Chapter 29
Enid
Nevan gripped my hand tight as he led me toward the Deerborn.
“We’re making a house call where we had our first date?” I asked as we approached the log building. A sign that read Deerborn swung in the wind overhead as we entered through the front door.
It was early morning, and the tavern was empty, not yet open.
Nevan let go of my hand, striding forward. “We’re here to see Ms. Carragh.”
The older woman who’d served us our food. I remembered, but I had no idea why Nevan had wanted me to come with him.
“What’s wrong with her?” I asked.
“She cut her hand yesterday, needs me to evaluate the wound.”
That sounded incredibly boring. “If you’re going to invite me on a house call, at least make it something good.”
He raised a brow. “Good?”
I shrugged. “I want to see you heal something impressive, like an impaling.”
He gave a laugh of disbelief. “You know you can’t heal an impaling, right? If someone gets impaled, there’s no coming back from that.”
I trailed my finger along the rough stone of the hearth, its chimney stretching all the way to the ceiling. “Too bad.”
He walked toward the little staircase tucked into the back wall by the kitchen. “She lives in an apartment over the tavern.” He carried a satchel, and I assumed all his medical supplies were in there.
“I have a more exciting idea,” I said, walking toward a nearby table.
Nevan stopped in the doorway and turned. “Oh?”
“How about we memorialize our first date by recreating me sitting on your lap?” I patted the chair.
Nevan sent a quick look up the stairs. “We can’t do that.”
I gestured to the empty space. “I don’t see anyone here.”
He licked his lips, gaze dipping to my breasts, and I knew he was actually considering it. “This is a restaurant. That would be incredibly . . . unsanitary.”
“It would also be incredibly fun.”
“Ms. Carragh is expecting us. What if she comes down here looking for us while you’re . . .” He gestured to the chair. “On top of me. She’d have a heart attack.”
“Good thing you’re a healer, then.”
He smiled, dimples appearing. “You’re trouble.”
“But the good kind,” I said.
Desire flared in his eyes. “Oh, definitely the good kind.”
My blood heated, but I gave an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. But if you want me to walk up those stairs and watch you stitch up this old lady, you’re going to have to stop looking at me like that.”
He cleared his throat and adjusted his spectacles. “Then you’re going to have to stop filling my head with all your fantasies.”
My gaze dropped to the crotch of his pants, where a noticeable bulge poked out. “I’d say it’s more your fantasy than mine.”
He blew out a breath. “Come on, before you actually kill me.”
* * *
We entered the little apartment and found Ms. Carragh sitting on a couch with a blanket thrown over her shoulders. The hearth crackled with a fire and the sun shone through the back windows, highlighting all the motes of dust dancing through the air.
Ms. Carragh shot me a surprised look, her wrinkled face crumpling. “Don’t tell me she’s the one stitching me up today.”
Nevan approached and sat next to her on the couch. “No, nothing like that. Enid just wanted to come along and see what I do on a daily basis.”
I arched a brow. That little liar. What was he up to?
I dropped into an armchair by the couch as Ms. Carragh glanced at me out of the side of her eye, drumming her fingers on the blanket. After a short silence, she let out a huff and said, “I never liked the earth godwitch much, you know.”
A surprised laugh escaped me while Nevan studied the older woman’s palm and the angry red cut slicing the middle open. She was definitely going to need stitches.
“Why is that?” I asked.
She waved her hand. “Didn’t get along with the food godwitch.
” She pointed to herself. “Our patron at the Deerborn. You might’ve noticed the statuette of them in our restaurant, sitting on the mantel over the hearth.
The earth godwitch was always getting upset at the food godwitch for using the crops the earth godwitch grew.
” She snorted. “What is the point of growing food if you won’t let anyone eat it? ”
“Actually, that’s not why they didn’t get along,” I found myself saying.
“The harvest godwitch was mostly responsible for crops, not the earth godwitch.” In fact, the harvest and earth godwitches were often at odds because my mother thought the food the harvest godwitch grew was unsightly.
Mother wanted perfectly grown vegetables and fruits, and the harvest godwitch cared nothing for beauty—just practicality.
“That’s the story that was always passed through our family.” Ms. Carragh frowned. “Then why didn’t they get along?”
“The earth and food godwitches didn’t get along because they both fell in love with the same mortal.”
Ms. Carragh’s eyes flashed, and she leaned forward. “That’s juicy.”
Nevan shot me a surprised look as he pulled some sort of tincture from his bag.
“Oh yes.” I still remembered how my mother had been smitten by the mortal woman with the ebony skin and long black hair. A woman who had also been secretly visiting the food godwitch’s bed.
“It almost caused a war.” I remembered that too. The two of them fighting, mortals getting caught in the crosshairs of their feud, which was when the Fairwitch intervened and put a stop to it.
“How do you know all this?” Nevan asked, wiping Ms. Carragh’s palm with a cloth.
“I read it somewhere,” I said as casually as I could. “I do read, you know.”
Nevan raised a brow. “I haven’t seen a single book in your cottage.”
“Maybe you’re not looking hard enough.”
