Chapter 12
Enid
Nevan and I walked side by side down the cobblestone road that wound around Fairwitch Isle.
Passersby stared at us, some murmuring and whispering to each other while others openly gawked, no doubt wondering what Nevan Wolfgang was doing with the outcast. An elderly woman peeked out the window of the Deerborn, wrinkles lining her ancient face as she frowned at us from behind the safety of glass.
I scowled at her, and Nevan elbowed me.
“Ow!”
“Smile,” he said out the side of his mouth.
“No one’s smiling at me,” I snapped back.
“That’s a fair point, but they’re not trying to win you over.” His voice was low enough that only I could hear. “Remember, you need votes.”
An elderly man hobbled by with his cane, harrumphing at me, and I hissed at him, making him jump and scurry along.
Nevan groaned. “Enid!”
I waved my hand. “Old habits and all that.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets, shooting me a curious look. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?” I asked.
“Hiss and scowl and grumble at everyone?”
I wasn’t offended by the question. Maybe because I could tell Nevan wasn’t judging me or scolding me. Like with all his questions, he was truly curious.
It could be an act, part of his plan to make everyone believe we were a real couple, but either way, I found myself wanting to give an answer, even if I didn’t necessarily know myself.
“I’m not sure,” I said slowly.
We passed the bakery, cakes and tarts and pies sitting on stands in the window. I’d always wanted to stop in and try one of the treats but never had. I hadn’t been inside most of these businesses, assuming I wouldn’t be welcomed.
I stopped in front of the bakery window, leaning down and admiring the tiny round cake with pink frosting, my mouth watering as I thought over Nevan’s question. “I guess I’m used to being alone.”
“What about your family?” he asked. “You haven’t always been alone. You had to be born to parents. You had to grow up somewhere.”
I thought of the godwitches, how I’d been raised in my mother’s massive estate but not by my mother. The earth godwitch was always too busy for their strange green daughter with deformed magic.
I couldn’t reveal all of that to Nevan, but I could tell him enough of the truth.
“I was mostly raised by servants.” I carefully chose my words. “I never knew my father, and my mother was always too busy for me. The servants didn’t particularly care about me, either,” I said. “They were scared, I suppose.”
Nevan laughed, which I hadn’t expected. “Wow. You must have been as fierce then as you are now.” He said it like he was impressed.
“Did you also shove them into bogs? Or is that an honor reserved for me?” His dimples peeked out, and I gave him a small shove that made him laugh harder.
He locked gazes with me, and his face sobered.
“I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. That sounds like a very lonely childhood. How did you end up here?”
“I ran away,” I said, which was mostly true.
I still remembered that morning I’d woken up to discover all the godwitches were gone.
Vanished. At first, I thought something terrible had happened, but whispers spread throughout the land, mortals talking about how the godwitches had departed.
Gone to the mythical Otherworld. Left a gift: their magic.
I hadn’t wanted to believe it, but eventually, the mounting evidence made it clear the mortals were right. The godwitches had left voluntarily. A mass exodus that I’d been excluded from. The only godwitch on the entire continent left behind.
“Enid?”
“Mmm?” I looked at Nevan, realizing I’d gotten lost in my thoughts. I straightened and we moved on from the bakery, continuing our walk through town.
“I ran, found a few different homes that never worked out.” More like hundreds of towns I’d come across that I’d tried to fit into.
“Until I stumbled upon this place.” I spread out my arms as we passed my cottage.
“It felt like home, so I stayed, and that’s what I made it. A home. I’ve been here ever since.”
“Do you ever miss them?” Nevan asked. “Your family?”
“Yes,” I said, “and no.” I shook my head. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does.” Nevan put his hand on my arm, a spark shooting through me at the brief contact. “You probably don’t know this, but I had another older brother.”
That shocked me. I hadn’t known there was a fourth Wolfgang boy. Man.
“Lor,” he said softly. “He died years ago. Or, at least we thought he died.”
“What does that mean?”
He blew out a breath. “Basically, we thought the brotherhood murdered him. We thought that for years. But recently—right before we came here, actually—Wolfe discovered Lor wasn’t dead at all.”
“Then where has he been all this time?” I asked.
Nevan swallowed, eyes going glassy. “Working for the brotherhood. This whole time, he’s been working with our enemy.
Wolfe didn’t tell us at first. He was worried about how we’d react, but eventually he admitted the truth.
I keep hoping it’s some mistake. That maybe if we find Lor and can talk to him, he’ll reveal he’s being held against his will, that they threatened to kill him if he didn’t work with them.
Something. Anything. Either way, I used to miss him so much it physically hurt, but after I found out that he’s alive and with the enemy, I go back and forth between wanting to see him and never wanting to see him again. ”
Desperation filled his voice, and it made me feel a little less alone, knowing that even if Nevan hadn’t been through what I had, he could relate to the feeling of being left behind.
