Page 74 of This Witch Is Not Wicked

My gaze dropped to the crotch of his pants, where a noticeable bulge poked out. “I’d say it’s more your fantasy than mine.”

He blew out a breath. “Come on, before you actually kill me.”

* * *

We entered the little apartment and found Ms. Carragh sitting on a couch with a blanket thrown over her shoulders. The hearth crackled with a fire and the sun shone through the back windows, highlighting all the motes of dust dancing through the air.

Ms. Carragh shot me a surprised look, her wrinkled face crumpling. “Don’t tell me she’s the one stitching me up today.”

Nevan approached and sat next to her on the couch. “No, nothing like that. Enid just wanted to come along and see what I do on a daily basis.”

I arched a brow. That little liar. What was he up to?

I dropped into an armchair by the couch as Ms. Carragh glanced at me out of the side of her eye, drumming her fingers on the blanket. After a short silence, she let out a huff and said, “I never liked the earth godwitch much, you know.”

A surprised laugh escaped me while Nevan studied the older woman’s palm and the angry red cut slicing the middle open. She was definitely going to need stitches.

“Why is that?” I asked.

She waved her hand. “Didn’t get along with the food godwitch.” She pointed to herself. “Our patron at the Deerborn. You might’ve noticed the statuette of them in our restaurant, sitting on the mantel over the hearth. The earth godwitch was always getting upset at the food godwitch for using the crops the earth godwitch grew.” She snorted. “What is the point of growing food if you won’t let anyone eat it?”

“Actually, that’s not why they didn’t get along,” I found myself saying. “The harvest godwitch was mostly responsible for crops, not the earth godwitch.” In fact, the harvest and earth godwitches were often at odds because my mother thought the food the harvest godwitch grew was unsightly. Mother wanted perfectly grown vegetables and fruits, and the harvest godwitch cared nothing for beauty—just practicality.

“That’s the story that was always passed through our family.” Ms. Carragh frowned. “Then why didn’t they get along?”

“The earth and food godwitches didn’t get along because they both fell in love with the same mortal.”

Ms. Carragh’s eyes flashed, and she leaned forward. “That’s juicy.”

Nevan shot me a surprised look as he pulled some sort of tincture from his bag.

“Oh yes.” I still remembered how my mother had been smitten by the mortal woman with the ebony skin and long black hair. A woman who had also been secretly visiting the food godwitch’s bed.

“It almost caused a war.” I remembered that too. The two of them fighting, mortals getting caught in the crosshairs of their feud, which was when the Fairwitch intervened and put a stop to it.

“How do you know all this?” Nevan asked, wiping Ms. Carragh’s palm with a cloth.

“I read it somewhere,” I said as casually as I could. “I do read, you know.”

Nevan raised a brow. “I haven’t seen a single book in your cottage.”

“Maybe you’re not looking hard enough.”

Ms. Carragh sucked in a sharp breath as Nevan shook a few drops from a vial onto her hand.

“Sorry,” he said. “I know it stings.”

“Well, now I don’t like the earth godwitch even more.” Ms. Carragh sniffed. “Sounds like they were a troublemaker.”

Silence descended over us, and I shifted, not sure why she’d shared that with me or what I was supposed to say in response.

Ms. Carragh opened her mouth for minute, words seeming to escape her. “What I’m saying is I don’t mind too much that the statue got destroyed. I think that earth godwitch is overrated. We’ve never had a festival in the food godwitch’s honor.”

I couldn’t help the smile that came to my lips. My mother would’ve hated Ms. Carragh, and for that reason alone, it made me like the older woman.

Nevan pulled out a green thread and a black spindle from his bag. I stared, and it took me a moment to recognize the exact shape and size of that spindle. It had come from my legulias.

“What are you doing with that?” I asked.