Malus

Chapter Twenty-Five

"Jon." Melissa interrupted the argument with a sharp stare. He stood motionless for a moment before he clamped his mouth shut.

"Osred, you need to leave."

"Arval, please. There's still the matter of the circle—"

"Oh, I know," Jonathan snapped. "Sorcerers have come down before they've received treatment to pester him about it. I'm sure he'll explain everything as soon as his soul fully reattaches to his body!" He stepped out of the woman's way, hands on his hips. Before he shut the door on her, he added, "Thanks for stopping by," with a heavy dose of derision.

"Is it safe to say she's one of the unwanted visitors?" Melissa asked. Jonathan brought his chair a few feet over to sit beside her and set the brown bag in between them.

"She tops the list," he muttered. "But she's gone, and the kids are doing fine. I don't know about you, but I am starving. Unfortunately, the castle rarely stocks up. We've got moderately stale bread and a handful of mini butter portions."

"The breakfast of kings," Melissa said, accepting a thick piece of bread and a small package of butter. They began talking as they ate, telling stories and describing places, asking and answering.

After the sun had well cleared the horizon and the hallway started to fill again with the dramatic hustle and bustle, the conversation rolled around to the battle that put so many magicians in critical condition—or six feet under.

Jonathan didn't linger on the topic for long. He brought up a new matter for discussion as quickly as he could.

"Never mind that," he said. The man lowered his voice and leaned in sideways. "You owe me something, my dear."

Melissa grinned widely. "That I do." She tipped her head toward his and laced their fingers together.

"Jonathan Arval," she began, "I am a thirty-five-year-old woman. I had children at nineteen, and have been a parent over everything else for the last sixteen years. I've dated to appease my mother, but I haven't been committed to a romantic relationship since you—also known as 1991. Mind you, I never had a particularly bad date. But then I would go home and see my little girl...and instantly remember everything about you. Jon, if that doesn't prove to you how hopelessly in love with you I've been for the past seventeen years, I don't know what will."

His lips slid up in a content, slanted smile. He tilted his head to one side and pulled her into a soft kiss.

"Definitely worth waiting for," he whispered into her hair, then sealed the words with a firm kiss to the top of her head.

#

Bronte was at the perfect level of warm and cozy. She felt a heavy blanket on top of her and the sun was keeping her toes toasty. She rolled onto her back and stretched.

"Bronte?" came a quiet question. "Are you awake?"

It was her mother, speaking in a soft whisper. "No," she replied. The girl turned away from the voice, her head lying on her arm.

"Yes you are," Melissa said firmly. "Get up, I need to talk to you."

"About what?" she mumbled grouchily. She looked back at her mother with an annoyed squint.

"Bronte Marland." Her tone was scolding, but there was a hint of distress. "Are you aware that you have been unconscious for the past two days?"

For a moment, she stared at the woman like she'd lost her mind. The memory came slowly, first spurred by a closer observation of her surroundings.

"Oh my God," she breathed, sitting up. Melissa placed a hand on her shoulder as she raked a worried gaze over the girl's face.

"Take it easy. You're pale, baby. Do you need a glass of water?"