I stared at a pot of roses, remembering how much Mother loved that particular creation of theirs. “I always wanted to believe my mother’s absence was a mistake too. That maybe there was some explanation for why they were always gone, why they never paid any attention to me.”
Nevan’s heavy gaze weighed on me. “And did you? Ever find an explanation?”
I shook my head, and his face fell, so I quickly said, “But that doesn’t mean there isn’t one for your brother.”
“No, I guess it doesn’t.” He hesitated. “Your mother should’ve been there for you. You deserved better, Enid.”
“So do you,” I said, thinking about his brother betraying his family. I might not have liked the High Prince of Fairwitch, but the Wolfgangs were good, kind people doing their best.
Nevan’s blue-gray eyes bore into me as we stared at each other. We’d found common ground, something that bound us. My cheeks grew hot at the intensity of his gaze.
Was I . . . blushing? No. Absolutely not. Godwitches did not blush. I most certainly didn’t blush.
Nevan shot me another dimpled smile and then led us over to a little stand. I was thankful for the distraction as I fanned myself and hoped he hadn’t noticed how that moment between us affected me.
A short, plump woman placed her hands on the counter. She eyed me warily but smiled kindly at Nevan.
“We’ll take two ciders.” Nevan fished a few coins out of his pocket and dropped them onto the counter.
“Two?” the woman asked, gaze darting to me. “So the rumors are true, then?”
I detested gossip. Unfortunate since it seemed to spread so easily in Fairwitch Isle.
“Yes, for me and Enid.” Nevan put his arm around my shoulder, drawing me in casually. I tried not to stiffen, tried to act like this was all normal for me.
The woman’s eyes widened. “That’s new.”
“It is,” Nevan said, steady and calm, his head held high as he squeezed me into him.
“Okay, then.” She ladled a steaming hot drink into two tin cups, and the scent of spiced apples floated through the air. “You two enjoy.”
I lifted the cup and hesitated but took a sip, a moan escaping my mouth as the combination of sugar, apple, and cinnamon burst on my tongue. “That’s delicious.” I’d never tasted anything like it.
The woman’s face broke out into a full smile—directed at me.
“Thank you, Greta,” Nevan said, pulling me away and back into the street.
The steam from our drinks curled into the air.
“She smiled at me.” I chanced a glance back at Greta, but she was already serving another customer.
“That’s because you said something nice,” Nevan said.
I took another sip of the drink, wondering where this had been my entire life. Any time I’d visited the nearest town, I got in and out as fast as I could, never bothering to try any of the delicacies. Now I wondered what I’d been missing out on.
“You’ve never had apple cider?” Nevan asked.
I shook my head and took another sip, warmth spreading through me. It was early spring, a chill still in the air that the drink chased away.
“You know, I think I have a duty to give you a proper introduction to Fairwitch Isle. We have some of the best bakers, butchers, and restaurants on the continent.”
“And how do you figure that? I thought this place was invisible, that the residents here rarely leave to go anywhere else.”
“It’s true that I haven’t ever been anywhere else,” Nevan admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t know quality when I see it. And we have quality here in Fairwitch.”
“Uh-huh. I’ll be the judge of that.”
“You’d never even tasted cider before. I don’t know if I can trust your judgment.”
“You’ve never been outside of Fairwitch. I think I’ll be a better judge than you.”
I left out the part where I was thousands of years older than Nevan, and therefore, I was almost certain I’d win a who was the best judge contest.
“You know what?” Nevan took another sip of his drink. “We’re going to have a taste-off.”
I frowned. “What in the world is a taste-off?”
“Something I just made up.”
The road split for the first time, the cobblestone part of it continuing to wind around the back side of the castle. Nevan led me toward the dirt road that cut through my bog, cottages dotting the land.
I lifted a brow. “And what does a taste-off entail?”
“We’re both going to try the same dish and rate it on a scale of one to ten. Then we’re going to compare our ratings with other people who’ve ordered the same dish and see who’s closest to the majority.”
I stared at him. “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. It doesn’t even make sense, and it certainly wouldn’t prove who has better taste.”
His smile turned mischievous. “Maybe I’m just making excuses to get you on a date.”
My stomach flipped at the way he waggled his brows. No one had ever flirted with me before, and even if it was an act, I was having fun. I’d been dreading this day ever since we’d planned it, but it was going better than I could’ve imagined. “We’re already on a date,” I pointed out.
“A proper date.” He leaned in as we passed a patch of my snapping flowers, who were snoring, drool dripping from their wide, spindle-toothed mouths. “One where we dress up and eat together over candlelight.”
Eyes peeked out of cottage windows, mouths agape as townspeople watched us.
“I think if we go on a proper date, your entire city might very well collapse.” I nodded toward one of the windows, giving a wave, and the woman abruptly closed the curtain.
Nevan’s nose wrinkled like he was just now noticing all the stares we were getting. He leaned over and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Well, then let’s really give them something to talk about.”
He reached down and threaded his fingers through mine, his hand warm, his skin calloused and rough. We spent the rest of the afternoon walking hand in hand.