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Thessa ignored him, her nose high.
Unloading the barrels, Emiel repeated his question, “So I’ll run back for the last barrel?”
Soren rolled his eyes. “Fine.”
Thessa and Leora jostled their heads in silent conversation and then Leora spoke for the pair—one of Thessa’s favorite parts about their friendship. “We could help carry the last barrel.”
“No, you can’t—” Soren started.
Emiel objected, “Yes, they can. They’re quarter barrels, together they’ll be fine.”
Soren pursed his lips, shaking his head at Emiel. They were having a silent conversation of their own, it seemed.
Leora interrupted, “Listen to Emiel. You have little time before the festival begins, and we can help. I’m Leora by the way.” She tilted her head to the right before saying, “And this is my friend, Thessa.”
Emiel shouted at him, “Load ‘em up.”
Soren’s nostrils flared as a barrel rolled and landed perfectly beside Thessa, as if it were magicked to.
Thessa peered down at the oak cylinder, bulging slightly at its center. She may not be strong enough to carry this alone, but she could manage it with Leora.
Soren stepped closer, hoisting the barrel up for them. When his gaze locked on hers, she couldn’t help but see what was missing. His eyes were as dark as a moonless night, like any light that’d been there, was stolen away.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “Those arms look quite small.”
Thessa furrowed her brows. “Hand it over,” she ordered, then looked over to Leora and said, “Keep it low for me.”
Leora nodded, each of them gripping their end of the barrel before Soren let go.Thessa’s knees buckled at the shift of weight.
“Commanding little witch you are,” Soren noted.
His arrogance was slithering under her skin. “Shall I drop it on your foot, or should we get on with it?”
“Thessa!” Leora objected, “She doesn’t mean it, it’s been a long day.”
Soren grinned. “For us as well.” He yelled back to Emiel, “Roll me the last one, tie my horses, and let’s get out of here.”
Thessa mumbled under her breath, “And I’m the commanding one?”
As the four witches lugged their barrels on the path toward town, Leora asked, “Where were you two coming from?”
“Wilcrest,” Emiel answered. “I take it you’re both from Mabelton?”
“We are now. We left Gravenport about a month ago.”
Soren muttered something unpleasant before Emiel shushed him and asked Leora, “How do you like it?”
“It’s been wonderful, I like it very much, but it’s nothing like Sanabria.” Leora’s smile was serene.
“You’re from Sanabria?”
She nodded. “Captiva, it’s in the south.”
“I hope to make it there one day.”
“I’d be happy to help with travel suggestions.” Leora paused before adding, “If you’d like.”
Emiel’s eyes lingered on Leora’s; her burgundy lips curled in response. His questions about the eastern continent flowed from there, occupying Leora, and filling Thessa’s head with mindless words.