Chapter 9
Hanna
Sneaking out of your own apartment should not be some kind of impossible feat that needed an action movie level of planning. But then again, most people didn’t live next to a coven of nosy witches who treated the concept of privacy as if it was theoretical instead of a valid need by most adults.
The hallway outside of my door was pitch-dark except for the faint blue flow of ward-light that had been added ever since I’d been taken. I called it overkill, my coven called it basic necessities.
I moved slowly, clutching a loaf of cinnamon bread in one hand and my shoes in the other. If anyone caught me barefoot in the middle of the night, they’d assume that I was doing something scandalous.
And I mean, I sort of was. It just involved less kissing the handsome orc and more bothering him than was polite.
I eased my door shut with a soft click. Perfect. As silent as a spell.
Then someone’s familiar voice whispered from the next apartment, “Where are you sneaking off to, Hanna?”
I startled so hard I nearly dropped the bread. “Nowhere!”
There was a moment of pause, and then Floria’s door creaked open.
Just enough for me to see one sleepy eye blinking blearily at me.
“You only use that voice when you’re lying.
Or baking at three a.m.” Her eyes darted to the cinnamon bread in my hands and then flickered back to me, narrowing with suspicion. “Or both.”
“It’s… uh… rooftop ventilation inspection night,” I told her, aiming for the easiest lie I could find.
Floria blinked that single eye again before squinting it at me. “That’s not a thing.”
“It is if you care about proper potion airflow,” I sniffed, haughtily.
Another door opened. Zara, the high witch of our coven, peered outside, her hair a mess of sex-tousled curls, but her eyes gleaming. “Is this about a certain orc again?” she demanded, grinning at me with a manic light in her eyes.
This doesn’t bode well for me, I can already tell.
“You do realize that he’s my best friend and I have an in with him if you need it, right?”
“Lower your voice,” I hissed, shushing her.
“Stop talking about other orcs,” her mate’s voice called with a yawn from inside her apartment. She rolled her eyes, waving a hand behind her as if that was going to stop him from eavesdropping.
From across the hall, Tabitha’s groggy voice called, “Tell him to fix those loose tiles over my balcony while you’re up there! The repair men never get it right the way he does!”
“Oh my gods,” I whispered, “doesn’t anybody sleep anymore?”
Floria yawned. “We do. But we all knew you’ve been sneaking off somewhere. So we thought we’d keep an eye and an ear out. We just didn’t realize that it was because you have a crush.”
“He’s not my crush,” I insisted, ignoring everything else she’d said.
Zara snorted. “You bring him baked goods and stare at him like he’s the last male in Grebath with forearms.”
I clutched the bread tighter. “This is diplomatic outreach,” I huffed.
“Uh-huh,” Zara drawled, her eyes alight with a twinkle of mischief. “I’m pretty sure you don’t need diplomatic outreach for a clan when I’m already mated to one of its leadership members.”
“Goodnight, everyone!” I whisper-shouted, then bolted for the stairs.
The climb was steep and never-ending, but there was no way I was going to wait for the elevator next to those nosy busybodies.
I was huffing and puffing up a storm by the time I reached the final landing.
Sweating and cursing about my cardio ability, but I was still extremely impressed that I’d even made it in the first place.
“Maybe a few less cookies and a little more broccoli,” I sighed, patting my stomach as I leaned against the wall, panting.
I pushed open the door and slipped out into the cool Grebath night, anticipation lighting me up from the inside out. The air smelled like cedar dust and faint rain. The scent that always clung to Savla’s skin. I’d recognize it anywhere.
The city lights sparkled below, and the soft hum of lamps made everything feel enchanted and bewitching. He wasn’t in sight yet. He was probably in the far corner, brooding over his woodworking as usual.
I crouched behind a half-finished table, my heart hammering in my chest. I’d just rest here for a minute. Casually. Until I figured out a natural way to start a conversation with him and came up with a reason for being there. Something that didn’t have to do with ventilation. Unless—
“Why,” said Savla’s low, gravelly voice from right behind me, “are you hiding behind my table?”
I froze. “Uh...”
He stepped into view, arms crossed, sleeves rolled up his massive, lickable forearms. The veiny kind that I had always adored. But his expression was flat. “You’re aware the stairs creak, right?”
“...In theory,” I murmured, looking anywhere but at him and his bunched muscles that I wanted to take a bite of.
“And your footsteps? Also loud.”
“...Really?” I scowled, not having realized that I’d been galloping my way up the stairs.
“I heard you ten minutes ago.”
I winced. “Oh. So the sneaking part failed.”
“Spectacularly.”
