Page 45 of This Witch Is Not Wicked

The bog spread out, channels zigzagging through land, stretching all the way to where I’d seen them digging. My heart sank. They were gone.

The next time they came, I would make sure I didn’t miss them. I turned to find Vine’s body facing me.

“What?” I asked with a sigh. “Don’t look at me like that. I just wasn’t in the mood for Ambrose.”

Vine pointed to my heart.

“I don’t like Nevan,” I said defensively, tasting the lie. “He’s okay, I suppose, but there’s nothing between us beyond our deal.”

I wished my body understood that. The area between my legs throbbed as I thought about Nevan, his hands, his lean body, those dimples. Clearly my body and my mind weren’t on the same page.

It was fine. I’d get some sleep and ignore these stupid urges.

I’d been on my own for thousands of years, so how hard could it really be to resist Nevan Wolfgang?

CHAPTER 19

Nevan

The tube next to me sizzled with green liquid, a cloud of smoke poofing up and spilling out in a fog that filled the lab.

I stared at it, scribbling notes in my journal. I’d actually gotten a free moment between patients to work on one of my potions. Enid had been complaining about animals constantly getting into her gardens, so I’d had an idea for a potion that could be used to ward off predators. It wouldn’t hurt the animals, but it would keep them away. I’d have to test it, but this was my first creation in a long, long time, and I was buzzing with excitement.

“Oh my,” Margaret said from the painting on the wall. It was the only painting in my lab, one of a field and a sunny sky. I was heavily considering removing it so Margaret couldn’t drop in whenever she wanted. “It is really foggy in here.” She waved her hand in front of her face.

“Hi, Margaret,” I bent over and jotted down a few more notes about the potion before I snapped my journal closed. “Can I help you with something? I’m a little busy.”

She pouted. “If I waited until you were free to come talk to you, I’d never have the chance.”

I crossed my arms and leaned against the counter. “And why do you need to talk to me?”

“Oh, well, Prince Cillian asked if I could check on the progress of his house call idea?”

My mood instantly soured. “My brother sent you? Are you working for him now?”

“Yes.” She sounded far too delighted. “I’m assisting Niamh and now the actual prince. Can you believe it? I’m his official courier.”

“Really?” I asked.

She nodded. “Oh yes. Since I can so easily travel from painting to painting, he asked if I’d be willing to deliver messages all over the castle. It’s so fun, and just between you and me, I get to hear the best gossip.”

I very much doubted that was just between Margaret and me. In fact, she’d probably said this same thing to every person she’d come across.

“That’s wonderful, Margaret,” I said. “Truly.”

I was happy for her, but it rankled that my brother was using Margaret as an assistant, taking additional things off his own plate while adding more onto mine.

I thought about what Enid had asked the other night on our date. Why don’t you just tell him no? Could I do that? I took a deep breath, imagining Enid here right now, by my side, scowling at Margaret and telling her exactly where my brother could shove his request. “Tell the prince that I’m not sure about the house call idea.”

Okay, so I wasn’t exactly saying no, but it was a step in the right direction.

She frowned. “Oh. I don’t think he’ll like that. He was expecting to hear that you’d already started on it.”

Of course he was. “I’ve been busy.”

She wrinkled her nose. “With that?” She pointed at the tube, the bubbles and fog now cleared.

“Yes, with that.”