Page 16 of This Witch Is Not Wicked

“By insulting her?” Niamh asked.

“Oh, Nevan.” Margaret shook her head, glossy black hair shimmering. “You definitely need a woman’s touch. Listen to Niamh. She’s good with people.”

“I’m good with people,” I said. “I’m the castle healer. I have to talk to people every day.”

“About their wounds and treatment and care instructions,” Morton said. “Not their feelings.”

“Feelings?” I asked, completely lost.

“You clearly hurt her feelings,” Niamh said, exasperated.

“Oh.” I’d assumed I made Enid angry. Not sad. “Well, I didn’t mean to.”

“We know.” Margaret stepped forward in the painting. “You’re sweet, Nevan. But I’m afraid you’re also very naïve.”

I blinked. “So what does a woman’s touch entail, exactly?”

“Well, for one, it means not insulting her and telling her she needs to fit in.” Niamh straightened, twisting a long red strand around her finger. “You know what finally made me realize how much Wolfe loved me?”

“What?” I asked warily.

“When he made an effort. He got to know me, knew what was important. And then he made a point to do something really sweet and personal. That’s how you get her to go public with you.”

I imagined showing up to Enid’s cottage with a bouquet of flowers and being greeted by that vine again. “I don’t know. She’s a bit . . . prickly.”

Niamh drummed her fingers on the counter. “Maybe I can visit her. If you want to reveal her identity?”

Margaret clapped her hands together. “Can I come too? Please, please, please?”

“Godwitches be,” Morton muttered.

“That might overwhelm her.” I thought about the vine taking Margaret’s painting and chucking it into the bog. I wasn’t sure if Margaret could die since she was a painted character that Castle had brought to life, but I also didn’t think we should test that theory.

Niamh pursed her lips. “Well, what things does she like? Maybe we can help you brainstorm a big gesture.”

“Get her a book!” Morton said.

I hadn’t seen any bookshelves in Enid’s cottage. The only thing I knew she liked was her bog, and I wasn’t sure how I could turn that into a gesture. “I can’t tell you what she likes. It’ll be too revealing, and I don’t want to give our relationship away before she’s ready.”

“That makes sense.” Niamh fell into silence, her mind working through this conundrum. “The best advice I can give is to think about what’s important to her and use that as a way to appeal to her. But you also have to speak from your heart about why it’s so important to reveal your relationship. Don’t go at it from a practical perspective. Speak from here.” She tapped her chest.

I wasn’t sure Enid had a heart, and if she did, I certainly had no idea how to speak to it. Maybe I just needed to give up. Admit defeat and admit to my mother I’d lied. All of this wasn’t worth getting thrown into the bog.

Emoire appeared in the doorway. The same woman whose fake wrist sprain I’d treated yesterday.

“Emoire.” I stood. “What are you doing here?”

She twisted her hands together in front of her. “I heard you were in the library and thought I’d come see you. We got off on the wrong foot yesterday, and I wanted to apologize for my behavior and maybe take you out for a drink?”

Niamh raised her eyebrows at Margaret.

Godwitches be. These women would never leave me alone. I’d told Emoire I wasn’t looking for a relationship, and yet she’d still shown up here. My mother had opened a box I couldn’t close, and it didn’t matter how much I told everyone I wasn’t interested. They wouldn’t stop.

Unless I was already taken.

I thought of Enid and grand gestures and what I could possibly do to get her on board with this plan.

“I actually have to go,” I said and pushed past Emoire.