Chapter 18
Enid
“Did you eat your broccoli today?” Fiona asked.
I jumped from where I stood at the back of my cottage, whirling to see the little girl standing in the doorway. “What?”
Fiona skipped into the living room, her blue checkered dress lifting with her movement. “You’re looking especially green today.”
I sighed, rubbing my temples and wondering if all children were like this. I should’ve never told her I was green because I ate a lot of broccoli.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Just thought I’d come and say hi.” Fiona came to a stand next to me, squinting. “What are you looking at? I’m bored. Can we do something fun?”
I sighed, sending another glance out toward the far reaches of my bog, right outside the city limits.
Those humans were back again, and this time they’d brought more—with more shovels.
They were determined to find my bones and seemed far too interested in this bog for my liking.
I wanted to tell someone, but I was afraid that the high prince would blame me for their appearance if I did.
Everyone here was so jumpy about intruders.
I turned. I’d get rid of Fiona and then I’d go have a little chat with these pests. “Don’t you have school or something?” I asked.
She looked away and gave a small shrug. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t tell me you’re skipping school to come to my cottage.”
I didn’t particularly care if Fiona skipped school, but I did care that she was doing it to bother me.
I had no desire to be marked as the reason children weren’t receiving their education.
I could just imagine High Prince Cillian summoning me and telling me I was officially exiled because I was luring the Fairwitch kids away from their education.
“Hi, Vine!” Fiona perked up as Vine slithered into the room and right up to her, rubbing against her legs like a damn cat.
She started petting it, and it purred. It actually purred.
“Fiona.” I used my sternest voice. “You can’t just burst in here whenever you want. Remember I can turn you into a cactus.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t believe you. Also, why can’t I?”
I closed my eyes, not sure how to explain privacy to a six-year-old who seemed to have no concept of it. “Because this is my home. I don’t burst into your home, do I?”
She gasped. “You should. You could use more friends. Aunt Harriet and Aunt Maya are really nice. They’d probably feed you.”
Friends were not something I’d ever had. Not the human variety, anyway.
“I know!” Fiona’s brown eyes lit with excitement. “I’m going to throw you a party.”
“What?” I straightened. “No, absolutely not—”
She cut me off, talking faster and faster. “We’ll have cake and tea, and I’ll invite everyone to come be your friend.”
“Don’t do that,” I said, panic seizing me.
“It’s going to be so fun!” Fiona clapped her hands.
“Are you listening to me?” I asked. “I don’t want a party—”
“I’ll tell Ceri to get you a new dress, and I’ll ask Niamh to help with the invitations because I don’t exactly know how to write yet. I know some words—”
“Fiona, no party.”
Vine nodded from its place by her legs, and I shot it a glare. “Do not encourage her,” I whispered.
She was already skipping toward the door. “It’s going to be so much fun. A friend party! That’s what we’ll call it.”
“That’s not a thing.” I pinched the bridge of my nose.
At least I didn’t think it was. I wasn’t exactly up to date on cultural norms.
“See you later!” she said in a singsong voice as she opened the door.
I wanted to continue arguing with the little girl as she slipped out and closed the door behind her, but right then, a blue swirl of magic appeared in my living room, dissipating to reveal another visitor.
* * *
I stared at the faery in shock. “Ambrose, what are you doing here?”
Ambrose raised a thick brow, his golden skin glowing and otherworldly as usual. “Why do you look so surprised to see me?”
“I wasn’t expecting you,” I said.
“I come the same day every month. What do you mean you weren’t expecting me?”
He strode forward, peeling off his shirt to reveal a carved chest and abs that looked like they were sculpted from stone, and pushed me back onto the couch. I gaped up at him, and for some ridiculous reason, all I could see was Nevan’s face.
When I’d sat on Nevan’s lap the other night and wound my arms around his neck, it had felt so easy, so natural, like that was what we should’ve been doing all along.
Then he’d gripped my hips, fingers digging into my skin, and I’d wanted to sink into him.
I’d wished we weren’t in a tavern full of people so I could finish what I’d started and put my mouth on every part of his body.
The way he stared with heated eyes melted me. I’d been so sure he was about to kiss me, then he’d stopped our charade, and I’d surprised myself by feeling disappointment.
But of course he had stopped. This was all pretend, and I needed to remember that. But for a moment, it had felt so real.
“Enid?” Ambrose snapped his fingers in front of my face, and I shook my head, realizing he was straddling me on the couch, pressing kisses to my neck, and I hadn’t even noticed. “What’s gotten into you?”
