Page 46 of This Witch Is Not Wicked

“What is it?” she asked. “Is it a healing potion?”

“No.” Guilt filled me. That was the type of potion I should be working on as town healer. “It’s nothing. Just an idea I had. I’ll talk to Cillian about the house call thing. You don’t need to worry about it.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, turning to go but hesitating. “Are you okay?”

My eyebrows shot up. “What?”

She studied me. “You just seemed sad for a moment. Maybe I imagined it.”

“I’m fine.” Truthfully, I was more irritated than sad. Irritated by my brother, irritated by this job, irritated that I couldn’t get a second to myself. Mostly, I was irritated by how much space Enid was taking up in my mind and how much I was craving her after that small taste the other night.

I rubbed my stubbled jaw as Margaret bit her lip, worry written across her features. “Does that mean you heard, then?”

I straightened, pulse spiking. “Heard what?” Dread filled my stomach at the way her eyes were crinkling in sympathy. Had something bad happened? Had someone gotten hurt?

She swallowed and shot me a forced smile. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

I narrowed my eyes and stalked toward the painting. Margaret backed away. She never held back from sharing gossip. It was her favorite thing in the world.

“Margaret,” I said. “What do you know?”

“Nothing,” she squeaked, avoiding eye contact.

If she was refusing to tell me, it must be bad. Really, really bad.

“I actually have to go. More errands to run for the prince.”

“Margaret,” I said. “If you know something⁠—”

The door burst open and Fiona skipped in and plopped in my patient chair. “I’m going to throw a party for Enid,” she announced.

“Wh-what?” I shot Margaret a look, her eyes wide.

“She needs friends,” Fiona said. “It’s going to be a friend party!”

“Does Enid know about this?” My lips twitched as I imagined her reaction. She’d get that cute scowl on her face when I told her. She’d absolutely hate a party, but maybe it wasn’t the worst idea.

“Yep!”

“How did she feel about it?”

Fiona grabbed the tweezers, opening and closing them. “She was a little growly, but I think she’ll like it.”

“How about something less formal?” I suggested. “You know, sometimes it’s hard to make friends at a party when there are so many people there.”

Fiona wrinkled her nose. “But more people means more friends. And Enid really needs a friend. She’s always talking to her plants.”

“Right,” I said. “But being around a big crowd can feel overwhelming for certain people. It’s better for those types of people to be exposed to smaller doses of socializing.”

Fiona tapped her chin. “So you’re saying we should start with a small friend party. A few people.”

“Yes.” I leaned down to her eye level. “Exactly. Maybe just Niamh, Ceri, you, and Margaret?” They were the ones who’d helped Enid get ready for our date the other night, and it wasn’t a terrible idea for her to meet with them again.

Fiona popped out of the chair. “Okay! I’m going to work on the invitations. Maybe I’ll invite Ambrose too.”

Margaret squeaked. “Fiona, I think it’s time to go. I’ll help you with the invitations⁠—”

“Who’s Ambrose?” I asked. There was no one with that name in Fairwitch.