Page 83 of This Witch Is Not Wicked
I inhaled through my nose and in a tightly controlled voice said, “You promised that romances always have happy endings.”
Everyone shot each other unsure glances.
“Well, they do,” Niamh said. “Did you not think this was happy?”
“I think the real question is how could any of you possibly consider this happy?”
“She got her true love in the end,” Ceri said, confusion flashing in her green eyes.
“She escaped prison,” Harriet added. “I loved that fight scene.”
Of course the captain of the guard loved the fight scene.
“The part where she thrust that sword through the soldier chasing her was so intense,” Ceri said.
Niamh held out her hands and shushed the group. “Let’s let Enid talk. You still haven’t told us why you didn’t see this as a happy ending. I’m so curious to hear your thoughts.”
The dam broke. “How could I see this as anything but tragic?” I burst out. “Merry did nothing wrong. She came to this town seeking respite. She worked and contributed to society and made friends. People she formed relationships with, who promised she was one of them. Then she sacrificed herself by revealing her magic in order to save them all, and they just”—I flung out my hand—“threw her out like she didn’t matter. Maybe Conan accepted her, but no one else did. All she learned by the end of the book was that she was right all along. That no one would ever accept her for who she was. She and Conan moved to a new town, and she once again was hiding herself from everyone except him.”
The group stared at me, and I realized I was on my feet now, chest heaving, fists curled tight.
“But Conan accepted her,” Ceri said, and the others nodded along. “That was what she wanted.”
“Oh, how lucky for her. And what happens when they’re on the run and Conan realizes how hard life is? What happens when he realizes she’s not worth it?”
“Enid.” Niamh stood and put her hand on my arm. “You’re crying.”
“What?” My hands went to my wet cheeks, and I was horrified that she was right. I was crying over this stupid book. What a waste of my tears.
“The book must have really affected you,” Ceri said. “Do you want to talk more about it?”
“We’re here to listen,” Margaret said, and Harriet nodded.
I opened my mouth, then closed it, realizing Ceri was right. The book had affected me, and it wasn’t until this moment that I understood why.
I was Merry. Or maybe not exactly like Merry, but I saw myself in her. The reason the story didn’t have a happy ending was because in the end, Merry had done everything right—she’d been kind and made friends and saved their lives—and they still rejected her.
If that was what had happened to Merry, what would happen to me if everyone found out my true identity? I’d hardly been kind. I certainly hadn’t contributed to this society in any way, and I’d never saved them from anything.
In fact, I’d terrorized them more than anything else. Maybe somewhere in the back of my mind, I truly thought that one day I could be myself and be accepted. But I couldn’t. This book was proof of that, and I didn’t have a Conan.
I had Nevan and a fake relationship, and even if it was starting to feel real, it couldn’t be because he didn’t know anything about me.
Conan had discovered Merry’s magic, and he’d loved her anyway.
That wasn’t my reality.
If anyone found out I was a demi-godwitch, I’d lose everything, and yet until this moment, I’d been clinging to some false hope that that wouldn’t be the case. This book had proved to me it would. That humans were not so forgiving of liars and those who were different. This author actually thought she’d given Merry a happy ending by forcing her out of the community she’d loved.
“Enid?” Niamh asked, stepping toward me, concern in her eyes.
I backed up and knocked my chair over, stumbling before righting myself. “I have to go. I don’t think this book club is the right fit for me.”
Everyone came to a stand, watching me and staying deathly still like any movement might cause me to bolt.
Niamh’s face fell. “Are you sure?”
“Thank you for inviting me, but I should just . . .”
