Page 18 of This Witch Is Not Wicked

A cry had rung out from across the path. I’d turned to see my mother appear in a swirl of green and gold magic, and their eyes widened as they ran to me, their vine-like hair flowing behind them.

I was so proud. Until they knelt to touch the plant and let out a different cry. One of pain. The vines that hung from Mother’s head had hissed at me, the moss and leaves covering their body rustling in displeasure. Mother snatched their finger away, blood seeping from a cut on their flawless golden skin. It had quickly healed itself, but it hadn’t healed the fracture that one event had caused between us.

An abomination.

That was what Mother called the marillian zaelus.

I wasn’t sure how someone could look at this and think it was anything but a miracle.

I’d been so ashamed at the time, thinking something was wrong with me. But I wished I could go back and tell ten-year-old me that I wasn’t the problem.

I chewed the inside of my cheek. If I went to the Otherworld, would anything truly be different? Here I could create without worrying what people thought. Maybe I no longer had my endless amount of magic, but I had seeds. All my plants carried seeds, so their species wouldn’t die out. If everyone shamed me like they had before, then what would it matter if I got all my magic back in the Otherworld?

Then again, I was surely going to be exiled from this place after that run-in with Nevan.

Vine closed my hand around the little flower, and I squeezed my eyes shut, reveling in the feel of the soft petals against my skin.

“Hi!” a voice chirped, and I jumped, eyes shooting open to see a little girl with short black braids standing in front of me, staring.

“Fiona.” I put a hand to my heart. “How many times have I told you that you can’t just enter someone’s house without knocking?”

She tugged on one of her braids. “But if I knocked, you wouldn’t answer.”

“Exactly.”

“I wanted to say hi!” She skipped forward and plopped onto my bed. “Also I have another theory about why your skin is green.”

She’d asked when we first met two years ago, and I’d told her it was none of her business. Since then, she’d come up with about a hundred different theories.

I raised a brow.

“You ate too much broccoli as a child.”

“Sure.”

She stuck out her bottom lip. “That’s what you say every time.”

“If you don’t leave, I’ll turn you into a cactus.”

She giggled like she always did when I threatened her, her chestnut brown cheeks aglow with pink. “You’re so funny. You can’t do that.”

I could, actually. But it would be a terrible waste of my magic. Turning a human into a plant drained my magic much, much faster than growing something new. I glanced down at my amulet once again, hating how much I seemed to be doing that these days. Constantly checking to see if the liquid had drained any more.

“Why are you here?” I stuffed the black dress back into the sack, and this time Vine didn’t try to stop me. “I’m busy.”

Fiona hopped off the bed and trailed after me. “You’re always busy.”

Yet she never seemed to get the hint. Fiona was the only person in Fairwitch who didn’t hate me. It was a pity she likely wasn’t old enough to cast a vote in my favor.

“I just wanted to make sure you’d be here,” she said.

“Why?” I shot her a suspicious look.

She twined her hands behind her back, refusing to look at me. “Just because.”

Something was going on, but I couldn’t figure out what. “Fiona.” I approached the little girl, who backed up toward the wooden railing that overlooked the first level. She was looking anywhere except at me. “What did you mean by that? Why would I need to be here?”

“No reason.” She gave a very unconvincing shrug.