Broken Bonds (Lizzie Grace 3)

And with that, the darkness claimed me and I knew no more.

* * *

They kept me in hospital for a week this time, which meant I not only missed New Year’s Eve celebrations, but also forced us to hire in a temp, as the café remained flat out.

The heretic’s magic had ripped multiple wounds into my skin, and while the hospital staff had no idea of their true cause, they were nevertheless worried about the extent of blood loss and the possibility of infection.

At least there’d been a constant flow of visitors to keep me company—not just Belle and Aiden, but Eli and Ashworth, who’d been plastered up yet again, Jaz and her husband Levi, and a good portion of the gossip brigade. Mrs. Potts, I was pleased to learn, was now a regular visitor to Millie’s house alongside the not-so-errant Henry, and she was currently in the process of spoiling rotten the grandchildren she’d never thought she’d have.

When I was finally given the all clear, Belle came to pick me up. Thankfully, it coincided with the one day the café was closed and at least meant I didn’t hav

e to get straight back into the hustle and bustle of things.

The plastic sheet that had been protecting the café from all the dust was finally down, and all the repair work was finished. I scooted up the stairs to drop my bag off then headed into the bathroom. Hospital showers, I’d learned, had truly shitty water pressure.

Once clean, I stood in front of the mirror and studied my reflection. In all truth, I’d been lucky. There were very few scars left despite the multitude of wounds I’d had over my body. Of the five that were evident, the most visible was the inch-long scar that ran along my hairline. It would fade with time, but right now it was a pink reminder of just how close the heretic had come to taking me out.

The other visible reminder was the fact that my eyes were no longer green. They weren’t even green ringed with silver. They were pure silver.

I now looked like the blueblood witch I was supposed to be.

Which was a lie, of course. Magically I was no different now than I had been before—except for the wild magic. It was in me now, a presence—a pulse—that was as steady as my heartbeat.

I was a part of this place, and it me. How and why that could happen, and what it meant for the future, I had no idea.

But one way or another, I needed to find out—though how I was going to do that without alerting my family to my presence, I had no idea. Especially when the new reservation witch was due here within days.

“You want coffee and cake?” Belle shouted from downstairs.

“Is the sky blue?” I shouted back, and hurriedly got dressed.

I bounced down the stairs to find both waiting for me. I grinned, kissed Belle’s cheek, and sat down to happily consume the overly large portion of chocolate mousse cake she’d cut me.

I was just contemplating a second piece—I had a week of bad hospital food to recover from, after all—when the small bell over the front door chimed and Aiden stepped in.

“Hey, lovely ladies, how are you both feeling this morning?” He strode toward us, one hand tucked behind his back.

“I’m good,” Belle said cheerfully. “But I’m guessing you’d like me to disappear?”

“Not at all.” He bent, kissed me soundly, and then, with something of a flourish, produced what he’d been hiding—a box wrapped in Christmas paper. “I figured I’d better present it to you here in case fate intervened again and prevented you coming back to my place.”

“Or you got sidetracked by hormones and forgot again,” Belle murmured.

His grin flashed. “That too.”

I quickly and ruthlessly tore open the wrapping.

“So much for all the care I took,” he murmured, amused.

“Word to the wise—don’t bother.” I picked off the tape holding the lid down and then opened the box. Inside was something wrapped in tissue paper.

I picked it up and, with a whole lot more care this time, opened it. It was a cup. A shell-ribbed teacup with a pretty blue-and-white pattern and a gold rim. Even as I carefully gripped the handle, I knew it was old. Old and valuable. But it wasn’t that that had tears stinging my eyes—it was the vibes rolling off it. They spoke of life and happiness. Of contentment and love. Of commitment. Those who’d used this cup—and the matching saucer that no doubt still lay wrapped in the box—in the past had all been involved in long and happy relationships.

“I saw it, and thought of you,” he said softly.

I swallowed heavily and blinked back tears. This was a gift, not a commitment. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

I carefully wrapped it back in the tissue paper and then rose, wrapped my arms around him, and kissed him more thoroughly.