CHAPTER FOUR #3
Nyssa tried not to let her smile waver. She loved her grandmother, truly, but it would be nice to be seen as someone other than Lisabeth Hawthorne’s estranged granddaughter, and it was hard to keep the bite from her voice as she replied, ‘The one and only.’
Alaric let out a small, warm chuckle that instantly made Nyssa feel bad for her surly tone. ‘You certainly share your grandmother’s spark. She was quite the woman.’
Woman. Not witch. It was the first time someone had referred to Lisabeth as something other than her role in the community, and it instantly made her soften towards him. ‘She was,’ Nyssa agreed. ‘Did you know her well?’
He was a handsome man, and age-wise … well, Nyssa couldn’t place his exact age, but he was definitely past his fiftieth year.
Too young for any romantic entanglements, perhaps (and her grandma hadn’t taken any interest in anyone like that in a long time), but there was a familiarity in the way he spoke of Lisabeth that hinted at a close relationship of some kind.
‘Extremely. She was like family to me. I miss her dearly.’ Alaric cleared his throat before gesturing to the table he’d previously been occupying, where two other people sat.
‘Come, let us sit. I’d love to learn more about you.
Liora mentioned you lived in London before this, but she’s been rather evasive of the details. ’
‘That’s because they’re not mine to know about, you old busybody!’ Liora plonked herself down on one of the chairs around the table and shot Nyssa an apologetic smile. ‘Alaric makes it his business to put his nose where it doesn’t belong. You don’t have to tell him anything you don’t want to, Nys.’
Nyssa perched on the chair closest to the fire before replying. ‘It’s fine, to be honest there’s … not much to tell. I just needed a break from a busy job. I won’t be staying long.’
The stranger sitting opposite her – a middle-aged woman with the same dark complexion as Alaric – pursed her lips. ‘That’s what everyone says. Alaric and I were just meant to be passing through, and, well, now he refuses to leave, and I find myself forced to visit my darling brother every month!’
Alaric let out an exasperated sigh. ‘You do not have to visit, Amelia. Although I am not sure how Nighthaven shall survive without your penchant for spreading rumours.’
‘Please, Li here is far guiltier than I am of that crime.’ Amelia smirked.
She fell silent as a barkeep – not Elowen, Nyssa noted with disappointment – placed a tray of glasses filled with sparkling clear liquid on the table with an enthusiastic, ‘On the house!’ It was only once the four of them were alone once more that Amelia shot a quick glance around the tavern before whispering, ‘Speaking of rumours, did you hear about The Coven of the Sacred Owl?’
Nyssa was glad she hadn’t taken that moment to sip her drink, because if she had, she’d have likely spat it out. Her lungs constricted at the mention of her coven, and the comforting warmth of the fireplace suddenly felt stiflingly hot as Alaric asked, ‘What about them?’
‘Apparently, something went wrong with one of their rituals, leaving them completely unprotected for the next wheel cycle!’
Nyssa wasn’t able to stop herself from wincing as the others round the table murmured their surprise at the news. The shame Nyssa had been managing to keep at bay rushed through her with renewed strength. It was bad enough that her coven knew of her failure, but the entire world, too?
The tavern suddenly felt too small, and all Nyssa could think was that, if Liora put two and two together, she’d figure out Nyssa was the witch responsible. If that happened, any warmth, any respect the bard had for her, would blink out like a candleflame.
‘I heard that rumour, too,’ she lied, hoping they didn’t notice the slightly higher pitch to her voice. ‘Apparently, it was just made up by a rival coven to make people question the might of the Sacred Owl.’
It wouldn’t have been the first time another coven had spread rumours about her own. They were the most prestigious in the country, after all, and even though the other covens respected them on the surface, there were those amongst their ranks that let jealousy win out.
‘Ugh, coven politics: boring.’ Liora took a long gulp of her drink. ‘I’ll give you some real gossip! I heard my old mentor was found cosying up to a certain druid leader …’
Alaric and Amelia were instantly distracted, their heads bent low as Liora dove into her tale. And though Nyssa didn’t have proof beyond the small smile the bard sent her way, she couldn’t help but think Liora had changed the subject for her benefit.
Nyssa couldn’t figure out if Liora knew her story, or if she’d simply sensed how uncomfortable the conversation was making her.
Either way, she hadn’t looked at her with judgement or disappointment.
If anything, her warmth towards Nyssa seemed stronger.
A reassuring smile here, a whispered check-in there, and as the night went on and the empty glasses stacked up, Nyssa’s shame faded once more, replaced by the warmth of the hearth and the long-absent comfort of being surrounded by something Nyssa hadn’t had in a long time.
Friends.