“She did it gently,” Roan said, his pride evident as he began wiping down the counter, though it hardly needed it. “But I’m sure you can imagine.”

  Abigail let out a grunt. “I wouldn’t want to be him.”

  “Me neither,” Roan said. “So you can see why he isn’t coming back. Not that I would allow him to, even if he wanted to.”

  Abigail found the thread that matched the deep green the best before inspecting the tear once more to ascertain where she should start. She placed the needle at the edge of the tapestry and tested carefully to see if she could push it through, but the needle slipped through and pricked her finger.

  “Ouch,” she said, shaking her hand before bringing her finger to her mouth to suck on the prick.

  “What’s wrong?” Roan asked, dropping the pitcher he had been moving and hurrying to her side.

  Abigail inspected her finger, watching as a tiny dot of blood welled up. “I just pricked myself. I don’t think I got any blood on the tapestry.”

  Roan took her hand in his, inspecting it for a moment, before leaning forward and placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “I’m not worried about the tapestry. I care more about you.”

  At his words, a beam of light began to show from her finger.

  Abigail’s eyes widened.

  Was this the end of the curse?

  Chapter thirteen

  Roan

  Roan stared at the beam of light coming from the blood on Abigail’s finger and his eyes widened at the implication.

  Was…was this really happening?

  Was that it?

  Had they really broken the curse after everything?

  How had Abigail pricking her finger broken the curse?

  There had to be something else.

  He thought back to the moment the man had pointed the wand at him, and the light had poured out of it. There was no other reason for light to appear like that, and he’d said that when Roan could care for something more than he cared for his tavern…

  Roan blinked. He’d told Abigail that he didn’t care about the tapestry.

  “We did it,” he breathed. “That was the curse. I had to care about something more than my tavern. And I care about you.”

  Abigail’s breath caught, and he looked down at her, his lips curving up into a smile.

  “You were right,” he said. “We did figure it out.”

  “I told you we would,” she said, smiling up at him as he brought her hands to his chest, leaning in closer.

  Her gaze dropped to his lips, and his heart beat faster as she seemed to lean closer, too.

  If it wasn’t Abigail, he might have simply swooped her up and kissed her in his excitement for the curse to be broken. But this wasn’t any woman. This was Abigail—his Abigail—and he had no intention of scaring her away by moving too quickly.

  “Roan,” she said quietly, even as she moved closer, “we should—”

  Footsteps sounded outside the room, and they pulled away from each other to look up as the men stumbled out of the storage room.

  They looked terrible.

  Roan grimaced. “Hello, gentlemen,” he said. “Had a good sleep?”

  Conrad slumped over the bar as he settled on his favorite bar stool.

  “I feel like I haven’t slept in a week,” he said. “What was in the ale last night? I’ve never felt like this before.”

  “Let me get you sorted,” Abigail said cheerfully, hopping up and pushing the tapestry toward Roan. “I’ll be right back.”

  She practically ran to the kitchen, and Roan addressed the men staring at him like they hadn’t just witnessed Abigail running away from him.

  “We need to get you all some food,” Roan said. “We discovered a batch of ale had gone bad after we’d served it to you. We will be testing all of them going forward to make sure it never happens again. Your tabs have been forgiven, and Abigail is going to get you some soup right away to help settle your stomachs.”

  The men grumbled to each other as they all settled into the booths and around the tables.

  Roan didn’t feel like joining them. He’d been so close to kissing her before they all interrupted—and even if they didn’t realize what they’d done, he was grumpy about it.

  “It was a good night, though,” Tanner said, looking at everyone. “I never expected to see you dancing like that, Edgar.”

  Edgar grunted. “I never expected it either, but one does not say no when a young woman like Miss Abigail offers to dance with you.”

  The men guffawed, and Roan grinned as he headed toward the kitchen to check on Abigail, who was—as he’d expected—quickly heating up soup. Roan reached for the stack of bowls and laid out eight of them, collecting eight spoons and setting them inside before grabbing two trays.

  Abigail began pouring the heated soup into the bowls, and Roan sliced the bread, anticipating her every move as he shuffled around her and put a piece of bread on top of each bowl. They worked in harmony, and not for the first time, Roan couldn’t imagine a world where he didn’t have Abigail working with him.

  “What do you think about the time thing?” he said quietly.

  “I’m expecting the man who cast it to be back this afternoon,” she said. “And I assume that we’re picking up where we left off, but I don’t know. I’ve never dealt with a spell that manipulates time before.”

  “I didn’t forget,” he told her.

  Abigail set the pot down and looked up at him, chewing on her bottom lip. “I didn’t either,” she said. “But I don’t know if that means there’s more coming, or if we will forget once we fall asleep, or if we’re simply not going to forget. I’ve never done this before.”

  “You already said that,” he pointed out.

  “It’s still true.” Her voice wobbled. “Roan, I don’t know—”

  Beastie slipped into the kitchen through the swinging door and let out a yip.

  Abigail sighed and looked up at him, her eyes growing misty.

  “We’ll talk in a minute,” Roan said, reaching for her and pulling her into his arms for a hug.

