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It frightens me, too. Even after a month on Declan’s island, I was afraid to approach Adrina while she was drawing water from her well. But I was prepared to shapeshift and fly if she proved dangerous, and now there’s no need to fear.
Poke should relax.
I should, too.
If Adrina were going to betray our secret to the people in her village, she wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble to help us conceal our hair in the first place. She won’t accuse us of being witches or fairies. She’ll help us pass as human because that’s what she believes we are—harmless changeling children with Fey blood but no magic.
And, of course, that’s what Declan truly is.
I think…
That’s what I want to discuss, need to discuss. But not until Declan and I are alone.
“Wait here,” Adrina says as we reach the narrow trail leading to her family’s cottage. “I want to prepare my family. Well, prepare my mother, anyway.” She rolls her eyes with an affectionate grin. “She’ll never forgive me if I bring in company before she’s had a chance to tidy up. I will be back for you in a few minutes, yes? Feel free to pick some oranges if you aren’t already full of juice.”
Declan murmurs a warm, “Thank you. No rush at all,” and I nod and smile, but as soon as she turns to go my stomach begins to ache.
Soon, we’ll be alone.
And what will I tell him then? What can I possibly say that might explain all this away? Especially when I have no clue why he was affected by his father’s wards.
Even if I could think up a reasonable lie, I don’t want to deceive Declan. Not anymore. I don’t want him to care for me because I’m some poor human girl he dragged from the ocean. I want him to know me. Really know me.
At least the little bit that’s safe for him to know.
And if he proves to be as close-minded as the rest of humanity…well, I can always shift and fly. If I do it fast enough, I might even be able to avoid watching the warmth in his eyes go cold.
So, when he turns to me, face full of questions, I whisper truthfully, “My mother is a witch.”
His eyes widen and his breath rushes out. “A witch,” he repeats, dragging a hand through his still-damp locks as he glances over his shoulder.
But Adrina has disappeared down the lane and we are truly alone.
He turns back to me, nodding toward my head. “Is that why your hair…?”
“Yes,” I confirm. “I was…born this way.” I nearly say “grown” but school my tongue at the last minute.
Focus, Foxglove. I have to tell him only enough to test the waters, not enough for him to realize what I truly am. No matter how kind he is, I know better than to think I can change Declan’s mind about this Night Witch he’s been raised to fear. Not when his entire life has revolved around avoiding her “curse.”
“I have some magic,” I continue, my hands curling into nervous fists, “but I couldn’t wield it on your island. That’s why I almost drowned. And I suppose why my hair was a different color when I was there. Though nothing like that has ever happened before.”
“Because of Da’s wards, maybe?” he asks, his eyes narrowing.
“Maybe.” A soft squeak sounds from the folds of my dress; I flinch and pull my hand from my pocket before I squeeze poor Wig in half.
“Da’s wards are for witches and the nightmare things they grow in their gardens,” he says softly. “Not for changelings or…anything else.”
I nod slowly, my pulse rushing in my ears, louder than the wind. “I know,” I whisper. My toes press into the soles of my shoes as I ready to take flight if I have to.
“So…are you a witch? Should Adrina and her family be afraid? Should I be afraid?”
His voice is as cold as Mother’s blade and wounds me nearly as much. My throat squeezes tight and the back of my nose begins to sting. I open my eyes wide and sniff against the hurt.
I have never been moved to tears by a human, and I won’t be now.
I thought Declan was my friend, thought he cared for me the way I care for him. But in the end, he’s only a boy, a mortal, not a lost sister or a fellow creature of the garden. If he decides to hate me like the rest of the human race does, then I will spin myself into a cloud and let the sea breeze sweep me away.
I will free myself of my debt to him and vanish, never to lay eyes on him again. Never to see him smile or laugh or chew his lip while he debates his next chess move. Never to hold him the way I did on the hill, with my arms wrapped tight around him and his breath warm against my neck.
