Chapter 11
Enid
Iarrived at Nevan’s lab the next evening. It was nestled at the top of a tower, and shockingly, Sir Arthur had escorted me, seemingly forgetting about his threats to chop off my head with a guillotine just the previous day.
Now I stood here, Nevan nowhere to be seen, which gave me time to look around. This had been the first room in the castle I’d seen two years ago.
After it hit my bog, I’d woken up in this room. To this day, I still couldn’t figure out how that happened.
I was dripping wet, scared, and confused when Nevan appeared in front of me, a complete stranger babbling about his lab being back, asking me questions.
My first instinct had been to attack, but I was so weak it wasn’t much of a fight. Nevan had easily overtaken me, then tied me to a chair.
Suffice to say, the two of us had a contentious beginning, and we hadn’t spoken much since then. Not until this proposal of his.
I walked around the room, trailing my fingers over the wooden countertops, observing all the shelves and objects.
I didn’t feel comfortable in most spaces in Fairwitch Isle, but as I took in the vines hanging down the walls, the bunches of herbs dangling from ceiling, the potted plants in the corner, I felt at ease.
Wooden shelves hung over the countertops, and I ran my nails over the grooves of the smooth wood.
Tubes, vials, tins, and jars filled the shelves, some of them empty and others containing mysterious powders and liquids.
I stopped at the large windows that showed the sinking sun over the Cragh.
From the top of this tower, my entire bog spread out, green and wild and filled with beauty.
I tilted my head, watching the way the waning sunlight filtered through the stained-glass panes that lined the edge of the window.
They were all different shades of green, reminding me of the many colors of my home.
“Enid.”
I whirled to see Nevan standing in a doorway on the side of the room.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you were here.” He was drying his hands with a cloth, and I wondered if he’d been cleaning himself up after a day of healing.
“That’s because I didn’t announce myself.” I leaned against the wooden counter, getting a glimpse of the room behind Nevan as the door closed and he entered the lab.
I could’ve sworn I’d seen a bed. Maybe Nevan lived here, had an apartment attached to the place he worked.
He walked toward the wooden island in the middle of the room and leaned over, elbows resting on the counter. “I’m sorry about last night. I think my family was just a little taken aback.”
That entire encounter had been ghastly. I’d come to the castle, hoping to speak to Nevan about some of my concerns, when I’d been accosted by that ridiculous suit of armor and dragged to his family dinner.
“They weren’t taken aback. They were horrified,” I said, thinking about their wide eyes, open mouths. “Horrified by me.”
The only one who’d been even remotely pleasant was Niamh.
He grimaced. “Right. Well, mentioning that you threw me into a bog probably didn’t help.”
“They asked how we met.”
“You can lie, Enid,” Nevan said. “And you didn’t throw me.”
I thought about our first real encounter, how Vine had dipped Nevan into the bog. “Well, I thought that would be better than describing in detail how my python vine grabbed you, hung you upside down, and shoved your head underwater.”
To my surprise, Nevan burst out laughing. “So you can lie. Just maybe need to work on the lie itself.”
My lips twitched, and Nevan studied me, his gaze taking me in in a way that made me squirm.
“So why am I here?” I crossed my arms.
He straightened and looked away. “Right. Yes. We need to get to know each other so things like last night don’t happen again.”
“I thought the entire point of this was to not actually date. If you’re going to have to get to know me, to parade me around, why not just date someone for real?”
This was already a lot of effort.
“Because this is temporary,” Nevan said. “And you won’t monopolize my time like a real relationship would. I can see you publicly once or twice a week. I don’t have to spend the night at your cottage or meet your family.”
I winced. That was true. Especially when I had no family for him to meet.
“Get to know each other how?” I asked, already not liking where this was going.
“Your favorite color,” he said. “Your favorite comfort meal.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Comfort meal? What is a comfort meal?”
He adjusted his spectacles. “Like if you’re sick or have had a rough day and just want to eat something that will make you feel better.
My mother always made me this soup I loved with these thick noodles she’d make by hand and chicken and herbs from her garden.
