Chapter 24

Aurora

“WE NEED A HORSE,” ALDEN grumbles as we walk slowly down the dirt path into Faunwood. He holds my hand tight in his, our fingers twined together. He offered to carry me, then almost convinced me to ride in his cart, but I insisted I’m fine walking. The trip is feeling longer than normal, though, and I had to stop once more to throw up in the bushes, but now we’re very nearly there, and perhaps one of the villagers will be kind enough to give me a ride back to Brookside.

My stomach is still turning, and I grip Alden’s hand a bit harder as another wave of nausea crashes over me. Thankfully, it subsides without me having to run into the tree line.

There’s only one thing I can think of that would cause these symptoms, but it shouldn’t be possible, not with how attentively I track my cycles.

I lift my free hand to my mouth and nibble on my thumbnail, lost in thought. Alden squeezes my hand reassuringly, and I glance up and offer him a warm smile.

Faunwood is alive with activity when we finally step foot onto the cobbled streets. People walk this way and that, drifting into and out of shops, getting on with their errands and work for the day. Rowan is around here somewhere, but I don’t see any flashes of his gleaming silver armor, though that’s probably a good thing. He has work to do, and if he saw me here with Alden, looking queasy and wobbly, he’d want to be right here beside me, holding my free hand. Best he not know until after we’ve had a chance to speak with Niamh.

Niamh’s apothecary is right across from the market square and little more than a stone’s throw from the mercantile and the guardhouse. I can already smell the warm aroma of frankincense and myrrh wafting from the tiny open windows on either side of the black door. Plants creep up the exterior of the building and curl around the doorway; one tendril even reaches out to touch my hair as Alden opens the door and ushers me through.

Inside, the air is balmy. The entire front room is packed with glass vials filled with herbs, tinctures, and powders. The vials crowd shelves along the walls and twinkle on displays throughout the shop. Seeing everything takes me back to my childhood, reminding me of Auntie and our trips into the village. She and Niamh would laugh and chat while I drifted through the shop, admiring the colorful bottles and wondering at the powers they possessed. Those memories make me smile now, though a deep ache lingers in my chest.

Only a few months until Samhain . . .

A tinkling of bells announces Niamh’s presence. She stands in the doorway to the back room, where she did her divination when I was a child. Tendrils of incense smoke curl in the air behind her. Her long black hair is loose today and puffs out around her like a beautiful dark halo. A pair of rectangular spectacles hangs from a chain around her neck, and a dusting of golden powder makes her cheekbones gleam.

“Alden, Aurora.” She offers us a warm smile. “Please come in.” Lifting a hand, she beckons us into the room.

“You know why we’re here?” Alden asks, placing a hand on my back as we follow Niamh through the parted curtains hanging in the doorway.

Niamh’s only response is a small knowing smile.

“Take a seat, Aurora,” she says, the bracelets on her wrist clinking together as she gestures to the round tea table in the center of the room.

I sink into a chair at the table while Alden perches on the edge of the couch, looking very much like he has no idea what to do with himself now that we’re here. He clasps and unclasps his hands in his lap, then leans forward to brace his forearms on his knees.

Niamh frees the curtains from their hooks, and they fall closed with a whisper. She then turns and crosses the small room to a counter laden with teacups and herbs.

“Peppermint okay?” she asks, but when she glances back at me over her shoulder, I have a feeling the question is for sake of decorum; she already knows I’m going to say yes.

“Please.” I place my hands in my lap and grip my soft cotton skirt when my stomach turns with nausea.

The fresh smell of peppermint fills the small space, and Niamh carries the steaming cups over on a tray. She places two on the table, then hands one to Alden as well.

“It’ll calm your nerves,” she tells him.

He nods once, lips pressed into a firm line and forehead furrowed. The cup looks so tiny and breakable in his large hands; it makes me smile.

With a rustle of fabric, Niamh takes a seat across from me. “Now,” she says softly, wrapping her slender dark fingers around her dainty blue teacup, “tell me why you’re here.”

Between sips of warm peppermint tea, I tell her about the fatigue and the dizziness and now the nausea. She just listens and hums softly, nodding while I speak. And when I’m done telling her everything, she holds out a hand.

“May I see your cup?” she asks.

I hand it to her and realize what she’s going to do: tasseography, a method of divination using tea leaves. It’s yet another form of divination I’ve never been skilled at.

She settles her spectacles upon the bridge of her nose and leans forward to study the leaves at the bottom of my cup, tipping it this way and that. Alden looks from her to his teacup worriedly, as if he wants no part of her reading his leaves.

“As I thought,” she says, sitting back and removing her spectacles with a small smile. “But you already know why you’re here, don’t you?”

I avert my eyes and twine my fingers in my lap. “I’ve an idea, but... I don’t know how it could be possible.” Forcing my gaze to hers, I hold her dark stare. “I track everything, and I’ve been mindful. How could this be?”

“Brigid,” she says, voice light and gentle. Draping one elbow over the back of the chair, she crosses her legs and tips her head at me. “I told you on Beltane that she has tricks up her sleeve. It seems she played one on you, my dear.”

My hand drifts to my stomach, and for a moment, I find myself speechless.

This is going to change my life. This is going to change everything .

“ On Beltane?” I ask Niamh, enunciating carefully.

“Yes. During the Rite.”

The Rite. When I was with Rowan.

“I don’t understand,” Alden says from the couch beside me, drawing my attention. “What’s going on?” Worry simmers in his brown eyes.

Reaching out, I place a hand on Alden’s knee. He tenses up under my touch, and I hold his dark gaze as I whisper, “I’m pregnant.”