And I keep quiet the rest of the ride back to Wysteria.
HOME. I’M FINALLY HERE.
Alina’s carriage dropped Poppy off at the café first—I was tempted to run inside and buy something sweet to eat—then me. Now, I wave as the carriage starts away, with Alina, Maeve, Iris, and Yuki looking out the frosty window at me. When they’re gone, leaving nothing but tracks in the snow, I turn and start up the cobblestone walkway to the house, the one I grew up in and know like the back of my hand.
After stepping inside, I push the door closed behind me, set my bag down on the floor in the hallway, and take a deep breath. The air smells of woodsmoke, strong coffee, and cedar from Papa’s workshop.
Even Juniper seems comforted by the smell, given the way she crawls onto my shoulder and sniffs at the air. “Think he has any of those glazed donuts?” she asks.
Papa has a soft spot for donuts, and he usually keeps them around to have with his morning coffee.
“I hope so.”
After wiping my boots on the mat by the door, I walk into the kitchen. Papa isn’t there, but the donuts sure are.
“Yes!” Juniper says.
A smile pulls on my lips as I snag a donut for myself and rip a big chunk off for her. The vanilla glaze makes my fingers sticky. Then I move through our tiny cramped house, glance into Papa’s bedroom—it’s empty—and continue into the narrow yard in the back, where hisworkshop is. The snow underfoot has been packed down by Papa’s boots, so I know he’s been coming and going from his shop, as usual.
I pull the roller door open, and Papa looks up from what he’s working on—intricately carved corbels, by the look of it. As soon as he sets eyes on me, his mouth pulls into a grin, and he crosses the workshop in just a few wide steps.
“Ly!” His arms come around me, though he’s careful not to squish Juniper in the process.
I hug him back, breathing in the smell of sawdust and coffee that clings to him everywhere he goes. “Hi, Papa.”
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re home.” When he pulls back from me, there’s moisture in his eyes, and I laugh a little as he reaches up to wipe the tears away.
“You miss me that much?” I ask. “We’ve gotta get you a girlfriend, Papa.”
He pinches his lips and ruffles my hair, probably getting wood shavings in my curls. “What? You mean to say you didn’t miss me?”
The humorous smile falls slowly from my lips. Now I’m the one whose eyes are going glassy.
“Of course not,” I say with a barely concealed sniffle. Then a couple tears fall onto my cheeks, and next thing I know, I’m wrapping my arms around his middle and pressing my head to his warm chest.
His laughter rumbles in my ear. “Come on. Let’s have a bite to eat, and you can get me caught up on everything you’ve been up to. And you too, Juniper. Did you find those donuts I left out?”
Juniper crawls from my shoulder onto Papa’s shoulder, where she can often be found when we’re at home. She snuggles her face against his cheek, and he laughs.
“Yup, I can smell the sugar on you already,” he says.
Papa slings his arm around me, grabs his mug of strong coffee off his workbench, and takes me back to the house, where he proceeds to pour me a cup of tea and serve me another glazed donut.
And despite how messy everything is in my heart right now, it comforts me. Being here, being with Papa, feels safe and familiar.
But I still can’t get Cairn’s face from my mind, no matter how hard I try.
Chapter 39
Cairn
THE STUDENTS HAVE ALL LEFT the campus, and it’s quiet around here now—no laughter or conversation, no boots crunching over the leaves or snow. Just me and Coven Crest and the bite of cold in the air.
Despite the academy being closed for the semester, there’s still plenty for me to do. This is the time of year when I workinsidethe academy—oiling squeaky door hinges, tending to the indoor plants, washing the windows so they shine despite the gray outside.
I keep myself busy, working hard, but no matter how much I sweat or how many tasks I check off my to-do list, Lyra’s face is never far from my mind. When I shovel snow, I see her. When I pour tea, I see her. And when I sit in my armchair and stare into the fire at night, I can almost swear Ifeelher—the warmth of her skin, the softness of her mouth. The pillow she once slept on no longer smells of her, and I’m not sure whether to be relieved or not.
Today was a cold day—colder than most. The Mistwood is frosted over, ice clinging to the pines, and now that night has fallen, I move around my hut, pulling the drapes closed to trap the warmth from the fire inside. But as I grab hold of the drapes in the sitting room, something outside the window catches my eye.
