This Witch Is Not Wicked (Brothers of Fairwitch Isle #2)

Prologue

Enid

Isat in my favorite place in the bog, pruning purple germanias that could kill a person with their poison.

Wet soil surrounded my hands, and I dug a hole for the seedlings that would grow into new, beautiful flowers. The germanias might have been deadly, but they were gorgeous to look at.

A patch of fully grown purple germanias sat next to me, their petals a stark violet that I’d always loved.

If one were to try to cut them from the stem, the petals would release a toxic gas that would make the victim lose consciousness.

One poor soul had ventured into my bog to try to steal my flowers, only to find themselves unconscious seconds later.

Lucky for them, they hadn’t inhaled enough of the poisonous gas to die, but unlucky for them, they’d woken up to one of my vines dragging them out of the Cragh.

They’d never returned.

I arched my neck to do a quick sweep of the bog, my gaze roaming over the murky green channels that snaked and zigzagged through patches of marshy land. The sun had barely risen over the horizon and lit everything in a golden hue that slashed through the low-hanging fog.

Vine slithered beside me, the upper half of its body raising into the air.

It opened its mouth as a fly flew by, chomping the little insect and swallowing it.

Usually my python vine preferred larger prey like fish and crocodiles, but every once in a while, an insect would suffice as a very, very small snack.

“I’m just finishing planting these new seeds,” I said.

A fish jumped out of the water, and lightning fast, Vine jabbed forward, catching the creature in its mouth.

“You’re getting faster,” I said. “Only took you a thousand years to finally catch a fish mid-jump.”

Vine’s body constricted as the fish slid into it, and its mouth closed and formed back into a slit that was barely visible.

That was the whole point. Vine looked like a, well, a vine.

No one suspected how deadly it was until it was too late and Vine was wrapping around its prey, its mouth opening to devour it whole.

I loved all my creations, but Vine might have been my favorite.

Across the channel, Ambrose stumbled from my cottage onto the front porch, searching for me. Blue and gold shimmers swirled around him as he disappeared and reappeared in front of me.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

He tsked. “Not exactly my idea of pillow talk.”

I rolled my eyes as Vine coiled around one of Ambrose’s legs. The faery—one of the mythical Fair Folk—winced and kicked out his leg, making Vine hiss as it constricted.

“Will you get this thing off me?” Ambrose pointed at Vine.

Ambrose didn’t usually venture out to my gardens. He didn’t like my creations, and it was always easier for us to pretend that it didn’t matter in the dark of my bedroom, as we used each other’s bodies.

But in the light of the morning sun, this was a reminder of why we weren’t more than just lovers.

I considered letting Vine continue to wrap itself around the faery and teach him a lesson, but I reminded myself that Ambrose wasn’t my enemy—in fact, he was the only person who ever visited.

“Vine.” I snapped my fingers, and it released Ambrose’s leg.

The faery straightened his broad, muscled shoulders, and I took a moment to admire his chest, visible through the open top of his almost transparent golden shirt. “What are you doing out here so early in the morning?” He stretched and yawned.

I took a handful of soil and covered the seeds I’d planted, patting the mound flat. “Isn’t it rather obvious what I’m doing?”

Ambrose crouched and lay his hand over mine, his gold skin such a contrast to my moss-green skin. “So what does this little monster do?” He nodded toward my germania.

I winced at his use of the word monster, at the way he said it so casually, and looked toward the jagged green Kiln Mountains, far in the distance, where the Fair Folk lived. “It’s time to get back to your home, Ambrose.”

He sighed and shoved a hand through his thick blue hair. “I figured maybe we could . . . talk? Spend some time together outside of the bedroom?”

My head snapped up as I gaped at him, and he shot me one of his charming smiles.

“Can’t. I’m busy.” I continued planting my seeds, refusing to meet his gaze. “I’ll see you next month.”

Silence stretched between us, and I finally summoned the courage to look up, but Ambrose had already disappeared.

Vine hovered over me, and I glanced up and sighed. “I wasn’t that mean.”

Vine nodded emphatically, and I rolled my eyes, feeling a lot like a child being chastised. I’d spent far too much of my life being judged for my actions, and I didn’t need that from Vine right now.

It wrapped around the amulet hanging from my neck, shaking it, the green inside swirling in a frenzy of glitter and smoke that reminded me of things I didn’t want to think about right now.

I snatched it back, nestling it into its place against my heart.

Vine worried too much, and I was tiring of it.

“I’ve got my bog,” I said, “and that’s all I need.”

I dropped a few more seeds into another hole and covered them with soil.

Plump, dark clouds filled the sky, blocking the sun. It would rain today, so there was no need to water the seeds.

My stomach grumbled, and I realized I hadn’t eaten breakfast. I stood, dusting my hands on my baggy green gardening dress, then walked to a row of bright red peppers and picked one, biting into it.

I’d bartered for these seeds on one of my trips to a nearby town, which I tried to make as sparingly as possible.

I’d always wished I could grow food that wasn’t poisonous, but the first time I’d tried to create a batch of cucumbers, I’d made my mother sick to their stomach.

I still remembered how angry they’d been, even though they’d recovered quickly with their immortal body.