  “We need to bring them soup,” she mumbled into his chest.

  “Take a deep breath first.” His gravelly voice rumbled through his chest, calming her.

  Abigail obediently took a deep breath before pulling away from him and reaching for a tray. He grabbed the second and made his way out of the swinging door, holding it open for Abigail.

  They were met with weak cheers, and they quickly served bowls to each of the men.

  “You’re a good dancer, Miss Abigail,” Tanner said, the young man’s eyes full of admiration.

  Roan tamped down the jealousy that surged forward. Tanner was no competition, no matter what his gut tried to tell him.

  “Thank you, Tanner,” Abigail said, patting his shoulder in the way she would pat Beastie’s head.

  Roan grinned. No, Tanner was no competition.

  “You know, I haven’t danced like that in years,” Edgar told Abigail as she served him his bowl. “You sure did take something out of me.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said sweetly, turning the spoon so Edgar didn’t have to reach for it. “I hope this will help.”

  Roan wasn’t sure if she had enhanced the soup or not, but everyone ate it so quickly, he could see their bodies beginning to perk up again.

  He was glad to see it—he felt less guilty as he watched them grow hale and hearty before his eyes again.

  “I think they’ll be all right,” Abigail said quietly as she came up next to him behind the bar, slipping her hand into his. The way she did it automatically made Roan feel lighter.

  “Hey, Abigail, another bowl!” Travis shouted.

  “Excuse you,” Roan growled, starting forward, but Abigail pulled back on his hand and he stayed.

  “I mean—could I have more, please, Miss Abigail?” Travis asked meekly.

  “I would be happy to get you more,” Abigail said with a winning smile as she hurried over to collect his bowl and return to the kitchen with it.

  Roan fixed Travis with a glare, and the man withered, leaning further back in his seat.

  “I think perhaps we had all better watch ourselves when it comes to Miss Abigail,” Conrad teased. “I think we may have had something growing right under our noses.”

  Roan made eye contact with all the men in the room, daring them to say something, but they didn’t, and he nodded in approval.

  The door opened.

  All the blood in Roan’s body rushed to his head, and he could hear it roaring in his ears as the man who had cursed him walked in with a grin.

  “Hello,” he said, sounding a little disappointed. “I see you’ve managed it.” He looked around the room. “Oh, wonderful job.”

  “No thanks to you,” Roan spit out.

  “Ah, let’s see. I think it’s all thanks to me,” the man said with a glint in his eye that Roan didn’t like. “Without me, you never would have discovered how to love someone other than this dusty old place.”

  “It’s not dusty,” Tanner said, and Roan would have laughed if he wasn’t so upset that the man was back. “It’s actually quite clean.”

  Conrad agreed. “Much cleaner than I remember it being.”

  Roan tried not to laugh.

  “That’s beside the point,” the sorcerer said. “I don’t think you realize I was rooting for you all along.”

  “Of course you were,” Roan ground out.

  “I suppose I shouldn’t pick one of the roses outside, though,” he said with a dangerous glint in his eye.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Roan muttered.

  The man laughed. “Yes, I think my experiment was a success. How far back did you go?” he asked. “Just for curiosity’s sake.”

  Roan didn’t say anything. Everyone in the tavern was watching, and he didn’t want to clue them in. The less they knew, the better. He didn’t want them sniffing around Abigail and discovering her secret.

  “I think you’d better leave,” he said.

  But then the kitchen door opened, and Abigail walked in.

  Roan’s heart just stopped as the sorcerer turned, his expression changing when he saw Abigail, glaring at her.

  “I don’t need to leave,” he said, “because that’s my daughter.”

  Chapter fourteen

  Abigail

  Abigail’s stomach twisted as she looked at her father.

  How had he found her?

  And how dare he think that she would be willing to let him stay?

  And more importantly, was he the man who had cursed Roan? How had her father gotten so tangled up in time magic?

  “I am no longer your daughter,” she said as firmly as she could, hoping her voice would not tremble and betray her nerves. She stepped up next to Roan—perhaps standing with him would give her strength. “You lost the right to claim me when you tried to force me to marry a man who didn’t want me.”

  He gave her a sickly-sweet smile. “Now sweetheart, you know I was only trying to provide for you.”

  Abigail began trembling. This is what he always did, and what she’d let him get away with for most of her life. She’d stopped letting him use her magic, but she’d never been able to stand up to the rest of his abuse.

  “Abigail is under my protection, and I won’t have you intimidating her, no matter what you think you’re allowed to do.” Roan’s voice was strong and sure, even as he stared down the man who had cursed him.

  If only she had that strength.

  She couldn’t believe this was real. How had her father gotten to the point of cursing people?

  He didn’t look well. His hair was unkempt, his beard looked as if he hadn’t trimmed it since her would-be wedding, and there were holes in his cloak.

  Holes that she would have mended for him.

  “She’s my daughter, and she’s going to help me.” Milton Lohndrey’s eyes grew wild, and Roan stepped between the two of them. “She’s always helped me.”

