Chapter 6 A Witch’s Tongue
A Witch's Tongue
The summons arrived in the form of a paper butterfly.
I found it fluttering against my bedroom window when I woke, its wings made of pale lavender paper inscribed with shimmering silver ink. When I opened the latch, it drifted inside and landed on my outstretched palm, unfolding itself into a neat square of parchment.
Darling Lizzie,
Meet me in the greenhouse after breakfast. Wear something you don't mind getting dirty. It's time for your first magic lesson.
— S
P.S. The boys won't disturb us. I've made sure of it.
My heart did a strange little flip. Selene had mentioned teaching me magic before—had seemed genuinely enthusiastic about it—but I'd assumed it was one of those things people said without meaning.
Like "we should get coffee sometime" or "I promise I won't knot you and run away.
" (Okay, that last one was specific to Lucien, but the principle stood.)
I dressed carefully: a soft cotton dress that fell to my knees, easy to move in, with nothing underneath except my skin.
The greenhouse was warm, Selene had said, and I didn't want to overheat.
That was the only reason. Definitely not because the thought of being alone with the witch in a secluded, humid, plant-filled sanctuary made my pulse quicken in ways that had nothing to do with magic.
The greenhouse was attached to the manor's south wing, a sprawling glass structure that caught the morning light and scattered it into a thousand shimmering fragments. I pushed through the heavy wooden door and stepped into another world.
The air hit me first—warm and thick and alive, heavy with the scent of earth and flowers and something greener, something that tasted like growth and decay and endless cycles.
Plants crowded every surface: ferns that unfurled in delicate spirals, flowers in colors I'd never seen before, vines that climbed the glass walls and draped themselves across the ceiling in lazy swags.
A small tree with silver bark stood in one corner, its leaves chiming softly in a breeze I couldn't feel.
Mushrooms glowed faintly blue in the shadows beneath a workbench.
And everywhere, everywhere, there was the hum of magic—a low, constant thrum that vibrated in my bones.
Selene stood at the center of it all, surrounded by a circle of potted plants that seemed to lean toward her like sunflowers seeking light.
She wore a simple white dress that made her dark hair and emerald eyes seem even more striking, and her feet were bare against the packed earth floor.
When she saw me, her face lit up with a smile that was equal parts warmth and mischief.
"Lizzie, darling." She crossed the space between us and took my hands, her touch cool and grounding. "I'm so glad you came. I was beginning to think you'd changed your mind."
"About learning magic from a witch in a supernatural mafia manor?" I squeezed her fingers. "Never. I've been looking forward to this."
Her smile widened. "Good. Because I have a feeling you're going to be a natural."
She led me deeper into the greenhouse, past rows of herbs and flowers and things I couldn't name, until we reached a cleared space near the back.
A wooden workbench dominated the area, its surface scattered with candles and crystals and small clay pots.
Behind it, a wall of living vines created a backdrop of shifting green, their tendrils curling and uncurling in a rhythm that matched my heartbeat.
"First," Selene said, turning to face me, "we need to determine what kind of magic you're attuned to.
Every witch has an affinity—an element or force that resonates with their soul.
Fire, water, earth, air. Some are drawn to more obscure energies: shadows, storms, dreams." Her green eyes sparkled. "I suspect you're attuned to chaos."
"That feels like an insult."
"It's a compliment." She guided me to stand in the center of the cleared space, positioning my feet shoulder-width apart and my arms relaxed at my sides.
"Chaos magic is wild and unpredictable and utterly delightful.
It's the magic of possibility, of breaking rules and making new ones. It suits you."
I wasn't sure whether to be flattered or concerned. "What's your affinity?"
"Green magic. Living things." She gestured at the greenhouse around us. "Plants respond to me. They grow faster, stronger, more vibrant when I'm near. I can feel their roots in the earth, their leaves reaching for the sun. It's a gentle magic, most of the time. Nurturing."
"Most of the time?"
Her smile sharpened. "Plants can be vicious when they want to be. Vines that strangle. Thorns that pierce. Flowers that poison. Gentleness is a choice, not a limitation."
