Page 107 of This Witch Is Not Wicked

“Would you believe me if I told you I’m a godwitch? Well, a demi-godwitch.”

“Kaladenid,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I know that already. Tell me something new.”

My mouth dropped open. I closed it, but it dropped open again.

She cocked her head. “Why are you doing that with your mouth?”

“You knew? That I’m Kaladenid, the demi-godwitch of poisonous plants.”

“Yeah, I saw your picture in a book! I asked Morton about the book, and he told me the title: Famous Demi-Godwitches. I knew you had to be magical with the way you command this bog.” She wrinkled her nose. “I thought everyone knew. And that’s why you’re green!”

I laughed, shaking my head at the ridiculousness of this all. I’d tried so hard to keep my identity a secret from everyone, and a seven-year-old had figured it out—and didn’t care.

“You’re my favorite, you know,” Fiona said.

I raised a brow. “Your favorite what?”

“Godwitch!”

My heart squeezed tight, tears springing to my eyes. “I am?” I tried—and failed—to keep my voice steady.

Fiona didn’t even notice my flood of emotions, still petting the perolias. “Yeah. Your magic is unique. Different. And you were alone. Kind of like me after my parents died. Ever since we came to your bog, I’ve felt less alone, though.”

I swallowed, my throat thickening with tears. “Oh,” I managed.

“I’m glad you stayed and didn’t go with the other godwitches. I think you belong here with us.”

I let out a quiet laugh, my heart feeling impossibly tender. “Me too, Fiona. Me too.”

CHAPTER 43

Enid

Nevan lay sleeping next to me in my cottage, the light outside waning. Since we’d admitted our feelings for each other over a week ago, he’d spent every night here. The only problem was that he was very distracting.

Ever since my conversation with Fiona, I’d realized how much I wanted to be a healer, to use my creations in ways they’d never been used before. I’d been studying and reading all the texts Nevan had suggested—or trying to. It was hard when Nevan kept looking at me like he wanted to devour me. Admittedly, I hadn’t gotten a lot of reading done in the last week. But he was asleep now, so I had a book about the different methods for healing superficial wounds splayed open in my lap.

I’d have to shadow Nevan for two years before I could take on my own patients. But we had a plan. I would slowly take more and more of his workload, under his supervision, and he could use that time to work on his potions.

It felt like everything was finally falling into place. About time too.

A swirl of blue magic and smoke appeared, Ambrose stepping through.

I shot a look at Nevan, still fast asleep next to me. He knew about Ambrose, of course, and I’d also revealed the existence of the mythical Fair Folk. Nevan was almost more shocked that they were real than he was about my identity.

But the Fair Folk are children’s stories, he’d said.

It had taken him time to finally come to grips with it. However, I wasn’t sure he was ready to witness me talking to a man he couldn’t see. After all, knowing about the Fair Folk didn’t mean mortals could see them. That was their curse. Forever invisible. Their species dying a slow death.

“I guess I’ve been replaced.” Ambrose crossed his arms as I pressed a finger to my lips and pointed over the railing to the first floor

I got out of bed and padded down the stairs, hoping Ambrose would follow. Vine was curled on the couch, also fast asleep.

“What are you doing here?” I finally asked when I was downstairs.

He gave me a look. “How is it that we’ve done this for centuries and you still can’t remember when we meet?”

Right. Our monthly meeting. So much had happened between his last visit and this one; so much had changed.