A Little Green Magic (The Little Coven #1) - Isabel Wroth Page 0,74
a name. You and your family will all be fine. See you in a few months. Love, Mom.' Huh. Guess even the most famous oracle in the world is as cryptic as your everyday divination expert.”
The phone pinged again. Whatever Juliet read made her lips pinch, and her face turn pink with embarrassment. Juliet didn't share what it said, and neither did Astrid. What Astrid did say, helped.
“My mom is the most powerful oracle in the world. If she says we're going to be fine, we'll be fine. So let's decide as a group how to make the first move.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Even in the bright light of day, Uriah couldn't stand being more than a few feet away from Ivy. He held her hand, constantly having to remind himself not to hold on too tight and accidentally crush her fragile bones.
She was quiet, deep in thought, while they walked across the coven lands. The sun beat down on them; birds and insects hummed an easy rhythm despite the lions who wandered through the long grass.
The breeze made the feminine ruffles on Ivy's green sundress flutter and sent tendrils from the long tail of her braid streaming out behind her. After having spent hours coming up with a plan to make the first move against her father, she seemed calm. Too calm.
Her sandals hung from her fingertips, and with every step she took, he could feel the ground respond with a subtle vibration. He glanced behind them, watching the grass that had been dry and ready for mowing turn emerald green, lush and vibrant once again.
Part of the plan was for Ivy to use her unbound magic to broadcast her location as though she had no idea she was being hunted.
They were headed to the meadow Ivy wanted to use as the meeting place, the rest of the coven at home making preparations, mixing up potions and pouring over Callie's textbooks regarding Fae, discussing in the open how Ivy would go about binding her powers at the right place at the right time.
Rowena and Ivy hoped nothing came of it, but they couldn't rule out the Brownies taking the information back to a fairy contact, who would then relay the message to Ivy's father.
In secret, Rowena talked to a lawyer with extensive experience in making deals with Fae and got advice on how to keep Ivy from making the same mistake her mother had.
Uriah might have agreed to the plan, but the longer he had to think about it, the more he regretted it and gave serious thoughts to running. He wanted to take Ivy and get the hell out of dodge, not walk the property like they were just out on an afternoon stroll.
Ivy stopped suddenly, making adrenaline flood his system in a hot rush. He crowded her, pulling her to his chest while he scanned the area for any signs of danger.
“What? What is it?”
Four tawny heads lifted out of the grass, ducked back down, and surrounded them seconds later with fangs exposed. Uriah would never say it, but he was impressed with the lion's reaction time.
Ivy didn't have any such problems. “I love the way you just appeared out of nowhere like that, guys. You sure you don't have a little witch in there somewhere? Cause that was magical.”
The lion that was Abel managed to make a leonine sound of offense, jerking his head up, clearly demanding to know what Ivy's problem was. “Sorry, false alarm. You can, uh, return to duty.”
Abel gave Ivy a disgusted look, but with a signal to the others, the lions melted away into the long grass with barely a whisper of sound. The hiss of the wind through the grass made their movements practically invisible. Had Uriah not known what to look for, he would never have seen them.
“Sorry!” Ivy shouted after them, getting only the annoyed flip of a black tufted tail in response. To him, she apologized again. “I'm sorry. I've been looking for the courage to tell you something since we left the house, and I stopped walking because I found it.”
Uriah nodded, shaken more than he cared to admit. He hugged her tight, one hand cupping the back of her head with his lips pressed to her forehead, breathing in the scent so unique to her. Honeysuckle, citrus, and the grossly offensive scent of fear, sickly sweet in his nose. She was every bit as terrified as he was.