The Enchanted Five

Book 1 Chapter 4

The moment Ari stepped off the plane, the cold Scottish air slapped her awake; crisp, sharp, alive. It smelled like rain and pine and something older, something that made the back of her neck prickle. She pulled her coat tighter and followed the stream of passengers toward baggage claim, her suitcase wheels clicking over the tile. Her phone buzzed the second she turned it off airplane mode.

Group Chat — The Cove Coven

Cora: ARE YOU ALIVE

Cina: Did you get kidnapped yet

El: Please ignore Cina

Wynter: Send a picture of the sky. I want to see the clouds.

Ari smiled, warmth blooming in her chest. She snapped a quick photo of the gray, misty airport windows and sent it.

Ari: Landed. Not kidnapped. Clouds are moody, very on brand.

Cora: We miss you already

El: Text when you get to the castle

Cina: If the castle eats you, I call your books

Wynter: Ignore her. Love you.

Ari tucked her phone away, heart aching in that familiar, bittersweet way. Another message buzzed this one from her dad.

Dad:

Landed safe?

Ari typed back quickly.

Yes. I’ll call once I’m settled at the place I’m staying.

Nightly calls, remember?

Dad:

Every night. No exceptions.

Ari swallowed the lump in her throat.

She spotted him immediately. Tall. Broad‑shouldered. Dark hair pulled back at the nape of his neck. A fitted black coat that somehow made him look both professional and dangerous. He held a small sign that read:

A. THORNE

Ari approached cautiously. “Hi. I’m Aribella Thorne.” The man lowered the sign and gave a polite, practiced smile.

“Torin MacInnes,” he said. His accent was smooth, deep, unmistakably Highland. “I’ll be driving you to the estate.”

Estate. Right. The “internship.” Ari nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

He took her suitcase with ease, too much ease, honestly, and led her toward the exit. Outside, the wind whipped her hair across her face, and the sky hung low and heavy with clouds. Torin opened the passenger door for her. “It’s a long drive into the Highlands. If you need to sleep, you can.”

Ari slid into the seat. “I doubt I’ll be able to. Too excited.” Torin’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile, but close. “We’ll see.”

The city faded quickly, replaced by rolling hills, winding roads, and forests so dense they seemed to hide secrets. Ari pressed her forehead to the window. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

Torin glanced at her. “Aye. It is.” They drove in comfortable silence for a while, the hum of the engine blending with the distant cry of ravens overhead. Ari checked her phone again. No service. Of course. She typed a message anyway, letting it sit unsent.

Ari:

On my way to the castle. It doesn’t feel real yet.

She imagined her girls screaming in the group chat. She imagined her dad pacing the kitchen, pretending not to worry. Torin cleared his throat. “You’ll like the estate. It’s old but well-kept. The staff is… eager to meet you.”

Ari blinked. “Eager?”

He hesitated. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had someone come for this program.” Program. Right, the “internship.” Ari nodded, though something in his tone made her stomach flutter. Not fear or excitement. Something in between.

As they rounded a bend, the castle came into view, perched on a cliff overlooking a vast, storm‑dark loch. Its towers rose like jagged stone teeth, windows glowing faintly against the gray sky. Ari’s breath caught. It was beautiful. And intimidating and ancient in a way that made her bones hum.

Torin slowed the car. “Welcome to Dunmarrow Castle,” he said quietly. Ari pressed a hand to her chest, steadying her heartbeat. She didn’t know that the moment she crossed the threshold, the wards would flare or that Bram would feel it like a punch to the ribs, that the castle had been waiting for her. She knew only one thing: her life was about to change.

Torin led Ari through a maze of stone corridors, each one lit by flickering sconces that cast warm light across ancient tapestries. The castle smelled faintly of pine, old books, and something earthy she couldn’t place. He stopped at a heavy wooden door with iron hinges. “This will be your room,” he said, pushing it open.

Ari stepped inside and blinked. The room was… beautiful. Warm and unexpectedly soft for a place built of stone. A large canopy bed sat against the far wall, draped in deep green fabric. A fireplace crackled quietly, filling the room with gentle heat. A window overlooked the loch, where mist curled across the water like drifting ghosts. Torin set her suitcase down. “Dinner will be ready soon. Someone will come fetch you so you don’t get lost.”

Ari laughed nervously. “Is it that easy to get lost?”

Torin’s expression didn’t change. “Yes.”

She swallowed. “Right. Good to know.”

He nodded once, then stepped back into the hall. “Rest a moment. I’ll see you later.”

The door shut behind him with a soft thud. Ari exhaled and let herself sink onto the edge of the bed. Her heart was still racing from the flight, from the drive, from the castle itself. Everything felt too big, too old, too alive. She opened her suitcase to start unpacking. Sweaters. Jeans. Her mother’s journal. And then—

A small wooden box she didn’t recognize. Ari froze. It was tucked beneath her clothes, wrapped in a folded piece of paper. Her father’s handwriting covered the front.

Open when you’re ready.

It’s from your mother.

Ari’s breath hitched. Her fingers trembled as she lifted the box into her lap. The wood was smooth, warm, carved with a pattern she didn’t recognize, swirling lines that almost looked like vines or waves. She slid her thumb along the lid.

Ready. Was she ready? She wasn’t sure. She lifted the lid...

A knock shattered the moment. Ari jumped, nearly dropping the box.

“Come in?” she called, voice unsteady. The door opened, and an older woman stepped inside. Her gray hair was braided neatly down her back, her eyes warm and kind. She wore a simple dress and an apron, but something about her posture radiated authority.

“Miss Thorne,” she said with a gentle smile. “I’m Moira. Head Omega of the household.”

Ari blinked. “Head… what?”

Moira chuckled softly. “Housekeeper, dear. Old title. Old habits.”

Ari relaxed. “Oh. Right. Sorry.”

Moira’s eyes softened, as if she could sense the weight of the moment Ari had been interrupted from. “Dinner is nearly ready, love. I’ve come to take you down.” Ari set the box aside reluctantly. “Thank you. I… appreciate it.”

Moira nodded. Ari followed her into the hall, nerves fluttering in her stomach. They descended a winding staircase, passed under stone archways, and entered a long corridor lined with portraits whose eyes seemed to follow her.

Moira pushed open a set of heavy double doors.

“Welcome to the great hall.”

Ari stepped inside. The room was vast, lit by chandeliers and torches, the long dining table set with polished silver and steaming dishes. Servants moved quietly along the edges, preparing for the meal.

And at the far end of the table—

A man stood. Tall. Broad‑shouldered. Dark hair. A presence that filled the room even before he turned. When he did, Ari’s breath caught. His eyes storm‑gray, sharp, assessing, locked onto hers. For a moment, the world narrowed to a single point.

Moira leaned in and whispered, “That’s Mr. Bram Fraser. He oversees the estate and the historical trust. You’ll be working under him.” Ari swallowed hard. So this was her supervisor. The man the staff whispered about. The man who looked at her as if he felt something shift the moment she stepped into the room.