Chapter 41
Archer
Renata spends five minutes coughing up her guts while I try not to pass out from watching her fold herself over the barrier between her and a three story drop.
Again.
Once her stomach has settled, I pull her into my arms and carry her to her room.
Taking a deep breath, I run my hand down her head. Her arms tighten around my neck and she nuzzles her face further into my neck. With her legs wrapped around my waist, I use the hand under her bottom to adjust her as we walk through her door.
As soon as we do, there are five faces staring at us.
Rowyn jumps up first and runs toward us. With her hand on Renata’s back, she explains, “We all heard her scream when you were running past us.”
Clementine climbs off the bed, but is reluctant to come closer. “We didn’t want to overwhelm her, but maybe we should have followed…”
Her eyes are brimming with tears, and it’s the most scared I’ve seen the young witch.
Renata softly shakes her head, but I can barely feel it.
“No,” I tell Clementine on her behalf. “There isn’t a lot of room on that balcony, and she could’ve hurt herself if we scared her.” My voice threatens to crack at the thought of what could have happened. Swallowing past the fear, I say, “It was the right choice.”
She lets out a sigh of relief and leans into her sister’s hug.
“Are you okay?” Rowyn asks quietly.
After a moment, Renata slides out of my hold and stays close enough to put her weight on me.
I wrap my arms around her. This is the most affection any of the women have seen between us.
None of them seem surprised. They all look relieved, if not a little sad.
With the exception of Sybil, who only shows happiness for me.
I need to tell her.
“I’m okay,” Renata says in a quiet voice. It’s nearly inaudible, but everyone relaxes slightly.
“Do you need anything?” Sybil asks from her spot on the edge of the bed.
Renata starts to shake her head when Rowyn jumps into action. Pulling the youngest witch’s hand, she calls over her shoulder, “We’ll bring tea.”
“It’s okay,” Renata attempts to say.
Rowyn and Clementine are already out of the room. Whatever she brings will help Renata calm down and get some rest.
Esme steps forward and hugs Renata, pulling her out of my arms. I watch as she easily falls into her friend’s arms. It’s an intentional embrace, shifting something in the air around us. I glance at my sister and from the wide eyes, she can sense it too.
Hesitantly, I let the tendrils of my magic free and reach for whatever is transferring between the two of them. Before my magic can untangle their emotions, I feel the faint sensation of tiny bubbles bursting on skin.
Blinking, I look at Esme and let my magic linger between us. Each tiny explosion is reminiscent of a surprise sunshower. She’s offering Renata a bit of comfort and healing. I’ve never spent much time around Love Witches, so her abilities manifest are new to me.
Catching my eye as she lets Renata go, Esme smirks. “I felt that.”
Renata looks over her shoulder, confused.
“You were healing her,” I say.
“And you were spying,” Esme teases, but there’s no anger there.
Shrugging, I ignore her. “How did you manipulate the air like that?”
“I didn’t manipulate the air,” she says. “I used the water vapor to kind of reset her nervous system.”
Renata nods. “It’s nice.”
Esme offers her a sweet smile and rubs her arm one more time.
Clover and Sybil each wrap their arms around her too, soaking her in affection before leaving the room.
Knowing that Rowyn and Clementine will be back, I don’t close the door. Helping her sit on the edge of her bed, she’s shivering again. Her room is dark, even with the fire going, and the cold rolls in through the window she leaves open for Hexate. I doubt she’ll be leaving Renata’s side tonight.
Closing that, I walk to her closet and look for anything warmer than her typical pajamas. There’s nothing functional here, and as much as I love her nightwear, I want to lecture her about it at the moment.
Grabbing a long-sleeve cotton shirt of hers and the sweats I wore last night, I walk to the edge of the bed and sit down, waiting for her tea while she stares at the floor.
I watch her, wondering what she’s thinking about and what she saw. It’s not long until Rowyn walks in with a tray, set with a fresh kettle and tea cups. Clementine follows, holding two plates. One with a sandwich and the other with a lemon lavender pastry in the shape of a crescent moon.
“I told her you wouldn’t eat these,” Clementine whispers in Renata’s ear with an eye roll. She looks immensely proud of herself when it pulls a small smile from Renata in response.
Rowyn ignores her, setting everything on the bedside table. She’s fussing, not ready to leave her friend.
I can’t blame her, but I want nothing more than to crawl into bed with Renata and hold her until she sleeps.