Ms. Carragh sucked in a sharp breath as Nevan shook a few drops from a vial onto her hand.
“Sorry,” he said. “I know it stings.”
“Well, now I don’t like the earth godwitch even more.” Ms. Carragh sniffed. “Sounds like they were a troublemaker.”
Silence descended over us, and I shifted, not sure why she’d shared that with me or what I was supposed to say in response.
Ms. Carragh opened her mouth for minute, words seeming to escape her. “What I’m saying is I don’t mind too much that the statue got destroyed. I think that earth godwitch is overrated. We’ve never had a festival in the food godwitch’s honor.”
I couldn’t help the smile that came to my lips. My mother would’ve hated Ms. Carragh, and for that reason alone, it made me like the older woman.
Nevan pulled out a green thread and a black spindle from his bag. I stared, and it took me a moment to recognize the exact shape and size of that spindle. It had come from my legulias.
“What are you doing with that?” I asked.
He poked the thread through the end of the spindle, where he’d punched the tiniest hole, barely perceptible.
“It turns out your spindles are incredibly useful. It’s hard for us to find materials in Fairwitch Isle.
We trade to the best of our ability, but a lot of times, we’re low in essential supplies.
” He held up the black spindle. “These are perfect for sewing and stitching. I had the idea after I treated Mr. Porter.”
I gazed at the little spindle in disbelief. “You mean this is useful for something?” I couldn’t wrap my mind around it.
Nevan nodded, his eyes softening. “Very useful, it turns out.”
Ms. Carragh sniffed. “Are you two going to keep making those eyes at each other or are you going to stitch me up already?”
The tips of Nevan’s ears turned red, which was adorable.
“Can I come closer?” I asked, and Nevan nodded.
I wanted to see this up close. I got off the chair and knelt in front of Ms. Carragh. She looked away from the wound.
“Don’t like needles,” she said. “My Elowyn says it’s ironic, given my propensity for knives and threatening to stab my enemies with them.”
Nevan’s eyes bugged, but I found myself liking this woman even more. “Do you often threaten to stab people?”
“Oh, all the time.” She winked at me. “I’ve made a lot of enemies over the years.”
That made two of us.
Without thinking, I took her uninjured hand in mine, then stared down at the thin wrinkled skin in contrast to my own green skin.
I’d seen other humans do this, and I’d picked up on the fact that it was a comfort to them. I thought about the way Nevan had taken my hand so many times since we’d started courting and how surprised I’d been that the simplest touch could make me feel so safe.
Ms. Carragh’s thin eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t protest or try to pull away.
I watched in fascination as Nevan pushed the little spindle into her skin. “This is going to hurt a bit,” he said.
She grimaced, squeezing my hand tighter.
“You’re strong for someone so . . .” I realized it might be offensive to call her old, even though, in reality, I was far older than her.
“Go on and say it,” she said.
“Well, so old.”
She barked out a laugh. “I could probably take you in a fight.”
“Probably,” I agreed, knowing this conversation was distracting her.
Nevan pulled the thread through her wound, cinching it tight.
“You’d think with all the medical remedies we have, there could be something to dull this pain. A salve or tincture you could put on someone before sticking them with something sharp.”
Nevan pushed the needle through her wound again. “I am working on it. I’ve come close to creating a useful numbing potion a few times, but I can’t quite get it right. And I don’t exactly have the time to experiment.”
Numbing. I stared at the little spindle that was helping heal this woman’s wound, and an idea struck me.
“Nevan,” I said. “If I had a flower that made someone lose all feeling in their body, could that be used for a numbing potion?”
He glanced up at me, gaze sharp. “Possibly. I’d need to examine the plant, how it makes someone lose feeling, and of course, I’d have to test it, but . . . maybe.”
It could help. Another one of my plants could be useful.
“Who knew?” Ms. Carragh said. “Your bog might actually be good for something other than terrifying everyone.” She laughed and lowered her voice.
“Don’t tell anyone, but my favorite pastime is watching from my window and seeing that vine of yours scaring the ever-loving shit out of the townspeople.
I swear, some days it’s the only reason I still wake up. ”
“What about your daughter and son-in-law and granddaughter?” Nevan asked.
“Eh, I could do without them.”
I laughed again. I’d never laughed this much in my life.
“All done.” Nevan said, tying off the thread. “Now I’ll bandage it. Just make sure you keep it away from water for a few days. And no more knives.”
Ms. Carragh raised her chin. “Can’t make any promises.”
I blinked, unable to believe he’d done that so quickly, and I kicked myself for missing most of it.
Nevan stood, medical bag already packed, and Ms. Carragh finally let go of my hand.
We said our goodbyes, and once we were out in the stairwell, I grabbed Nevan’s shirt and pushed him into the wall, kissing him thoroughly. When we finally came up for air, he stared at me with a dazed expression.
“What was that for?”
“Just saying thank you.” I turned and began walking down the stairs.
“Thank you for what?”
“For showing me that.”
“So it wasn’t boring after all?”
“No.” Not in the slightest.
He caught up to me and threaded his fingers with mine, and we walked out the door as I thought about all the ways my bog might actually help someone.