Page 25 of This Witch Is Not Wicked

Cillian spread out his arms. “Well, I changed my mind. You’re exiled. Goodbye.”

Sir Arthur grabbed her arm again. “It’s the guillotine for you!”

Cillian held up his hand. “Sir Arthur, as you well know, those are outlawed and have been for centuries.”

“Then it’s the dungeons for you!” He started to pull Enid away, and she shot me a wild, terrified look, which propelled me into action.

I jumped to my feet. “Stop this at once!” I yelled.

Everyone froze, including Sir Arthur, and I was surprised by the authority in my voice.

“You can’t arrest her or exile her,” I said.

Cillian’s brows furrowed. “Why not?”

“Yes, why not?” Wolfe asked, staring with his deep brown eyes.

Mother’s gaze bounced between me and Enid, and Niamh sat frozen, her fork inches from her mouth.

“Because she’s the woman I’ve been courting!” I burst out.

No one said anything, apart from Sir Arthur. “Courting? This deviant? Then we’ll throw them both in the dungeon!”

I took Enid’s hand and tugged her toward the table, everyone staring at us in shock. Even Cillian had been struck silent.

“You and the witch—Enid?” my mother said faintly, hand going to her chest.

I cradled Enid’s hand in mine, bringing it to my lips and pressing a gentle kiss on her palm. Her sweet rose scent washed over me, leaving me slightly dizzy. “Yes, me and Enid.” I looked around the table, Niamh the only one smiling, and it was that small gesture that gave me the courage to continue. “I know this is probably a shock.”

“Probably?” Cillian grabbed the jug of wine, drinking straight from it.

“How did this happen?” my father asked, pushing his spectacles up his nose. His question was more curious than horrified, which I was grateful for.

My father and I were similar in that respect. We tended to want to study things, understand them, before judging or making assessments.

Enid and I looked at each other, and I realized how unprepared we were for this. We hadn’t discussed anything. I knew nothing about this woman. Of course my family would have questions about our relationship, and I didn’t have any answers.

“She saved me from drowning,” I said at the same time Enid said, “I threw him into the bog.”

Mother squeaked, her hand coming to her mouth.

Sir Arthur stepped forward. “That’s attempted murder. According to the Godwitch Manifesto, the punishment should match the crime, so we must throw her into the bog as well.”

Amusement flashed in Enid’s brown eyes, so dark they almost looked black. “I’d like to see you try. Besides, that’s a bastardization of that law. It doesn’t mean the punishment should be the same as the crime—just that the severity of it should be the same. Throwing me into the bog wouldn’t equal what I did to Nevan because I can swim.”

I widened my eyes at Enid, trying to tell her to shut up. Also, since when was she an expert on the Godwitch Manifestos? We didn’t follow that Manifesto anymore, and it was typically only historians who argued the nuances of the many laws inside it.

“Well, then,” Sir Arthur’s deep voice rumbled, “I’ll just hold your head under water. That would be the equivalent of you throwing a man who can’t swim into water, correct?”

Enid tapped her chin thoughtfully, not looking as remotely horrified as I felt right now.

“Nobody is shoving anyone’s head under water,” Cillian said. “Sir Arthur, thank you for your service tonight, but I think you should get back to your post. Wouldn’t want anyone else slipping into the castle undetected.”

“Yes. I must continue to uphold the veils of justice!” Sir Arthur marched out of the room, armor clinking and clanking as he went.

I turned back to my stunned family, everyone sitting there, staring.

“She threw you into the bog?” Cillian asked, a look of horror on his face.