Chapter 19
Nevan
The tube next to me sizzled with green liquid, a cloud of smoke poofing up and spilling out in a fog that filled the lab.
I stared at it, scribbling notes in my journal.
I’d actually gotten a free moment between patients to work on one of my potions.
Enid had been complaining about animals constantly getting into her gardens, so I’d had an idea for a potion that could be used to ward off predators.
It wouldn’t hurt the animals, but it would keep them away.
I’d have to test it, but this was my first creation in a long, long time, and I was buzzing with excitement.
“Oh my,” Margaret said from the painting on the wall. It was the only painting in my lab, one of a field and a sunny sky. I was heavily considering removing it so Margaret couldn’t drop in whenever she wanted. “It is really foggy in here.” She waved her hand in front of her face.
“Hi, Margaret,” I bent over and jotted down a few more notes about the potion before I snapped my journal closed. “Can I help you with something? I’m a little busy.”
She pouted. “If I waited until you were free to come talk to you, I’d never have the chance.”
I crossed my arms and leaned against the counter. “And why do you need to talk to me?”
“Oh, well, Prince Cillian asked if I could check on the progress of his house call idea?”
My mood instantly soured. “My brother sent you? Are you working for him now?”
“Yes.” She sounded far too delighted. “I’m assisting Niamh and now the actual prince. Can you believe it? I’m his official courier.”
“Really?” I asked.
She nodded. “Oh yes. Since I can so easily travel from painting to painting, he asked if I’d be willing to deliver messages all over the castle. It’s so fun, and just between you and me, I get to hear the best gossip.”
I very much doubted that was just between Margaret and me. In fact, she’d probably said this same thing to every person she’d come across.
“That’s wonderful, Margaret,” I said. “Truly.”
I was happy for her, but it rankled that my brother was using Margaret as an assistant, taking additional things off his own plate while adding more onto mine.
I thought about what Enid had asked the other night on our date.
Why don’t you just tell him no? Could I do that?
I took a deep breath, imagining Enid here right now, by my side, scowling at Margaret and telling her exactly where my brother could shove his request. “Tell the prince that I’m not sure about the house call idea. ”
Okay, so I wasn’t exactly saying no, but it was a step in the right direction.
She frowned. “Oh. I don’t think he’ll like that. He was expecting to hear that you’d already started on it.”
Of course he was. “I’ve been busy.”
She wrinkled her nose. “With that?” She pointed at the tube, the bubbles and fog now cleared.
“Yes, with that.”
“What is it?” she asked. “Is it a healing potion?”
“No.” Guilt filled me. That was the type of potion I should be working on as town healer. “It’s nothing. Just an idea I had. I’ll talk to Cillian about the house call thing. You don’t need to worry about it.”
She bit the inside of her cheek, turning to go but hesitating. “Are you okay?”
My eyebrows shot up. “What?”
She studied me. “You just seemed sad for a moment. Maybe I imagined it.”
“I’m fine.” Truthfully, I was more irritated than sad. Irritated by my brother, irritated by this job, irritated that I couldn’t get a second to myself. Mostly, I was irritated by how much space Enid was taking up in my mind and how much I was craving her after that small taste the other night.
I rubbed my stubbled jaw as Margaret bit her lip, worry written across her features. “Does that mean you heard, then?”
I straightened, pulse spiking. “Heard what?” Dread filled my stomach at the way her eyes were crinkling in sympathy. Had something bad happened? Had someone gotten hurt?
She swallowed and shot me a forced smile. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
I narrowed my eyes and stalked toward the painting. Margaret backed away. She never held back from sharing gossip. It was her favorite thing in the world.
“Margaret,” I said. “What do you know?”
“Nothing,” she squeaked, avoiding eye contact.
If she was refusing to tell me, it must be bad. Really, really bad.
“I actually have to go. More errands to run for the prince.”
“Margaret,” I said. “If you know something—”
The door burst open and Fiona skipped in and plopped in my patient chair. “I’m going to throw a party for Enid,” she announced.
“Wh-what?” I shot Margaret a look, her eyes wide.
“She needs friends,” Fiona said. “It’s going to be a friend party!”
“Does Enid know about this?” My lips twitched as I imagined her reaction. She’d get that cute scowl on her face when I told her. She’d absolutely hate a party, but maybe it wasn’t the worst idea.
“Yep!”
“How did she feel about it?”
Fiona grabbed the tweezers, opening and closing them. “She was a little growly, but I think she’ll like it.”
“How about something less formal?” I suggested. “You know, sometimes it’s hard to make friends at a party when there are so many people there.”
Fiona wrinkled her nose. “But more people means more friends. And Enid really needs a friend. She’s always talking to her plants.”
“Right,” I said. “But being around a big crowd can feel overwhelming for certain people. It’s better for those types of people to be exposed to smaller doses of socializing.”
Fiona tapped her chin. “So you’re saying we should start with a small friend party. A few people.”
“Yes.” I leaned down to her eye level. “Exactly. Maybe just Niamh, Ceri, you, and Margaret?” They were the ones who’d helped Enid get ready for our date the other night, and it wasn’t a terrible idea for her to meet with them again.
