chapter 22

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SHE WAS STANDING in the low doorframe, staring at the adjacent wall

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SHE WAS STANDING in the low doorframe, staring at the adjacent wall. The Wytch could not bring herself to look; to turn her head and see the human tending to the Faerie he called a friend.

It caused her stomach to churn simply to be where she was. The smell of the Faerie and herbs and spells that had been stewing for Hekate-knows-how-long within the cottage overwhelmed her senses. It made it difficult to concentrate on anything else.

The cottage —if she could even call it that —could be traversed within six paces, and was missing half of the roof and one wall. Everything else from the bed to the other pieces of furniture were upset and piled together like an abstract art installation.

What had occurred to cause such destruction?

She suspected it had been the Faerie itself, in an unwitting transformation into a beast.

To be sure, she lightly sniffed —even with the strong smell of earth and undergrowth, she picked out the scent of...squid ink. What a curious magic echo for something that could travel on land. Then Kynes frowned and stilled. More than one smell. The Faerie had not been alone prior to their visit for at least a week. A shiver then barrelled up her spine.

The Wytch came to two conclusions: either something else had caused the damage, or it had indeed been the Faerie —but only after provocation. Or worse: as the after-effect of a wicked hex.

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