After a few minutes of watching Rowyn clean up various little messes, like clothes on the floor and uncapped pens, Renata grabs Clementine’s hands. She subtly tilts her head toward Rowyn with a wink.
Clementine rolls her eyes and dramatically pushes herself off the bed. “Let’s go, you mother hen.”
“What? Oh—I…” She looks at Renata with concern. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
Renata nods. “I am. Just tired. We can talk tomorrow.”
That satisfies Rowyn enough to turn out of the room, but she stops to point a finger at me. “If anything happens, you come get us.”
With a salute, I say. “Yes, Mom.”
She glares, but I can see the smile fighting to come through.
Renata might be the re-founder of the coven, but it’s clear that the role of matron belongs to Rowyn. She loves getting to take care of them.
When the door clicks behind her, I drop to my knees in front of Renata and push her cardigan off her shoulders.
She assists in the process and chuckles. “I mean, sure, but I can’t promise I’ll be at my best performance right now.”
Glaring up at her, I say, “That’s not what I’m trying to do right now.”
She smirks and lifts her arms, letting me slide her nightgown off of her. “You’re always trying.”
The sight of her pebbled nipples tempt me, drawing me in for a taste, but the roughness in her voice is enough to push any emotion other than protectiveness aside.
Grabbing the shirt, I hold it out and wait for her to lift her arms.
She rolls her eyes, but it’s undermined by the shiver that runs through her.
“You’re cold,” I bite out.
With an exasperated breath, she pushes herself backward and slides under the covers. “Your body heat and a cup of tea will do more for me than clothes would.”
With a stiff nod, I prepare her a cup, and then strip out of my clothes. Crawling toward her, I wrap my body around her small frame, careful not to spill the hot liquid.
“Better?” I murmur against her ear.
She takes a sip. “Yes, much better.”
We sit like that for a few minutes and watch the fire Rowyn lit crackle across the room.
“Have you learned anything new? About why Nestor left?” The question is the last thing I expected to hear right now.
“Not much. I think he went to gather everoot,” I tell her with a shrug.
Her head tilts back and she blinks up at me a few times. “Everoot?”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “Remember in Petra’s journal, she mentioned that Cassia Foxglove died from decay fever.” I explain the same reasoning I told Gale a couple days ago, and how it connects back to The Last Hero.
She pushes to a sitting position. She’s processing the thought, putting it all together. “I mean… Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense.”
“I’ve been trying to find any evidence to back it up,” I admit. “There’s nothing. It feels like a reach but…”
She bites her lip. “It feels like the closest we’ve gotten to discovering the truth.”
I nod and wrap a hand around the nape of her neck. “It might not change our fate, but at least we could die knowing the truth.”
In a sober voice she adds, “Their mom and grandmother died from decay fever.”
“Whose?” I ask, not understanding where her mind went.
With wide, sad eyes, she says, “Clover and Clementine’s. I think it runs in their family.”
“Are you sure? We need to get the herb then,” I insist. “I can go see Calista before we make any further decisions.”
She smiles softly at me, one full of affection and admiration. “You would do that for Clover?”
“Of course I would,” I say. “She’s a part of this coven, and I want to make sure that whatever we decide protects them, not causes more pain.”
“Me too,” she says. “But we have a small store of everoot. There’s enough for two doses.”
“Good,” I say. “That’s good.”
She tilts her head before lying back down, wrapping an arm around me. “Do you know how to attain everoot?”
“Uh, yeah,” I say, confused by her interest. “I mean, few witches know what the ‘price’ is. I’ve read tales about Calista though. Sybil got sick when we were kids, and my parents paid the local healer for a dose.”
“Your family has never gone to retrieve it?” she asks, sounding a little astonished.
“No, never,” I answer. Procuring it isn’t a common practice, making the price outrageous. “What do you know about it?”
She shakes her head, trying to find the words.
“My mother went annually, sometimes twice a year, but that was rare. I only remember her going alone once—a few months after my father died. She has green magic, and she’s a very talented witch,” she admits.
“He was the brain and charm of the business. She never confessed it, least of all to me, but she struggled to get a firm grip on everything afterward.”
I rub her arm and tangle our legs together. She’s shivering again, but it’s different than when she was cold. It gives her anxiety to talk about her mother and her life before Briarhollow.
“She went to Calista, the—”
“The succubus demon,” I cut her off, my mind beginning to turn.