Chapter 127

Agnes

I clutched the leather book to my chest as Elijah and I walked up to the witch’s house. The memories of my last visit weren’t exactly fond, not that I could remember much anyway. But we needed the pages of this book that hadn’t been translated yet to be translated, and if anyone could do it, it would likely be her.

We stepped inside, and the place was exactly as I remembered. The witch was sitting cross-legged on a meditation cushion in the main part of her little shop, her eyes closed and her hands resting palms-up on her knees.

Elijah and I hesitated, not sure if we should interrupt her or not.

“Back so soon?” she asked without opening her eyes. “And with gifts, I see.”

Elijah and I exchanged glances, but he cleared his throat. “We need your help. Again.”

She cracked one eye open, then the other, and stared at the book in my hands. “Of course you do. Give it to me.” She held one hand out.

At a nod from Elijah, I stepped forward and gave her the book. “There are pages missing,” I explained. “Pages that might have information about the spell that’s binding my wolf.”

The witch raised an eyebrow, her fingers trailing over the worn leather cover. “If the pages are missing, I’m not sure how you expect me to help you.”

“We were hoping you could translate the surrounding pages,” I said. “Much of the book has already been translated, but some hasn’t, especially the portions surrounding the missing pages.”

“We thought that, maybe if we could translate the surrounding text, it might give us some clues as to the spell that’s binding Agnes’s wolf.”

The witch’s eyes sharpened at that. “I see. Well, let’s have a look, shall we?”

She opened the book carefully. I watched as she flipped through the pages, pausing occasionally to examine something more closely.

“Hm. This is very old,” she murmured, more to herself than to us. “The language is ancient, predating much of what we consider modern magical practice.”

“Can you read it?” I asked.

She glanced up at me. “Some of it. The rest will take time to translate properly. Magic isn’t something to be rushed, especially magic as old as this.”

Elijah shifted on his feet. “How much time?”

“As long as it takes,” she replied simply. “But if you’re willing to wait, I can start now.”

Elijah and I exchanged a glance. We’d come this far, we supposed.

“We’ll wait.”

The witch nodded and rose from the cushion, gathering a few tools from around her shop—a magnifying glass, several thick reference books, and a notebook and pen. She settled on a seat behind her desk and began to work, her focus so intense it was as if she’d forgotten we were there.

After several minutes of silence, Elijah cleared his throat. “While you’re working on that, we had another question.”

The witch looked up, clearly annoyed at the interruption.

“Is there a way to unmark an already marked mate?” he asked bluntly.

The witch set down her tools, regarding us with a long, measuring look. “You’re asking if a mate bond can be broken once it’s formed.”

Elijah nodded.

She sighed, rubbing her temples. “In all my years, I’ve never known of a way to sever a true mate bond. Such bonds are meant to be permanent—soul to soul, wolf to wolf.”

My heart sank. I’d expected this answer, but hearing it out loud made it so much more real. Elijah’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look surprised either.

“That doesn’t mean it’s impossible,” the witch continued, tapping the pages of the book. “Perhaps we’ll find something in here. I’ll look. But I make no promises. Now, if you’ll let me concentrate…”

She returned to her work, and Elijah and I stood there in silence.

As I watched the witch work, I felt a strange combination of emotions. Disappointment, yes, but also a stubborn flicker of hope that refused to go out. There had to be a way. If it was true that Olivia had found a way to interfere with a mate bond once, surely there was a way to undo what she’d done.

Finally, the witch closed the book and looked up at us. “I need more time with this. The language is complex, and the missing pages make it harder to establish context. Come back in a few days, and I might have more answers for you.”

I glanced at Elijah, uncertain, but he nodded. “Take your time.”

As we turned to leave, the witch called out, “One more thing.”

We paused, looking back at her.

“Whatever you’re hoping to find in this book—whether it’s a way to reclaim a lost wolf or break a mate bond—remember that magic always comes with a price. Always.”