His accent—the same as mine—felt so out of place. Probably because for the first time in a long time, I’d been interacting with the people of Fairwitch Isle, getting used to their way of speech and tone.
Ambrose ran a finger over my cheek, and I shuddered, my body on fire but not because of the man in front of me. Because of the one I couldn’t have. Not for real.
I shifted under him. “I’m not in the mood.”
Ambrose moved off my lap, settling beside me on the couch. “You’re not in the mood? You’re always in the mood. Last month you practically ripped my clothes off.”
I winced. Ambrose was right. The faery and I had an arrangement, and we’d stuck to it for centuries.
“What is going on with you? You’re acting so strange.”
What was going on with me? I had no interest in exploring that question.
I’d get the next six weeks over with, and then Nevan would be out of my life, and everything could go back to normal. This feeling wouldn’t last. It was all the pretending and closeness that was getting to me.
“Enid.” Ambrose caressed my cheek, and I shivered, his hands so much smoother than Nevan’s calloused ones.
“Next month,” I said before he could say anything else, do anything else. “I’m not feeling well today.”
Ambrose raised an eyebrow. “You don’t get sick.”
I lifted the amulet, that green magic swishing in the bottom. The more it drained, the more human I became. Eventually it would be gone, and I’d be fully mortal, unable to go to the Otherworld where mortals weren’t allowed. “Well, maybe that’s not so true anymore.”
His gaze flicked to my amulet in understanding.
The Fair Folk had been the ones to help me understand what this amulet meant when it had first appeared around my neck.
It had happened right after the godwitches left.
I’d noticed the chain hanging down, the little amulet with glittering green smoke, and I’d gone to the Fair Folk, who immediately recognized the swirling green magic.
It looked a lot like their own magic that swirled around them anytime they used it.
My powers had been infinite . . . until the godwitches’ departure.
The amulet had been full thousands of years ago, but as time wore on and I used my magic more and more, it had begun to drain, and I’d quickly understood that with the deities gone, my powers were finite.
I glanced at the small amount of green magic left. And it was coming sooner rather than later.
Ambrose put a hand on my leg. “Do you need medicine?”
“No.” I needed him to leave. I needed to clear my mind. I needed a reminder that Nevan and I were not actually courting. That we could never be together. “I just want to lie down and rest. I’ll be feeling better next month.”
He stared at me like I was a complete stranger, a hint of sadness in his eyes.
Ambrose and I had been drawn to each other because we’d both been left.
But unlike me, the Fair Folk didn’t care that the godwitches hadn’t invited them to the Otherworld.
They’d been created by Fairwitch, made to serve the godwitches.
But when mortals waged a war against the deities thousands of years ago, the Fair Folk had sided with the humans, earning them Fairwitch’s wrath.
Before Fairwitch left for the Otherworld, they cursed the Fair Folk, making them invisible to all mortals, essentially cutting them off from the world.
Now the Fair Folk resided on Kiln Mountain alone, their population dwindling.
I was the only one who could see them, which was why Ambrose visited me. I was his only option outside of his own people. I was something different. Something exciting. Nothing more.
Ambrose shoved a hand through his thick blue hair. “Okay . . . if you’re sure.”
“I am. Very sure.” Next time Ambrose visited, everything would be back to normal. “Come next month.” I trailed a finger down his bare chest. “And we’ll pick up right where we left off.”
Ambrose gave me one last concerned look before standing to yank on his shirt and disappearing in a cloud of blue and gold magic.
I sat there for a moment, gathering my wits. I couldn’t believe I’d just turned away Ambrose for the first time ever.
Vine curled over the back of the couch, pointing out into the bog. I turned, then gasped and jumped to my feet, just now remembering the humans.
The bog spread out, channels zigzagging through land, stretching all the way to where I’d seen them digging. My heart sank. They were gone.
The next time they came, I would make sure I didn’t miss them. I turned to find Vine’s body facing me.
“What?” I asked with a sigh. “Don’t look at me like that. I just wasn’t in the mood for Ambrose.”
Vine pointed to my heart.
“I don’t like Nevan,” I said defensively, tasting the lie. “He’s okay, I suppose, but there’s nothing between us beyond our deal.”
I wished my body understood that. The area between my legs throbbed as I thought about Nevan, his hands, his lean body, those dimples. Clearly my body and my mind weren’t on the same page.
It was fine. I’d get some sleep and ignore these stupid urges.
I’d been on my own for thousands of years, so how hard could it really be to resist Nevan Wolfgang?