Fiona popped out of the chair. “Okay! I’m going to work on the invitations. Maybe I’ll invite Ambrose too.”
Margaret squeaked. “Fiona, I think it’s time to go. I’ll help you with the invitations—”
“Who’s Ambrose?” I asked. There was no one with that name in Fairwitch.
Margaret swallowed thickly.
Fiona smiled. “Enid knows him. I was at her cottage yesterday on the front porch, and I heard his voice. I couldn’t see him because the shades were drawn over the window.
I don’t think they’re friends, though. He said something about her ripping his clothes off.
That doesn’t sound like something a friend would do. ”
That dread I’d felt earlier spread through my entire body now.
“Fiona.” Nervous laughter bubbled from Margaret. “I really think that’s enough—”
“He seemed nice.” Fiona skipped to the wall, trailing her fingers over the vines that hung down. “I heard him say he visits Enid every month, and he came to see her, but she said she wasn’t in the mood this time, so he had to leave early.”
“She wasn’t in the mood?” I echoed.
Margaret’s hands went over her face.
Done with the vines, Fiona turned and walked to my potion, rising on her tiptoes to study it in the petri dish.
“Uh-huh. She said she wasn’t in the mood, and he said she’s always in the mood when he comes to visit.
Then she told him she wasn’t feeling well and to come again next month.
” She wrinkled her nose. “This is why she needs a friend party.”
My brain was still stuck on the fact that a man was visiting Enid’s cottage, and it sounded like he was visiting for a very specific purpose.
Enid had a lover. Suddenly I felt sick.
“Fiona,” Margaret said, voice three pitches higher than normal, “why don’t you get to work on the party details? I’ll meet you in the library and help you plan it.”
“Okay!” Fiona smiled brightly as she skipped out of the room like she hadn’t just punched me in the gut.
I slowly turned toward the painting, arms crossed. “How did you know about Ambrose?”
Margaret winced. “Um, well. It turns out I can visit paintings throughout Fairwitch. I didn’t know until recently when Niamh brought me to Enid’s cottage.
Everyone was leaving, and they forgot about my painting.
I’d fallen asleep so I didn’t notice until I woke up, and the painting was still perched against Enid’s couch.
I decided to try and get back to the castle, and it worked.
It turns out, if you take a painting from the castle and put it somewhere in Fairwitch, I can access it.
I went back to tell Enid it was still in her house.
Still perched against the back of the couch. ”
My stomach turned. “And that’s when Ambrose was there.” I hated even saying his fucking name.
Margaret’s eyes shone with sorrow. “I heard Fiona talking about the party. Then she left, and before I could announce my presence, this Ambrose arrived.”
I swallowed thickly.
Margaret bit her lip. “I know I shouldn’t have listened in on their conversation, but, well, you’re my friend, and I thought maybe if Enid was betraying you, you should know. If it makes you feel any better, she did tell him he needed to go, to come back next month instead.”
That didn’t make me feel better. She’d see him again in a month. Close to when our arrangement would be over.
Margaret bit her lip. “I’m sorry, Nevan.”
Fuck. Margaret knowing could put everything at risk. If she went and told the whole castle about this, then they’d all turn on Enid, and our plan would be done. We’d be done. And Enid would be exiled. I couldn’t bear the thought of that.
“Margaret, the truth is . . .” My brain scrambled for an explanation. “We have an open arrangement.”
Margaret’s mouth fell ajar.
“Enid wasn’t doing anything wrong. If she’s seeing some man named Ambrose, she’s not actually betraying me. I just didn’t want you to think badly of her.”
“So you’re okay with this?”
“Absolutely.” I almost choked on the word.
Margaret studied my face. “Are you sure? I understand she’s not doing anything wrong, but when Fiona told you about Ambrose, you looked . . . gutted.”
No, I hadn’t been gutted. I wasn’t gutted. Maybe I was mad that some other man got to fuck Enid when I only got to pretend I was fucking her.
That was probably it, but I wouldn’t admit that to Margaret. “I’m just upset about how careless she’s being,” I said. “No one knows about our arrangement to keep things open. I don’t want anyone thinking badly of her.”
“Right. If you say so. You two just seem so good together. And Enid didn’t seem interested in Ambrose at all. It seemed like maybe her mind was on someone else.” Margaret widened her eyes meaningfully in my direction.
Oh, godwitches. Hope flared in my chest. “You think so?”
Margaret smiled. “Yes! If you’re okay with this open relationship, then that’s fine. But if you’re not, you should say something. Be honest with her about how you feel.”
Except I didn’t know how I felt—other than enraged at the thought of another man touching her. Something I had no right to be.
“Thanks, Margaret. Will do.” I gave her a strained smile.
She stepped toward the side of her painting. “Well, I guess I should go. I do actually have a lot of messages to deliver for the prince and a party to plan now.”
“Margaret?”
She turned.
“Thank you.”
She nodded and disappeared from the painting, and I glanced at the door. I had appointments the rest of the day, but in this moment, I couldn’t care less.
I grabbed my “Out of Office” sign and hung it on the outside of my door. Enid and I needed to have a little chat.