I straightened and looked up at him. “A deal?”
“You need to be smart in the village. None of your games.”
I stared at him and I felt my light heart drop a notch.
“My games?”
“You’re Cora Hawthorne here.”
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“You,” he answered.
“I’m Cora Goode,” I told him.
“Yes, love, you were until you took my name.”
Oh. Right.
And his last name was Hawthorne. Noctorno Hawthorne. All together that was a pretty badass name.
“So, what I’m saying is, you’re Cora Goode Hawthorne here,” he went on.
“Well, I’m kind of Cora Goode, um… Hawthorne everywhere.”
“No,” his face went ultra serious, “you’re this world’s Cora Goode Hawthorne.”
My heart started to feel heavy.
“What?” I whispered.
“I think you understand me.”
“These people know me?”
“You’re Cora Hawthorne,” he explained without explaining.
“You mean,” I moved closer to him and whispered, “they know I’m a bitch?”
“No,” he answered.
Oh man!
My heart skipped.
“You mean they know I started the curse?” I breathed.
He sighed in a way that indicated he was seeking patience and he replied, “No, Cora, they know you’re a Hawthorne.”
He pulled back on the reins, Salem stopped but I felt my brows draw together.
“What does that mean?” I asked but he didn’t answer.
He swung his leg around, dismounted with practiced ease then his hands spanned my waist and he pulled me down and set me between him and Salem.
Close between him and Salem.
Then he tipped his chin down, caught my eyes in the bright lights of the gaily lit lanterns and muttered, “Right, your game.”