Page 12 of The Tanglewood Witches (The Three Sisters 1)
“That looks ominous.” She slid off his back and gave in to the irresistible urge to scratch him behind the ears. He didn’t seem to mind. “I think it’s time I turned you back, don’t you?” she said, cradling his nose. “Whatever is behind that wall might view an ass as their next meal. At least as a man you might stand half a chance of surviving.”
She opened her satchel and began mixing herbs in her mortar, mashing them together with her pestle. Once they’d formed a thick paste, she held the mixture up to his muzzle. “Eat this.”
He sniffed the concoction, sneezed, and turned his head away.
“It’s not ambrosia, but certainly you can choke it down. I can’t turn you back without it.” She thrust it under his nose again.
He brayed and showed his teeth but eventually found his courage and managed to swallow it. His gut and throat undulated, and she worried he might spit it out. That would be unfortunate. She didn’t have enough herbs with her to make another mash. Praise Zeus, he managed to eat it all.
The change happened quickly. All the hair on the donkey’s back dropped off, and he stood straight up. His nose receded into his face, the bottom of his legs transformed into sandals, and before Alena could thank or curse the gods that his clothing had transformed with him, Orpheus was again standing before her, fully human. He rubbed his back with both hands and fixed her with an accusatory stare. But when he opened his mouth, only a bleat came out.
He gasped.
“I promise you, that isn’t intentional. I was joking before. Give it a moment.” Alena laughed softly.
After clearing his throat, Orpheus managed to say, “It’s about time!”
“I was tempted not to change you back at all.” Alena stood from her spot next to the tree.
“That’s not funny.” He grabbed her by the shoulders, his eyes narrowing on her face. “Tell me the truth. You didn’t need to wait, did you? That excuse about the water needing to move through my system was all a lie.”
“What makes you think so?”
“No water has left me, woman. In fact, I rather need to void myself at this very moment.”
She shrugged and pointed toward the wall. “But look how close we are to the next challenge. We could never have traveled that fast on foot.”
He scoffed. “You used me!”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she rolled her eyes at him. “Gods, don’t I know what that feels like.”
He grunted defensively. “I did not use you that night or ever. I rather cared for you. It was you who refused me after those harpies embarrassed you, remember?”
“Because you lied to me. We kissed. We did…things. I told you stories I’d never told anyone.” She whispered the last part as if someone might hear her, her cheeks warming as she said the words.
“I didn’t lie. I simply allowed you to believe a lie. There’s a difference.”
She snorted.
“I admit that I knew you thought I was an archon and did not correct your misconception. I apologize for that.”
She glared at him out of the corner of her eye. “How big of you.”
“But you should admit that, had you known the truth about me, you would never have spent time with me. You, Alena, are an elitist.”
She scoffed in denial, but internally the accusation made her pause. It had all started with his hair—his beautiful, natural hair. That’s what had caught her attention on the ship. Very few men wore their hair the way he did. Most shaved to keep vermin at bay. His hair was his own, not a wig. She’d thought he must be a man of wealth and importance to have kept his own hair. Hers was natural as well, but she had magic to thank for that. It had never occurred to her that his might be the product of magic as well. The dark waves had been and still were a delight and fascination to her.
So when three crew members had suggested his wealth came from his station as a magistrate of Athens, an archon, she’d believed it. He’d captivated her with his Greek complexion and fine garb, and they’d talked late into the night for the entire voyage.
“It was humiliating.” She remembered the way the old women had looked at her when she’d admitted who she thought he was. They’d corrected her in the most public way and made her feel like a harlot for arriving to the feast on his arm. “I might have given you a chance if I’d known the truth.” But even as she said it, she knew it was a lie. New to Alexandria, she’d wanted to get to know people who could help her position, not cut her hair.
“Hmm. I’m sorry you were embarrassed, and I should have told you the truth about my occupation, but nothing else was a lie. What I told you about my father was true—he did not agree with me leaving Athens. He thought my coming to Egypt was a sin. And what you told me about your mother’s death—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
He placed his hand on her shoulder and, with his other, swept her into his arms.
“What are you doing?”