  She should have known that he was the man behind the curse. She hadn’t known anyone else who was strong enough to cast something like this…but she never would have guessed that he’d turn to dark magic. Where was he getting the power? The dragon eggs that he pilfered were not strong enough to cast such a spell.

  She poked her head around Roan’s shoulder to watch as the man who’d raised her grinned at her.

  Maybe she shouldn’t have looked around Roan.

  She reached for Roan’s hand, but he flinched away from her, and Abigail suddenly felt as if she might vomit. Did he think she had something to do with this?

  She’d had no idea that it was her father. Perhaps she could have guessed, but she’d had no reason to assume he’d appear after so long and curse Roan.

  Did he even know she was here when he cast the spell? Probably not, or he would have been more calculated.

  She sighed, pain slicing through her chest. If only she could have guessed that it was him before this had become an issue.

  Before Roan assumed she was in cahoots with her father.

  “Now, my precious little Abigail, you’re going to help me,” Milton said.

  “Help you?” she scoffed. “I would sooner help anyone in the world than I would help you do anything ever again.”

  “You are nothing more than my pawn,” her father said.

  The words hit hard. She had been raised by him to believe that they were true, that she was nothing without him, that she was only there to amplify his own power.

  But she had learned differently in the past year.

  She had learned that she was strong enough on her own, and that she had a power inside of her that was worth more than he had ever let her believe.

  She knew that now, and she would never forget it again.

  “You’re wrong,” she said, stepping forward to stand beside Roan, whether he wanted her to or not.

  At least he didn’t step away from her.

  “I am so much more than someone who is only meant to be your puppet. I would never dream of helping you hurt someone I care about, and I will never help you ever again. You may be my father, but I want nothing to do with you. I never wish to see you again.”

  Her father pulled his wand out of his pocket and pointed it at her. “You’ll regret this,” he said.

  Roan immediately pushed her behind him, stepping forward to take the brunt of her father’s wrath, but Abigail fought her way around him. He was not allowed to sacrifice himself for her.

  “You taught me that the only thing I was useful for was amplifying other people,” she said firmly, “but I am more than that, and I’m not going to let you destroy this home that I have built for myself and the other people here. You do not have that power.”

  If someone had asked her to describe how she could use her magic, she couldn’t have answered. It came from inside her. Her power didn’t show in a flashy ball of light like her father’s, or a potion like an herbwitch’s, or even come borrowed from a dragon egg.

  It was a part of her, and when she wanted things to be something, they became it.

  As she spoke the words, proclaiming this tavern to be her home and a safe place for all who entered it, she could feel it becoming true.

  This was her magic, and it was more powerful than she could have ever imagined.

  Her father turned a sickly yellow-green and stumbled back, his wand faltering as her magic made him unwelcome.

  “This tavern is a safe space for all who enter it, and it will not become a place of fighting and hurt because of you. You need to leave and never come back,” Abigail said steadily, “or I will let Beastie repay you for hurting Roan.”

  Beastie let out a fierce bark, and Abigail took special delight in watching the fear on her father’s face. “She’s already practically ripped someone’s arm off once before,” she added.

  Her father’s eyes widened, and he put his wand back in his pocket. “You’re not worth it,” he said, snarling at her. “You never have been.”

  He turned and fled.

  Abigail was instantly surrounded by the men of the tavern as she stumbled backwards, beginning to tremble from the use of that much magic at one time.

  Tanner and Conrad were the first to reach her. Tanner threw his arms around her and squeezed her tight until Conrad peeled him off. “Leave her alone, kid,” he warned.

  Edgar, the grumpy old coot, was exuberantly patting her on the back, and Travis and Tom offered their congratulations and thanks…but that was it.

  Where was Roan?

  Abigail turned to find Roan a full three paces back, his arms crossed across his chest and an unsettling look on his face.

  “I didn’t know,” she said simply. “If I had, I would have told you.”

  Roan didn’t say anything, so she took a step forward. “I know you have no reason to believe me. I know that you must be scared he’ll come back again because of me, or he’ll somehow find a way to use me against you. You must think that I’m a terrible human being because he’s my father, and I promise I’m not.”

  Her heart was in her throat as she took another slow step. His face hadn’t changed, and his eyes were studying her like he had never seen her before. “You are the best man I have ever known, Roan. You are strong and brave and kindhearted, and yes, you’re a little grumpy, but I know that you would never willingly hurt me.”

  All the men in the tavern were watching, but she knew she had to say the rest or she’d never forgive herself. “No matter how much I want a future with you, if you can’t because of my father, I will understand, and I will go, and I will never come back, because you deserve to find happiness no matter who it’s with. I can only hope that the woman who steals your heart will know exactly how lucky she is.”

  She closed the last step between them and looked up at Roan, her eyes pleading for him to understand. “I love you, Roan. So whatever is going through your head right now, I desperately hope that it has something to do with the fact that you love me, too.”

  “Have I ever told you before that you talk too much?” Roan asked, the corner of his mouth turning up into a smile as he leaned down and cupped her cheek with his hand before pressing his lips to hers.