His gaze moved to the cinnamon bread in my hand and I watched him take a deep, pleased sniff. “What’s that?”
I perked up at once. “Oh! It’s a peace offering,” I told him, holding it out to him.
He took it with a firm nod. “Bribe accepted.”
“Was it really that easy?” I asked, blinking.
“It depends on the bread,” he said, tearing off a piece and eating it like it was the most serious thing in the world.
I exhaled, grinning despite myself. “So… I’m not banned from the roof anymore after blowing up that—?”
“Technically,” he said, cutting me off as if he couldn’t relive the moment, “you were never banned.”
I frowned. “What does that mean? You said—”
“It means,” he interrupted again, his lips twitching, “I knew you’d come up here anyway.”
I groaned, covering my face. “You could’ve at least pretended to be surprised.”
“I like watching the process.”
I peeked through my fingers. “What process?”
“The part where you think you’re stealthy.”
I laughed then—quietly, breathlessly, because there was something about the way he said it that made it sound… fond.
And when he glanced away to hide his smirk, I realized maybe he wasn’t the only one who liked watching the process.
By the time I was able to drag myself downstairs the next morning, the hallway smelled like coffee, toast and judgment. There was a note under my door, saying that I was summoned to Zara’s apartment. With a sigh, I made my way there.
The entire coven was gathered around Zara’s massive oak kitchen table—a piece she claimed was ‘enchanted for honesty,’ but I strongly suspected was just enchanted to make people overshare.
I was also certain that it was one of Savla’s pieces and I was deeply, illogically jealous that I didn’t have anything he’d made in my apartment.
Zara, our fearless leader, sat at the head like a queen in her robe, hair wrapped in a silk scarf, spoon clinking rhythmically against her tea cup.
Floria was already halfway through a croissant, looking far too innocent, and Tasia was trying to keep Gabbi from feeding toast crusts to Ribbon.
Ribbon who’d followed me to my apartment for a snuggle and stayed with me when I went to Zara’s.
Tabitha, the elder witch and designated arbiter of everyone’s business, gave me a look over her glasses that could have stripped paint.
“Good morning,” I said brightly, pretending I didn’t feel like a criminal walking into a tribunal.
Zara arched an eyebrow. “Oh, is it?”
I froze halfway to the coffee pot. “...Why?”
Floria bit her lip, trying not to smile. “No reason.”
Gabbi popped up on her knees in her chair, beaming. “Aunty Hanna went to the roof!”
“Gabbi!” Tasia hissed. “We talked about secrets!”
“She told me not to tell anyone except the coven,” Gabbi said proudly.
I groaned. “Little traitor.”
That was the last time I’d be telling her anything. Although it was nearly impossible to lie to someone that cute. She was as powerful as the damn table was for oversharing.
Zara smirked. “So. You did go to the roof,” she confirmed, her voice triumphant.
I poured coffee like it was armor, clutching my cup to me. “Technically, I ascended an exterior maintenance stairwell for an air circulation evaluation,” I explained with a sniff.
Tabitha snorted. “You mean you snuck up there again.”
“It wasn’t sneaking,” I argued. “It was… proactive diplomacy between the clan and coven!”
Zara rolled her eyes, not bothering to state the very valid argument she’d already made about being mated to Rudgar, thank the Goddess, but Floria just giggled.
“Is that what we’re calling flirting with the grumpy orc now?”
“I wasn’t flirting!” I gasped, glaring at her. Even though when it came to Savla, there was always some light flirting involved. I just wasn’t very good at it.
Zara stirred her tea with deadly grace, a sharp smile playing on her lips.
“You brought him bread,” she said in a sing-songy voice that grated on my nerves.
“That was community outreach,” I argued, willing to go down with my lie.
Tasia raised her eyebrows. “You baked at midnight,” she said, shrugging as she confiscated another piece of toast from where Gabbi was holding it out to Ribbon.
“For stress!”
“Then climbed three flights barefoot.”
“For exercise!”
“Since when do you exercise!”
I hesitated. “...for magickal research?”
Tabitha sighed dramatically, reaching for her mug. “Back in my day, if a witch wanted to court someone, she sent them a letter, not carbs.”
Gabbi gasped. “What’s a carb?”
Floria grinned. “It’s what you eat when you’re in love, sweetling.”
“I am not in love!” I protested, a little too loudly.
Everyone froze. Zara’s smirk widened into something truly dangerous. “Who said anything about you being in love?” she asked.
My mouth snapped shut.
Tasia patted my hand sweetly. “It’s alright, Hanna. He’s handsome and broody. Plus, he smells like cedar and probably bad decisions. I get it.”