Every time I’m feeling down or unwell, that’s what I crave. ”
“Well, that explains why I’ve never had a comfort meal. My mother was much too busy to ever cook for me.”
His eyes widened, and I realized what I’d just said. That I’d just spoken out loud about my mother to someone. I hadn’t spoken about them for . . . centuries.
Nevan was staring at me like I had two heads. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “Doesn’t sound like a very good mother.”
That was an understatement.
“So what would be your favorite comfort meal?” He traced the top of an empty potion bottle, finger going round and round. “If you were sick, what would you crave?”
“I don’t get sick,” I said absently, fingers pinching my amulet.
“What?” Nevan asked.
I winced. Dammit. Something about this man and his innocent curiosity cracked me open in a way I wasn’t used to.
The problem was I kept saying things I shouldn’t have been saying.
As a demi-godwitch, I rarely succumbed to illness.
I glanced at the liquid in my amulet. Maybe that would change soon enough.
I cleared my throat. “I have an excellent immune system is all I meant.”
“Right,” he said, still staring at me in this mystified way. Like he was awestruck or something.
“If I were to get sick, I suppose I’d love a good cup of tea. Ginger is my favorite. Always makes me feel better.”
I could only get that type of tea in town, and I hadn’t been to town for years. Fairwitch didn’t appear to have a tea shop, but even if it did, I doubted the owner would welcome me.
“Okay.” Nevan eyed me, lips tipping up into a smile, dimples showing. “Well, I just learned something new about you. See? Not so bad.”
“Chicken noodle soup,” I said, remembering his comfort meal.
“Ginger tea,” he said back, and it felt like progress, no matter how small.
He turned to face a chalkboard that hung on the stone wall. “I wanted to start making a list of questions or things we should know about each other.” He grabbed a piece of chalk and started scribbling on the board, then paused and turned. “We should also set some boundaries.”
“Like what?”
The tips of his ears turned red. “Like what we’re allowed to do and not allowed to do. Last night when I grabbed you and pulled you into me, you hesitated. I didn’t know if it was okay that I did that, and I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”
“Oh.” I straightened, unsettled by his observation.
I wasn’t used to physical touch, even innocent touches.
When Ambrose had visited, it was about sex.
Nothing else. But when Nevan touched me, it felt intimate in a way I’d never experienced with anyone.
None of the godwitches or demi-godwitches ever wanted to touch me, to have anything to do with the godwitch of poisonous plants.
“If we’re going to do this convincingly, we’ll have to touch a little bit,” Nevan said. “Holding hands, hugging, my arm around your waist. Those types of things. Are you going to be okay with that?”
I thought of Cillian’s words last night, how he’d been so close to exiling me. The only reason I was still here was because Nevan had announced our relationship. If I wanted to stay in my home, I didn’t have much choice.
I crossed my arms. “Yes, that’s fine.”
“Are you sure?” Nevan asked.
I looked at him and realized every time he’d touched me, it hadn’t actually made me uncomfortable. It had just been surprising.
I steeled my shoulders. “I’m sure. I am capable of showing affection, you know.”
Just because I’d never done it didn’t mean I couldn’t.
He grinned, those damn dimples appearing again, annoyingly charming. “Really? I thought all you knew how to do was throw people into your bog. Or threaten to, anyway.”
I found myself smiling back. It was clear he was teasing, and it wasn’t mean like I was used to when people threw insults my way. It was like he was enjoying this. Having fun with me, and for whatever reason, I was having fun too.
“How about our first date?” he asked, scribbling the words on the chalkboard.
My stomach dropped. “Date?”
His smile turned apologetic. “If we’re courting, we have to be seen out and about. Is there anything you’d like to do? Maybe a drink at the tavern or dinner? We could take a stroll together and window shop.”
I’d never heard of a such a thing. I wasn’t sure how you shopped for windows.
Either way, every single one of those options sounded like torture. But he was right. We needed to do this, and we needed to do it properly.
“You plan a date,” I said. “Tell me the time and place, and I’ll be there.”
He let out a relieved sigh and turned back to the chalkboard, chalk hovering. “Okay, so favorite color? Let me guess: green.”