Every clipped word was a balm to his soul. He couldn’t help himself any longer and pulled her into his arms.
“I’ve missed you. I feel like everything will work out now we’re back together.”
She sniffed into his shoulder. “Yes, I don’t know how you managed to survive at all without me.”
Chapter 15
Ariana tried not to focus on any one thing as they made their way across town to a hotel where no one would recognize either her or Maria. Not that it mattered. Not a single soul glanced their way and they should have been making quite a spectacle of themselves.
First of all, Maria had supposedly been with Owen in Moldavia all these weeks. Weren’t her parents mad with worry? And Ariana’s own house had only just burned down completely within the last few days. Everyone she knew should have been swarming her with condolences or lobbing questions at her at the first glimpse of her on the street.
So where were all her meddling neighbors? No matter how they tried to slink down the back streets and keep their heads down, there was no possible way that not even one person looked at them askance.
If nothing else, her dress was all wrong. It was so far ahead of the current fashion it was hopelessly out of style. Any of her friends would instantly notice that even if there weren’t two other, much bigger things to wag their tongues about. They were still in the fashionable part of town and none of the well-dressed ladies or their harried footmen so much as raised a brow at her odd attire.
She tucked her hand under Owen’s elbow to help keep her footing as they turned onto a rough, cobbled street. Maria looked down at her hand and her lips curled up. Ariana dropped her grip and concentrated on the cracks in the walkway, not wanting to catch her heel and turn her ankle after everything else, but not wanting to offend Maria. Or whoever that was.
“No, you should hold on,” Maria said. It sounded like her. A bit far away and flat, but it was her voice. “You mustn’t take a tumble on this bad lane.”
Owen held out both his arms, elbows bent. “Each of you take an anchor,” he said with forced joviality.
Of all the things that made her want to cry, this almost made her start up again. How had things taken such an awful turn? She was homeless, her parents were far away, Maria was … gone? And yet she stood right there next to Owen, looking blank yet irritated at the same time.
“I’ll be fine,” Maria said. She glided ahead of them a few steps and turned around, walking backwards as effortlessly as if she were on a smooth parquet floor. “See? Though we needn’t go all this distance. No one will recognize us.”
Owen smiled a little more naturally, though there was still a strain in his eyes. “She’s really good at making people not notice. Are we actually invisible?”
Maria laughed. Nothing like the laugh Ariana knew. It was as if she’d forgotten how, a rusty, coughing sound. “No. But we may as well be for all this lot cares.”
“You make them focus on something else? Something more important to them than us?” For all her fearfulness of what might be inside her old friend, Ariana couldn’t help but be curious about what kind of magic she was doing.
Owen hissed at her question. They had studied in secret since they were children and it was probably a habit to want to remind her to be careful. Being around witches constantly for the last weeks had made it easy for her to speak openly about such things and if Maria was truly masking their presence somehow, she could most likely start barking like a dog and no one would blink.
“Yes, that’s about right,” Maria answered, seeming pleased. “You’re quite clever. I feel I would have been proud of you.” The flash that showed deep in Maria’s eyes was closer to the surface and focused directly on her.
Ariana might have been able to pretend up until that moment, but she couldn’t anymore. “Who are you?” she begged, her voice cracking.
The spark dulled and receded again. Maria no longer looked pleased. She shook her head, turned around, and continued on ahead of them.
Ariana shivered and took Owen’s arm again, trying to find one comforting thought. Normally, thoughts of what she’d built would make her happy. Her coven, the orphanage. The good she had done. She still had that.
But, did she? What if what Cousin Dexter had told her was true? Could Nick be plotting to kill her? Was he that good of an actor? She honestly believed he loved her, though he did get fussy and jealous when she worried about Owen. And he hated that he didn’t have his own money. But jealousy of another man and his foolish pride, his wanting her to be proud of him, seemed the complete opposite of wanting her dead. It was nonsense. If it had happened before, if that wasn’t also a lie, then things had changed.
She nodded vigorously as she walked, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that she could trust Nick. And going back to her time in the future was far down on her list of
