35Noah. The rain hadn’t let up for hours. It beat against the windows like it was trying to get in. I stood with one hand pressed to the glass, watching the trees sway under the weight of the monsoon.Behind me, the old wooden floor creaked. I didn’t turn.“Still doing your brooding-by-the-window act?” Isaac’s voice, smooth as ever, filtered across the room. “Should I applaud?”“You’re early,” I said, keeping my eyes on the trees.“I missed our quality time.”He always knew how to press a nerve without sounding like he was trying. I could hear the rustle of his coat as he moved closer. He probably had that smug look on his face, the one that made people want to slap him or fall in love with him. Sometimes both.“He knows where we are,” Isaac said, like he was commenting on the weather.I closed my eyes for half a second. “Of course he does.”“And you’re just going to let that sit while he could be planning our very demise right now?” He came up beside me, leaning his shoulder agains
Y34Sienna.I was in the apothecary when the rain started. One minute I was organizing jars, and yes, alphabetically, and the next, the forest outside was thrumming with wet sound.I pressed my forehead to the glass and sighed. “Well, that’s dramatic.”I wasn’t particularly worried. Rain made everything smell sharper and earthier. If you stood still long enough, you could almost hear the roots drinking. Still, there was some kind of mischief in the air today.Which, naturally, made me think of Isabella.The girl had been too quiet lately. And by quiet, I mean not texting me dumb memes or calling to ask what herbs help with heartbreak while pretending it was “for a friend.” I knew better.So, I grabbed a bottle of red wine from under the counter, strictly for medicinal purposes, and locked up the shop.***Isabella’s cottage was glowing soft yellow through the trees when I reached it. I could already hear the gentle thrum of a playlist inside, something moody and lyric-heavy, because
33Isabella. The weather today was gloomy and grey and humid. I was already annoyed before I stepped into the marketplace, and that was before I saw Isaac leaning against the bakery stall like he owned the damn street.He spotted me instantly, like he’d been waiting for me. Of course he had.“Sunshine,” he greeted, his dumples all out. “You’re glowing today. Is that… irritation?”“Isaac,” I said tightly. I really wasn’t in the mood for social interaction today. “Shouldn’t you be doing whatever it is you find fascinating?”He smirked and walked beside me, hands casually in his pockets, like we were friends. “I’ve decided I like the fresh air. And you, apparently. You’re so interesting when you’re trying not to stab someone.”“I’m not trying not to stab someone,” I replied, keeping my eyes forward. “I’m seriously considering it.”“Careful,” he said, grinning. “You’re starting to sound like me.”That made me stop. “Is that your goal? To irritate me until I become some warped version of
32Noah.Isabella had her legs curled up on the armchair, one hand buried in her hair, the other holding a mug of tea she probably wasn’t drinking. She stared at the fireplace like it might offer answers to questions she hadn’t dared ask me yet.I did.“You ever feel like you’re carrying something that doesn’t belong to you anymore?” I asked, standing by the window. The glass was foggy from the cold outside, or maybe it was just me clouding everything up again.Her eyes flicked to me. “What do you mean?”I didn’t move or blink. “I mean… pain. Guilt. Something old or dead, but you carry it anyway, like muscle memory.”She didn’t respond at first. She took a small sip from the cup and set it on the table beside her. “You sound like someone who never let himself forget his past.”“I haven’t.”“Why?”“Because forgetting would be too easy.”She shifted in her seat, just enough to face me more directly. “Is that why you keep everyone at arm’s length?”I smirked. “You think I keep everyone a
31Sienna. I didn’t expect to see him again so soon. And yet, there he was, leaning against the crooked fence outside the apothecary like he owned the damn forest behind it. Isaac, with that smug, knowing smile, was dressed in another perfectly tailored coat. This one was a deep plum, like the color of bruised skies before a storm. Fitting.“You again,” I said, stepping outside with a basket of dried mugwort under my arm.He straightened up and gave a slight bow like we were on a stage instead of on the muddy trail that led into the woods. “Miss Firestarter,” he said, grinning. “What a surprise. Or is it fate?”“It’s coincidence,” I muttered, shifting the basket. “And I don’t believe in fate.”He started walking next to me, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I do,” he said, glancing sideways. “Especially when it involves redheads with sharp tongues and sharper magic.”I didn’t smile. I gave him a flat stare, my eyes narrowing. “You’re wasting your lines on the wrong gi
30Sienna. I don’t normally dream. Not in the full-color, cryptic-symbolism kind of way people always claim. My sleep, when I manage it, is more of a flicker. Half wakefulness, half meditation. Being a witch with fire in your blood does that to you. You don’t always get the luxury of rest.But this dream one carved itself into the walls of my mind. It started with heat.Not the kind I conjure with my fingers or brew into tea, but something raw and wild. It burned across the horizon of a place I didn’t recognize, a forest turned to ash under an angry red sky. Smoke crawled up my legs in vines. My breath came in short bursts. Then I saw him.A man in chains.He was kneeling, shirtless, with his body caked in soot and blood. His head was down, hair falling into his face. The chains weren’t normal. They were blackened metal, glowing faintly at the edges like they’d just come out of the forge. His hands were tied behind his back, his chest heaving with every breath like he was holding som