Her warning followed us out the door and down the path, making me shiver despite the balmy weather.

That night, Thea had her violin recital.

“Mommy, do I look okay?” she twirled in front of me, her black concert dress flaring out around her knees.

I smiled, adjusting the bow in her hair. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

“Do you think Daddy will think so too?”

My heart squeezed. “Of course he will. He’s going to be so proud of you tonight.”

As if on cue, there was a knock at my bedroom door. Thea raced to answer it, and I stood, turning to the mirror one last time. I’d chosen a simple blue wrap dress for the occasion, wanting to look nice for Thea’s big night.

Thea opened the door, and Elijah stood in the archway, looking handsome in a dark suit. But what caught my attention was the enormous bouquet of flowers in his arms, obscuring his face.

“Daddy!” Thea exclaimed, her eyes widening. “Are those for me?”

Elijah laughed, lowering the bouquet to reveal his smile. “They are indeed, princess. For the star of the show.”

Thea clapped her hands in delight as Elijah handed her the flowers. They were almost as big as she was, and she struggled to hold them all, giggling as the petals brushed against her face.

“Let me put those in water for you,” I said, taking the bouquet and carrying it to the kitchen. I found a large vase and arranged the flowers, listening to Thea chattering excitedly to Elijah in the living room.

When I returned, Elijah was crouched down, listening intently as Thea explained exactly which piece she’d be playing and how she was going to stand on stage. His eyes were soft, and for a moment, I allowed myself to imagine that this was our reality—a normal family, getting ready for their daughter’s recital, with no curses or mate bonds or missing wolves to complicate things.

“We should get going,” I said reluctantly, breaking the spell. “We don’t want to be late.”

The recital was being held at the theater in town. We arrived early, finding seats in the middle of the room with a good view of the stage. Thea had to join the other children backstage, and she gave us both quick hugs before hurrying off with her violin case clutched tightly in her hands.

As Elijah and I settled in our seats, his shoulder brushed mine. Without meaning to, I leaned a little closer, something deep inside of me craving his warmth. He didn’t pull away, and it made my heart flutter.

Some of the nearby parents glanced at us, recognizing us instantly. I recognized a few as the parents of Thea’s classmates at school, and offered a tiny wave and a smile.

A few minutes later, the children’s orchestra filed onto the stage, all dressed in black. I spotted Thea immediately. She was clearly trying not to look at the audience, and had a very serious expression on her face, which was really more adorable than anything.

The music started shortly, a collection of simple songs suitable for children. Thea’s part was small—just a few notes here and there—but the look of intense focus on her face made my heart swell.

I glanced at Elijah and found him watching Thea with the same expression, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

When the recital ended, we waited for Thea in the lobby, surrounded by other parents and children. She came running toward us.

“Did you hear me? Did I do okay?” she asked breathlessly.

Elijah scooped her up, spinning her around. “You were amazing, sweetheart! The best violinist up there.” He set her down, then ushered her toward me. “Let’s take some pictures, okay? I want to remember this.”

Thea grabbed my hand, tugging me down beside her. I crouched next to her and put my arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into me, pressing her cheek to mine.

My heart wrenched, but it was equally sweet as it was painful. In that moment, as Thea and I posed like mother and daughter, I was overcome with emotion. Happiness because of this sweet moment, but also sadness because I might never get to experience it with my biological daughter.

After the photos, Elijah suggested we go for ice cream to celebrate, an idea that excited Thea greatly. We drove to the local ice cream parlor, Thea chattering the whole way about how nervous she’d been and how she’d almost messed up one part but had remembered at the last second.

The ice cream parlor was crowded, but we managed to find a table in the corner. Thea ordered a hot fudge sundae, while Elijah and I both opted for simple scoops of vanilla.

I caught Elijah’s eye over Thea’s head as she chattered away, and he smiled at me, a warm, genuine smile that reached his eyes.

And despite everything else, I smiled, too. Because I was truly happy.