I filed that information away for later examination. "So how do we figure out my affinity?"
"We experiment." She picked up a small clay pot from the workbench and placed it in my hands.
Inside, a tiny seedling pushed through the dark soil, its leaves pale green and trembling.
"This is a starflower seedling. Very sensitive to magical energy.
I want you to hold it, close your eyes, and focus on your breathing. Don't try to do anything. Just... be."
I did as she asked. The pot was warm in my hands, the seedling fragile and impossibly alive.
I closed my eyes and breathed, feeling the humid air fill my lungs, hearing the soft rustle of leaves and the distant chime of the silver tree.
My mind wandered—to Lucien's amber eyes, to Azrael's phantom touches, to Darius's silk tie around my wrists.
Heat bloomed in my chest, spreading outward, and I felt the seedling in my hands respond.
I opened my eyes. The starflower had grown—not much, just a centimeter or two, but its leaves were greener, stronger, reaching toward me like I was the sun.
Selene's eyebrows rose. "Interesting. You channeled your desire into growth.
That's not chaos magic—that's something else entirely.
Life magic, perhaps, or—" She broke off, her expression shifting to something I couldn't read.
"Try again. This time, don't think about the men.
Think about something that makes you angry. "
I closed my eyes and searched for anger.
It wasn't hard to find—there was plenty of it buried beneath the surface, old resentments and frustrations I'd never fully processed.
Being dismissed. Being underestimated. Being told I was too much, too loud, too chaotic, too everything.
I let the anger rise, hot and sharp, and—
The seedling in my hands burst into flames.
I yelped and nearly dropped the pot, but Selene's hand closed over mine, steadying me. The flames were small, contained, flickering around the seedling without consuming it. The plant continued to grow, its leaves unfurling even as fire danced along its stems.
"Fire," Selene breathed, her eyes wide with delight. "And life. You're dual-affinity, Lizzie. Fire and growth. Destruction and creation, woven together." She laughed, bright and musical. "Oh, this is wonderful. You're going to be absolutely terrifying."
I stared at the burning seedling, my heart pounding. "I did that?"
"You did." She took the pot from my hands and set it aside, the flames extinguishing as soon as I was no longer touching it. The seedling remained—unharmed, vibrant, impossibly alive. "You have power, darling. Raw and untamed, but real. With training, you could be extraordinary."
I looked at my hands, half-expecting to see flames still dancing on my skin. They looked normal. Ordinary. Human. But something inside me had shifted, some door I hadn't known existed cracking open to let the light through.
"Teach me," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "Show me how to control it."
Selene's smile was radiant. "I thought you'd never ask."
What followed was the strangest, most exhilarating lesson of my life.
Selene guided me through exercises designed to help me feel my magic—not control it, not yet, but simply sense it.
She had me hold different plants and objects, feeling how my energy responded to each one.
She taught me a simple breathing technique that made the fire inside me flicker and dance.
She showed me how to ground myself in the earth, drawing stability from the roots that stretched beneath the greenhouse floor.
And through it all, she touched me.
Not sexually—not at first. Her hands on my shoulders, adjusting my posture.
Her fingers on my wrists, guiding my movements.
Her body close to mine, warm and solid and smelling of jasmine and earth.
Every touch sent sparks through my nerves, and I knew she could feel it—could probably sense the shift in my energy, the way my magic flared every time she came near.
"You're distracted," she observed, her lips curving in a knowing smile. "Your mind is elsewhere."
"My mind is exactly where it wants to be," I admitted. "That's the problem."
She laughed, low and warm. "Is it a problem? Or an opportunity?"
Before I could answer, she stepped behind me, her body pressing against my back.
Her hands settled on my hips, and her breath was warm against my ear.
"Magic responds to emotion, Lizzie. Desire is one of the most powerful forces in existence.
If you're feeling distracted by want, perhaps we should explore that. Use it."
My breath caught. "What did you have in mind?"
"A different kind of lesson." Her fingers traced the curve of my hip, light and teasing. "One that doesn't involve seedlings."