Page 10 of Wedded Witch

“N-no,” she stammers. “I haven’t seen her this morning.”

I grit my teeth and move on, searching every corridor, every hidden alcove, asking every employee I come across. But it’s the same story everywhere. No one has seen her since last night.

I can’t risk asking her family – or mine – about her, but as more time passes, I fear I might have to.

The truth gnaws at me, a pit opening in my stomach. She’s gone. And she’s been gone for a while. Long enough that the bond is weakening, her presence fading from my awareness like a ghost.

A sudden, irrational anger flares up inside me. How could she do this? After everything we went through yesterday, after the vows we exchanged? After the way she looked at me, the way she gasped when we kissed, like she felt it too – this bond we share. I clench my fists, trying to push down the frustration threatening to boil over.

But beneath the anger is something else – fear. Because as much as I want to be angry, I can’t shake the worry gnawing at my insides. Did she leave because she wanted to? Or did something happen, something I wasn’t aware of? The thought of her being in danger, out there alone, vulnerable, makes my blood run cold.

I reach the entrance hall and throw open the massive double doors, stepping out into the cold morning air. The manor grounds stretch out before me, eerily quiet under the dawn sky. There’s no sign of her, no trace of where she might have gone. But I know she’s out there somewhere. And I know I have to find her.

I close my eyes, focusing on the bond, on the faint pulse of magic that still connects us. It’s weak, barely a whisper, but it’sthere. I cling to it, using it to guide me, to point me in the right direction.

“I’ll find you, Swyn,” I vow under my breath.

And I will. Whether she’s running from me or from something else, I’ll bring her back. I have to.

Because I can’t lose her. Not now. Not ever.

SWYN

The air iscool against my skin as I walk along the empty road, the distant lights of the manor fading into the night behind me. The weight of my decision presses down on me, but with each step away from that place, my resolve hardens.

There’s no turning back now. I’ve made my choice. Now, I just have to figure out where to go next.

I stick to the shadows, keeping an eye out for any movement on the road. The manor’s guards are thorough, but they’re not expecting the bride to bolt the morning after her wedding. I’m banking on that surprise to give me a head start.

It’s quiet, almost too quiet, but that’s how it should be this time of night. The only sound is the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze and the occasional distant hoot of an owl. The dark, winding road seems endless, but I keep moving, hoping to find some sign of life soon.

It isn’t long before I see headlights in the distance, approaching slowly. A beat-up old pickup truck, probably some local making their way home from a late shift.

I wave my hand, stepping out just enough into the road to catch the driver’s attention, but not so much that I look desperate. I can’t afford to look desperate. Not yet.

The truck slows, its headlights washing over me, and for a moment, I think the driver might just keep going. But then it comes to a stop a few feet ahead, the engine idling as the driver leans over to roll down the passenger-side window.

“You alright there, miss?” the man asks, his voice gruff but not unkind. He looks to be in his sixties, with a face weathered by years of hard work and a thick, greying beard.

“Just a bit lost,” I say, pulling my jacket tighter around myself. “I was hoping to get into town. Think you could give me a lift?”

He squints at me, probably wondering why someone like me would be wandering the roads alone at this hour, but he doesn’t ask. Instead, he just nods and jerks his thumb toward the passenger seat. “Hop in. I’m headed that way.”

“Thank you,” I say, sliding into the seat and pulling the door shut behind me. The interior of the truck smells like old leather and tobacco, but it’s warm, and that’s all that matters right now.

The man doesn’t say much as he drives, just keeps his eyes on the road, the silence between us filled with the hum of the engine and the occasional bump of the tires over the uneven asphalt. I don’t mind. It gives me time to think, to plan my next move.

When we reach the outskirts of the town, I ask him to drop me off at a small shopping centre. It’s late, but there’s a cashpoint outside one of the shops, and I can’t risk not having cash on hand.

My family may have money, but they also have eyes everywhere. If they catch wind of where I’m headed, they’ll come after me. So, I’ve learned to keep a separate stash, one they don’t know about, hidden away in a bank account under a different name.

It’s one of the few things I’ve been able to control in my life, and tonight, it’s going to save me. I spent the bulk of my savings getting their tracking spell reversed, but I didn’t have enough to cover a blackmarket blocking spell, so I have to hope for the best. Hopefully if I go far enough, they won’t come after me.

“Thanks again,” I say as I climb out of the truck, offering the driver a small smile. He just nods, tipping his hat in a gesture that seems oddly formal, and then drives off into the night.

I watch the truck’s tail lights disappear before heading over to the ATM. The screen flickers to life as I insert the card, my heart pounding a little faster as I wait for the machine to process my request.

The amount I withdraw isn’t much—just enough to cover the basics for a few days—but it’s enough to get me started. Enough to get me away.