On instinct, Bethan spat back into the mug with a swear before she handed it back to him.

‘Mm, delightful.’

He smirked again, and Bethan fought the urge to grab the coffee back and pour it on him to wipe it off his face.

‘We should also look at the catalogue of Dana’s research that Tharin gave us to make sure nothing is missing,’ Kellan said. ‘For instance, Lenovik’s papers.’

Bethan shook her head. ‘I checked that thing seven times, and I was the one who donated it in the first place. Trust me, nothing is missing.’

‘Just like I should have trusted you about the Antiphonus being a useless source.’

Bethan cringed and surrendered. It wasn’t often he was right, so she had let him have the win.

‘Now, if we are going to see Saskia. I want to look my best,’ he drawled. ‘And I can’t look my best on an empty stomach.’

Bethan rolled her eyes.

‘I have no food,’ he announced. ‘You have no food. Invite the other little witches, and let’s go.’

***

Agatha and Circe joined them; Elnora was off with her parents for work. Circe readily accepted the invitation, while Agatha stared at them with doe eyes and a bitten lip. Bethan could tell she was tense just by how the plants moved and danced around her. Almost as if they were shielding her from the fae before her.

Not only that, but she knew Kellan also sensed the uneasiness. He sat stiffened next to her with a straight back, almost like he had put on a mask of a charming prince. Probably something he learned in court.

They opted for the new café on Crow Street; it was no wonder Agatha spoke so highly of it. Succulents and other greenery adorned the space. Vines climbed up nearly every wall, settling into the corners. It looked like what Bethan assumed was inside Agatha’s mind.

They sipped their drinks. Bethan dared to try some of Kellan’s black coffee but wanted to spit it out as soon as the horrid liquid touched her tongue. Kellan shook his head, choking out a laugh.

‘You know you don’t like it, yet you have to try it every time someone else orders it,’ Circe said.

Bethan scrunched her face, causing Circe to roll her amber eyes.

Agatha seemed to loosen up when the tension broke.

‘You know, in court, they say Green Witches descend from the fae,’ Kell told Agatha.

Kell.

She liked that nickname, the way it rolled off her tongue with ease.

Agatha’s face beamed at those words, and she inched closer. It was rare for Agatha to hear about her powers in such a good light. After all, her being a Green Witch was the very reason her father had abandoned her. Grey Witches would see themselves as superior compared to the Green Witches; Bethan put it to having an ability to manipulate nature is a fae trait, not a witch one. She wondered if Blood Witches were treated lesser as well.