Page 57 of Wedded Witch

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Page 57 of Wedded Witch

Flowers that were probably once neatly arranged in beds now sprawl wherever they please, wild and free. It’s fitting in a way—this garden, like her, is something wild waiting to be tamed.

I decide to hang back. This is her moment, a connection she needs to make on her own. It feels wrong to intrude. I glance at Ri, expecting him to see it too, but his jaw is clenched, and his eyes are glued to Swyn’s back.

“She shouldn’t go in there alone,” Ri mutters, low enough so she won’t hear.

I snort. “It’s a garden, dickhead. What’s the worst that could happen? She’ll be fine. She needs this.”

Ri glares at me, stepping closer. “We don’t know what kind of magic lingers in that house or what’s hiding in that garden. It’s Galdur land, and she’s only just started discovering her ancestry. I’m not letting her go in there alone.”

I sigh and shake my head. Of course, he’s overreacting, always thinking about the worst-case scenario. “You think something’s gonna jump out of the bushes and curse her? Come on, Ri. Give her some space.”

“She doesn’t need space, Kel. She needs protection.”

I sigh, glancing back at Swyn. She’s already a few steps ahead, touching the leaves and flowers like she’s discovering parts of herself. She looks peaceful for the first time in days, and Ri’s paranoid ass is going to ruin it.

“Look,” I say, trying to stay calm, “this isn’t your fight, alright? Let her?—”

Ri cuts me off, his eyes flashing. “She’s our responsibility. We promised to keep her safe. And she’sours.”

I open my mouth to argue, but I catch the determined set of his jaw, and I know I won’t win this one. Ri’s like a damn wall when he’s made his mind up.

He’s not going to let her out of his sight, and I’ll be damned if I let him go in there and ruin this moment for her alone.

“Fine,” I grumble. “But if you go in, we all go in. No one hovers over her, alright? Let her explore.”

Ri gives me a sharp nod, and without another word, we both follow Swyn into the garden. Sol jogs back over, now human again, smirking as he adjusts his clothes, clearly having heard our argument.

“Glad you didn’t piss on the family flowers,” I mutter to Sol as we step over the threshold of the gate.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies, smirking.

The three of us fall in step behind Swyn, the wild garden closing in around us. The air feels thick, like the magic here is alive and watching us.

It makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

OLAND

I watchher from the shadows, my breath caught in my chest as I take in the scene before me. There she is—Swyn, the woman I’ve been hunting, the one I’ve vowed to protect.

But instead of fear, instead of the wariness she should feel after running from me, she’s standing there, her shoulders relaxed, talking tothem.

Three men, moving around her like they belong. Like they’re entitled to stand at her side, to shield her, when it’smyduty, my right to protect her.

My jaw tightens as I watch the bossiest one, the one with the sharp jawline, who seems to be the leader. He stands too close, his eyes never leaving her as though he could claim her with a look.

That should be me.I’mher Watcher. She belongs to me, to the Galdur family, bound by an oath as old as magic itself. The lines of protection we bear aren’t just tradition—they’re life and death, and she’s forgotten that.

Forgotten me.

The second man, damn near identical to the first and just as broad-shouldered, walks beside her like some casual protector, as if his mere presence is enough to keep her safe. I scoff quietly, feeling the pang of jealousy curl in my chest.

What does he think he can offer her? Nothing compared to what I’ve been trained for—decades of bloodlines and power that only I, as the Watcher, can wield.

The family’s magic flows through me as surely as it flows through her, and yet… she stands there, trusting them. These strangers.

And the last one…he shifts restlessly, his eyes darting between the others, ever alert like a predator circling his prey. His hand brushes against her lower back, protective but casual, as if touching her is second nature to him.

Thatinfuriates me the most.




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