It was that moment I discovered the only way I could grow edible food was by trading for seeds to plant instead of creating them myself.

I’d learned to stop trying to be something I wasn’t and to only use my magic in ways that benefited me.

Across the water, rows of cucumbers, squash, radishes, and sweet potatoes lined a patch of land, all of them poisonous.

I didn’t eat those, of course. Those particular vegetables were for any mortals who decided to steal food.

They’d take their loot, get sick, and never come back.

I had many, many ways of scaring off humans to ensure my bog remained free of them.

I continued munching the red pepper and wiped the sweat from my forehead with the back of my arm, admiring my little haven.

A lily pad floated in the water in front of me, and I stepped onto it, Vine slithering next to my foot as we moved toward my cottage.

It rose to eye level, pointing at Kiln Mountain.

I shot Vine a sharp look. “I don’t need friends. I’m doing just fine on my own.” I’d done fine on my own for thousands of years.

The lily pad brought us closer to my little cottage, the bog water lapping gently against the front porch.

I’d found this cottage abandoned almost five hundred years ago, and I’d fixed it up and made it habitable.

Moss and flowers covered the wooden roof while logs made up the walls.

Various types of succulents hung down, making it look earthy and cozy.

Vine snapped like a whip, and I turned to scowl at it.

“I have not been snapping at you more lately.”

Vine nodded.

I crossed my arms. Had I been grumpier than usual the last few months? Perhaps. I glanced down at my amulet, wondering if that might have been the cause of my grumpiness.

Vine pushed my head, turning it so I was staring at the Kiln Mountains.

I threw up my arms, frustrated by this conversation. “You don’t even like Ambrose. Why would you want him to come back?”

Vine jabbed my heart.

I snorted. “I don’t love him.” I wasn’t sure I’d ever loved anyone—except my plants. “But I suppose I liked his company. Either way, I can’t just go out and make new friends. Mortals don’t understand me. They already stare when I come into town.”

I’d made up so many stories over the years to explain away my green skin: I’d gotten the pox as a small child; I’d eaten a magic plant that had turned me green; I’d fallen into the Cragh.

I liked that one in particular because it made the townspeople even more wary of coming near my home.

No one wanted to risk falling in the green water and turning the same color as me.

Vine just slumped in resignation.

A rumbling filled the air and jolted me from my thoughts, the lily pad trembling under my feet. We were halfway across the channel, getting closer to my cottage, but the lily pad stopped. Ripples spread out from the water in circles, and I stilled, my whole body growing cold with dread.

“What is that?” I asked Vine.

It twisted its body around as if looking for the cause of the noise, just like I was. I shielded my eyes, staring off into the distance, but I didn’t see anything.

“Is it an earthquake?” That wasn’t normal for this area.

Maybe there was a mudslide coming from Kiln Mountain. That had happened once, long ago, and I’d had to use an enormous amount of magic to keep my bog safe. I’d called on all my plants and commanded them to create an impenetrable wall that would keep the mud from burying us all.

I’d had to sleep an entire week to recover.

What had been trembles turned into quakes, and I lost my footing, lurching forward onto the lily pad.

The reeds around us shrank into the water, and my flowers closed their petals. Lily pads around us disappeared under the water’s surface.

Vine slithered in front of me, pointing upward toward the sky, and my blood ran cold. Something was barreling toward us, creating a storm of wind and smoke, causing enough of a disturbance to shake the whole Cragh.

“Godwitches be,” I murmured, attempting to stand on trembling legs. “What is that?”

The object came closer, and I squinted, recognizing stone walls, peaks, towers, windows, and balconies.

“It’s a castle,” I murmured in awe. How was a castle falling from the sky?

Vine coiled around my waist, trembling. This castle would crash into us and destroy everything, and there was nothing I could do about it. My magic couldn’t save us from this.

I swallowed thickly, and Vine tugged me toward the water. I supposed that was the only thing I could do. Jump and swim deep enough that I hoped I survived. If I could hold my breath for that long.

I stood, frozen by indecision as the roaring got louder, the shaking grew more intense, and the castle got ever closer.

Vine tugged me harder, but I resisted, part of me feeling like I should stay here with the bog as the castle destroyed it. This was my creation, and I should stand tall like a captain with its ship going down.

“No,” I started, but was cut off as Vine yanked me off the lily pad.

My body hit the frigid, murky water hard, and I was instantly plunged into darkness as Vine dragged me down, down, down.

I struggled against its viselike grip, but there would be no escaping. How many times had I seen it wrap around its victims as they fought fruitlessly? One only escaped Vine when it wanted them to.

It dragged me deeper, my lungs burning. Because of my immortal lineage, it would take much longer to drown than a mortal, but it still hurt. Water swirled around me in every direction, and fire spread through my chest as my lungs screamed for air.

Above, a horrible crash hit the earth, the shockwaves pushing me this way and that with violence, Vine finally letting go of my arm. A vortex sucked me in, and I spun so quickly I couldn’t make sense of anything. My head pounded, my vision growing blurry.

The castle. It must’ve landed. Shite.

And that was the last thought I had before everything went dark.