Of Thorn and Thread (Daughters of Eville #4) - Chanda Hahn Page 0,59

I didn’t need to read auras to know he was lying. Devin was a born charmer, pretty smile and smooth lies. I knew better than to fall for that dimpled face. He loved the chase. I don’t think he’d be one to settle down soon, if ever. He would always be a free spirit, and I admired that about him.

It wasn’t an overly large inn, but they could accommodate everyone, as long as some men didn’t mind sharing rooms. I heard Berk mumbling that there were four men in his room.

Anna was sweet enough to show me to a small attic with a single cot. The space barely had enough room to stand because of the slanted ceiling.

“I feel bad for sticking you here, but we rarely get so many people at once. I lent out my room, so my sister, Dana, and I are already doubling up. Since you’re the only lady, I thought this would work for you.” Anna fussed about the room, knocking down cobwebs and trying to straighten the curtain rod that had half fallen down.

“It’s perfect, Anna. I enjoy being away from the rest of the group. Thank you for your hospitality.”

Anna beamed and then leaned in close to whisper confidentially. “So, what can you tell me about Devin? Are you two courting?”

I shook my head. “No, he is too rambunctious for me.”

She fiddled with her apron and gave a knowing smile. “Ah, so you like the quiet ones.”

An image of Liam came to my mind, and I blushed. “I do.”

“Do you think if I had hair like moonlight and eyes like yours, then maybe I’d get him to settle down?”

It wasn’t the first time that my unique hair color or pale eyes had come up in conversation. Living in my house where my sisters’ hair color ran from golden to deep red to raven black, my hair color seemed bland in comparison. I never considered it to be anything special.

“Thank you for the compliment, but I don’t think you should change yourself to please others. Now, if you do it to please yourself, that’s different. Love yourself, and others will take notice and love you—for you.”

Anna grasped my hands, and I expected to wince from her touch, but I received nothing. Not even a stray thought or image. I stared at our clasped hands in awe and was reluctant to let them go.

“Can I trouble you for one more thing?” I asked.

“Sure.”

I gave her my list of ingredients for the burn on my wrist. It had scabbed over, but I wanted to continue to treat it so it wouldn’t leave a scar. She promised to see what they had and gave me a wink. “I’ll have my Oma come visit you.”

“Thank you, Anna.”

When she left, I noticed there wasn’t a true lock on the door, but a wooden latch that swiveled and dropped down. The gap in the door was quite large and hardly left any protection.

A candle mark later, an old woman knocked on my door and let herself in. Her back was as crooked as her nose, and her eyes were as wizened as her skin. She muttered in an old language that I hadn’t heard and fussed over my wrist. I thought for sure she would get out the ointment, but she ran a finger over my injury and I felt a tingling sensation. The skin healed.

A hedge witch.

“Gut?” she asked.

“Yes, gut,” I repeated, semi-recognizing the word.

She grinned, showing her missing teeth, and then emptied her colorful carpet bag onto my bed.

“Ves,” she muttered over and over, and tossed out chicken bones, red candles, and a hex bag.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand?”

“Gut, gut.” She spun, holding out an old wooden spindle with golden thread. I stared at the spindle and felt drawn to it, my hand automatically reaching for the tip. At the last second, I withdrew my finger and looked at it through narrowed eyes. There was something magical about it, and I knew to be wary of taking enchanted items from strange, old women.

Oma didn’t seem to like my refusal of her gift. She held it up, pushing it into my hand, forcing me to take it. As soon as I did, I felt a hum of magic, and dropped it onto the bed.

Oma jutted her chin out at me, her wrinkly finger wagging as she launched into a long tirade.

Anna happened to return when her granny was in the middle of her rant. I looked up to Anna