Alden asks, stepping into the kitchen behind us as Rowan eases me into a chair at the kitchen table.

“I think so. I’ve been a bit tired lately, but that’s all. I think it’s from the heat.”

Alden crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at me as Rowan fetches the mitts and pulls my baking dish out of the coals. When he removes the lid, a rush of steam rises up and curls around his face.

“Looks perfect,” he announces. “Where do you want it?”

“There,” I say, pointing to the place on the counter I already prepared for it. He moves the dish, and I let out a long sigh, feeling the tiredness creep back up on me.

“Perhaps we should take you to see Niamh,” Alden suggests.

In addition to being our oracle, she’s our healer as well. I remember going into her apothecary when I was a girl, remember all the tiny glass vials filled with ground herbs and shimmering powders I had no names for. I’ve not yet stepped foot into her shop since I returned to Faunwood.

“I’m not sure that’s necessary,” I say, casting Alden a comforting smile. He looks so troubled, standing there looking down at me with his arms crossed. “But if it keeps up, I’ll pay her a visit.”

Alden’s response is little more than a grumble.

“How about a bite to eat, then?” Rowan offers. He’s already carefully removing the loaf from the dish, and the fresh-baked bread continues to steam in the golden sunlight streaming through the window.

“Let it cool for a moment,” I tell him. “I could use a glass of lemonade though.”

Rowan eases past Alden, then out the door, going to fetch the pitcher from the table beside the garden. After the door whispers closed behind him, Alden crosses the small kitchen and sinks into the chair across from me. His brow is still furrowed, and he reaches out to take one of my hands in his. I trace his skin with my thumb, lingering on the calluses from his hard carpentry work.

“You’ll tell me if the dizziness continues?” he asks, dark brown eyes so intense it’s as if they cast a spell over me, holding me in place.

Maybe he’s a warlock and doesn’t even know it.

I curl my fingers through his, then lean forward to press a kiss to the wrinkle in his brow, hoping to smooth it out. “I promise.” Sitting back, I smile at him and use my free hand to brush a smudge of dirt from his temple. “I’m certain I’ll feel better soon.”