Page 30 of This Witch Is Not Wicked

We passed the bakery, cakes and tarts and pies sitting on stands in the window. I’d always wanted to stop in and try one of the treats but never had. I hadn’t been inside most of these businesses, assuming I wouldn’t be welcomed.

I stopped in front of the bakery window, leaning down and admiring the tiny round cake with pink frosting, my mouth watering as I thought over Nevan’s question. “I guess I’m used to being alone.”

“What about your family?” he asked. “You haven’t always been alone. You had to be born to parents. You had to grow up somewhere.”

I thought of the godwitches, how I’d been raised in my mother’s massive estate but not by my mother. The earth godwitch was always too busy for their strange green daughter with deformed magic.

I couldn’t reveal all of that to Nevan, but I could tell him enough of the truth.

“I was mostly raised by servants.” I carefully chose my words. “I never knew my father, and my mother was always too busy for me. The servants didn’t particularly care about me, either,” I said. “They were scared, I suppose.”

Nevan laughed, which I hadn’t expected. “Wow. You must have been as fierce then as you are now.” He said it like he was impressed. “Did you also shove them into bogs? Or is that an honor reserved for me?” His dimples peeked out, and I gave him a small shove that made him laugh harder. He locked gazes with me, and his face sobered. “I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. That sounds like a very lonely childhood. How did you end up here?”

“I ran away,” I said, which was mostly true.

I still remembered that morning I’d woken up to discover all the godwitches were gone. Vanished. At first, I thought something terrible had happened, but whispers spread throughout the land, mortals talking about how the godwitches had departed. Gone to the mythical Otherworld. Left a gift: their magic.

I hadn’t wanted to believe it, but eventually, the mounting evidence made it clear the mortals were right. The godwitches had left voluntarily. A mass exodus that I’d been excluded from. The only godwitch on the entire continent left behind.

“Enid?”

“Mmm?” I looked at Nevan, realizing I’d gotten lost in my thoughts. I straightened and we moved on from the bakery, continuing our walk through town.

“I ran, found a few different homes that never worked out.” More like hundreds of towns I’d come across that I’d tried to fit into. “Until I stumbled upon this place.” I spread out my arms as we passed my cottage. “It felt like home, so I stayed, and that’s what I made it. A home. I’ve been here ever since.”

“Do you ever miss them?” Nevan asked. “Your family?”

“Yes,” I said, “and no.” I shook my head. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does.” Nevan put his hand on my arm, a spark shooting through me at the brief contact. “You probably don’t know this, but I had another older brother.”

That shocked me. I hadn’t known there was a fourth Wolfgang boy. Man.

“Lor,” he said softly. “He died years ago. Or, at least we thought he died.”

“What does that mean?”

He blew out a breath. “Basically, we thought the brotherhood murdered him. We thought that for years. But recently—right before we came here, actually—Wolfe discovered Lor wasn’t dead at all.”

“Then where has he been all this time?” I asked.

Nevan swallowed, eyes going glassy. “Working for the brotherhood. This whole time, he’s been working with our enemy. Wolfe didn’t tell us at first. He was worried about how we’d react, but eventually he admitted the truth. I keep hoping it’s some mistake. That maybe if we find Lor and can talk to him, he’ll reveal he’s being held against his will, that they threatened to kill him if he didn’t work with them. Something. Anything. Either way, I used to miss him so much it physically hurt, but after I found out that he’s alive and with the enemy, I go back and forth between wanting to see him and never wanting to see him again.”

Desperation filled his voice, and it made me feel a little less alone, knowing that even if Nevan hadn’t been through what I had, he could relate to the feeling of being left behind.

I stared at a pot of roses, remembering how much Mother loved that particular creation of theirs. “I always wanted to believe my mother’s absence was a mistake too. That maybe there was some explanation for why they were always gone, why they never paid any attention to me.”

Nevan’s heavy gaze weighed on me. “And did you? Ever find an explanation?”

I shook my head, and his face fell, so I quickly said, “But that doesn’t mean there isn’t one for your brother.”

“No, I guess it doesn’t.” He hesitated. “Your mother should’ve been there for you. You deserved better, Enid.”

“So do you,” I said, thinking about his brother betraying his family. I might not have liked the High Prince of Fairwitch, but the Wolfgangs were good, kind people doing their best.

Nevan’s blue-gray eyes bore into me as we stared at each other. We’d found common ground, something that bound us. My cheeks grew hot at the intensity of his gaze.

Was I . . . blushing? No. Absolutely not. Godwitches did not blush. I most certainly didn’t blush.