28. Daire
Daire
Altair hadn’t known he could have emotions?
I . . . supposed I hadn’t either. How else did a person tolerate someone in a cage, without assuming they weren’t capable of the same kind of feeling as everyone else?
Still, it was sad to think about living while doubting that I could feel.
I’d never really had to doubt that. By Mother’s estimation, I felt too much, and the ease with which tears sprang to my eyes said she was probably right.
Nevertheless, I’d rather know that I was too much than doubt if I was enough.
Altair helped me gather herbs for the spell, putting them into a slightly misshapen basket so they’d be easier to carry. Wistful for a few seconds, he smiled down at that basket and looked to Leo beyond me.
The way he blushed then was sweet.
It wasn’t just that he knew he could feel now. When he’d been at the coven house, he’d been seductive, trying to manipulate his way into better circumstances. I hadn’t wanted to see the survival instinct pressing him into that.
Here, he didn’t slink around like he might need to twist his circumstances into something better and didn’t want to be seen advocating for himself. He was comfortable. Happy.
If I hadn’t already been convinced that the werewolves were better than us, that would’ve done it.
But they worked together. They’d been kinder to me than I deserved.
The way they sat around the dining table and ate together—well, let’s just say that my meals were mostly comprised of whatever I’d snatched from the kitchen and brought up to my room before anyone noticed.
A lot of trail mix, mostly. Sometimes cheese and crackers.
Once we were finished eating, Viktor and I took the herbs outside.
“It’s nice how you all eat together,” I said as we walked. “We didn’t do that at the coven house.”
Viktor frowned at me, but I was starting to be able to parse his frowns, as many of them as there were, and this one seemed more confused than anything else. “Why?”
I shrugged. “Everyone always had something going on, and when we did come together for a purpose, the energy was . . . repressive. You all don’t do that to each other.”
Viktor nodded. “It took me a while to get used to, too.”
“Things in Russia were different?”
His tongue ran between his lips. “Yes. We ate together, but it was . . . efficient. There was little reason to talk, and much less reason to draw attention to ourselves.”
“I . . . kind of get that. Not that—” I sucked in a quick breath. “Not that I can compare living with my own coven to anything that you went through, but that constant feeling of tension? I . . . get it.”
I glanced at him, but rather than looking put out or offended that I’d presumed so much, Viktor nodded. Then he . . . he lifted his hand and settled it on the small of my back, and when he spread his fingers to trace my spine, my stomach clenched.
This was more than just convenience. It had to be.
We were going to start at the road we’d crossed the day before, and lay down wards there to start. It was far away from the center of the pack, though, so we’d place more inside the perimeter.
While we worked, I explained how wards worked. It was easy to ward a single building, because the walls were all defined. It was how they’d found him so fast at the coven house—he’d touched the wards and set off magical alarms that brought the witches swarming.
Working with bigger areas, it was easiest to ward along some kind of delineation—something manmade, like a road, or a stream or river would do. Just something where energy, natural or intentionally built, cut up space.
We’d also taken rope in our basket, and when we moved back toward the center of pack territory, we looped it around the bases of trees and created lines with salt and herbs to make our own delineations.
Viktor was incredibly efficient. He asked when he had a question, but didn’t hesitate to take on work himself, once he understood it. That left me to lay the lines while he wove the magic.
I’d never worked with another witch. Technically, I still hadn’t, but I didn’t know that the coven worked like this, together instead of one person ordering the others in a hierarchy defined from the top.
If my life had played out perfectly, I would have been issuing those orders and demands. Perhaps I would have cast magic of my own, but I would have directed all the parts at play while everyone worked like a cog around me to support what I wanted.
It wouldn’t have been balanced. We didn’t value equality in the coven house, but the Wildwood wolves needed it. When Aleks could have commanded his people or Viktor could’ve imposed his strength, they tried to work together instead.
If the warding we did was anything to go by, this was a better way to live, and maybe a better, more balanced way to practice magic.
Mother had wanted a nuclear reactor, but maybe we just needed everyone together, working toward a common goal.
But . . . as for the coven, I wouldn’t be the one to lead them there. I didn’t want to be part of the structure she’d created, and I didn’t think I’d ever forget standing by the bonfire, realizing Mother had a dagger in her hand and meant to kill me with it.
They’d all stood by and done nothing, but Viktor had saved me, and Drew too.
And maybe I could prove myself to the pack and stay.
They could use a witch—or someone to show Viktor how it was done, if we weren’t able to figure this out.
But there was a lot we could do with magic that would benefit the pack, and it’d be nice to use it to repay them.
Once we’d finished laying the wards, it was only midday. I turned to Viktor with an empty basket and a smile on my face. “What do you think? Are you worn out?”
He shook his head. I didn’t know how much casting would tire a witch out, or if our bond provided any relief to him, but he looked well enough.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“Okay! Good. Then . . . what’s next? What would you normally do on a day like today?”
His brow furrowed. “Well, we’ve been building. We’re almost finished with the big house. That’ll house most of the pack while we work on more homes for those who want to live on their own. But—”
“Great! Let’s go build. I can totally hammer a nail, probably. I definitely watched Bob the Builder, so I’m sure I have some kind of latent knowledge in here just waiting to come out.”
The way Viktor’s eyes tightened wasn’t quite comfortable, but I didn’t let my smile waver. I wasn’t going to interrupt his life or hold his pack back. I wanted to help.
Eventually, he sighed. “Okay, we can . . . go see if there’s work we can do.”