The Spirit Witch | Bewitchment #1

Twelve

The saddles had burned in the fire, but Jonathan managed to find a few bridles that were miraculously intact.

Charlotte tugged her skirts down over her knees as she settled on her horse bareback. When she was younger, she used to ride astride all the time, hair flying loose behind her as she galloped along the roads at breakneck speeds. But her magic had warmed her then. She didn't have quite so much of it now and the chilled air on her skin was an unwelcome sensation that sent her curling in on herself.

Although it did feel good to revisit her younger habits, remembering a time when life was simpler and magic was merely a few threads of jinxes and hexes for sport.

Charlotte and Jonathan had barely been riding for an hour before the snow began. Only a few wispy flakes at first, sifting through the thick pine boughs like confectioner's sugar.

Then the snow came down harder in fat, wet clumps that clung to Charlotte's clothes, face, and hair. Though her magic had returned, it was barely there, beating like a fragile mouse's heart, fluttering and tiny. It provided a small bit of warmth but not nearly enough to stave off the frigid wind.

At least it was more than Jonathan had. Charlotte fought down a surge of guilt at the sight of her father riding alongside her, the collar of his shirt hitched up around his ears.

"Papa, take your coat back," Charlotte said, already wriggling out of it. "You'll catch your death in this weather."

Jonathan shook his head. "You need it more than I do."

"I have my magic."

"Hardly."

Charlotte sighed and pulled his coat on again. It was a waste of breath to argue. She had seen the look of unbridled fear on his face when he handed over the wraithstone. She could let him have this small peace of mind, for what it was worth.

Charlotte continually closed her hand over the wraithstone, clutching it tight to remind herself it was still there. She dared to carve away a sliver of witchcraft to serve as a warning and sent it skittering out to the far corners of the earth.

Her sister witches deserved to know what was happening, wherever they were in this wide world. She couldn't provide a detailed explanation—there wasn't enough magic to build a strong connection and communicate with them.

But they knew now that something was amiss. They had targets on their backs. More so than usual. The Endless One would come for them to eliminate any threats that might entrap him as Charlotte had.

"Did you think I would use it for myself?" Jonathan said.

He didn't look at her when he spoke, his head turned away as he scanned the surrounding trees. She couldn't read his expression. The mildness of his tone was all she had to judge his mood.

"Use what?" Charlotte replied, though she had a good idea already what he was talking about.

"Your magic."

She didn't say anything. The snow had piled deep by now and the horses were forced to take a slower pace. She couldn't study him as she wanted to. She couldn't look him in the eye and see if he was serious or not.

"I'm aware of the dangers," Jonathan continued. "After the past few days, I believe my consideration is justified."

Charlotte sighed, fingers plucking at the dark hair of her horse's mane.

"At any other time," she said. "I would explain why that decision could be disastrous."

"But you're not going to?"