I turn around, only to find I've stumbled upon Nyx's body, his tall and dark figure looming over me. I didn't expect his body to feel so hard and muscular, as he looked quite lean and elegant. My heart skips a beat, and I take an instinctive step back, my cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and something else I can't quite describe.

"Are you alright?" Nyx asks, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine.

"I...uh...yeah, I'm fine," I stammer, trying to regain my composure. "Just a little... surprised."

His lips curl into a mischievous smile. Still, I can't shake the intense feeling of fear that the old woman's words instilled in me. What did she mean before? I grab Nyx by the arm and take him a few steps away from the old lady so she won't be able to hear us. I discreetly pull on his sleeve and lean in close, my lips hovering near his ear as I whisper: "Who's this lady?" I ask, leaning in even closer to make sure nobody overhears us. "She said something really weird to me..."

Nyx's gaze flickers towards the old lady, his yellow eyes filled with a hint of concern. "Her name is Cornelia," he replies, his voice barely audible over the clamour of the crowd. "She's... not quite right in the head."

I watch as Cornelia continues to mutter to herself, her wrinkled hands trembling as she clutches onto a beautiful shawl. "Does she... have dementia or something?" I inquire, my voice laced with both curiosity and worry.

Nyx nods, a solemn expression crossing his features. "Cornelia's memory comes and goes. She often forgets where she lives or even who she is at times. It's best not to pay too much attention to her ramblings."

Relief washes over me as I realise that Cornelia's cryptic words might just be a figment of her confused mind. Yet, a part of me remains unsettled by the intensity behind her warning. The way she spoke, it felt almost prophetic.

Feeling embarrassed by my actions, I walk back to the elderly woman and join her in clapping for the singer, who is still taking a bow in front of the cheering audience.

Soon enough, the witches begin requesting specific tunes. This time, the singer opts for something more cheerful, more contemporary. Just as the new song starts, Aunt Leonora finally appears next to us.

She's wearing a dull pink dress, covered in green embroidery in the form of vines. She complements it with an elegant, white cape that trails on the ground. Her soft blond waves fall to her shoulders, and the crown made of cherry branches I had seen her wear in the throne room rests upon her head – fully bloomed and emitting a sweet scent.

"Did you miss us?" Nyx asks, smirking as she approaches, emanating radiance and royalty.

"Of course," she says. "I'm so sorry I couldn't see you sooner," Leonora apologises, her eyes filled with warmth.

"It's okay, you were busy," I reply, attempting to reassure her. Her smile turns ironic, as if to say, "you can't even imagine how busy" and I can't help but chuckle. She places a hand on my shoulder and gently nudges me toward one of the tables.

"After dinner, I'll introduce you to the other queens," she says, her voice soft but clear. "But first, I want you to meet someone."

As we reach a table at the back of the room, my gaze falls upon two young women about my age. One is chubby, with auburn hair and glasses. Her attire – an aubergine-coloured dress, black bolero jacket, and witches' hat – seems like an afterthought. She's sipping an orange concoction, a robin perched on her shoulder. The other girl is tall, slender, ash-blond hair impeccably braided and pinned up. She wears a peach-coloured gown, sitting very straight in her chair while absentmindedly stroking a dozing ferret in her lap. Her gaze sweeps over me before looking away disinterestedly. What's her problem? So disrespectful...

"Eileen, this is Astrid Maple," Leonora introduces, pointing to the witch in the aubergine outfit, "and Nicole Cedar," she adds, indicating the witch in the peach dress. “Both have offered to serve as your guides in Witchwood.”

"Nice to meet you! Sit here, please," Astrid says, standing and offering me a chair. Her smile is frank, yet she seems unaware of the traces of whipped cream on her nose. I sit down, feeling awkward, my heart pounding in my chest.

"I’m leaving you in good company," Leonora reassures me. “I'll come after dinner.”

As my Aunt departs, Nyx gives me a sly wink and wishes me luck before sauntering back to Leonora. I can't help but feel watched. Astrid looks at me openly, her expression friendly, while Nicole shoots me sideways glances as she eats gummy bears from a small bag. Her attitude reminds me of the girls who picked on me at school when I was a child, so I decide to ignore her in the same way she's blanking me.

My focus shifts to the strange but lively atmosphere of the gathering and the odd orange drink in front of me.

"Ooh, what's this?" I ask, pointing to the glass of orange liquid with whipped cream that smells of cinnamon.

"Pumpkin punch," Astrid replies. "It's very tasty."

I cautiously take a sip and notice it has a flavor of cinnamon, coconut, and pumpkin. It's not terrible, but I definitely prefer wine. Perhaps if I drink it slowly, I can avoid starting a conversation. My cheeks begin to flush as my nerves take over. I mentally urge myself to speak up. Yes, I should say something. I'm going to say something...

"Yummy," I exclaim. How articulate of me, I think sarcastically.

Suddenly, Nicole speaks up. "Just to be clear, I didn't volunteer. My mother forced me into it." Astrid looks at Nicole with wide eyes before narrowing them reprovingly.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

"Don't listen to her, Eileen," Astrid interrupts. "It'll be an honour to serve as your guide. Excuse Nicole – she's in a bad mood because she had a fight with her mum."

"Astrid!" Nicole yells angrily. "Don't tell her that!"

"Why not? You fight with your mum all the time. She was going to find out sooner or later..."

"Who's your mother?" I ask, curiosity piqued.

"That's none of your business," Nicole answers nastily, crossing her arms.

"Her mother is Romina Cedar, the leader of the Fairy Brigade," Astrid offers helpfully. I can see a slight resemblance between them, now that I look closer.

The atmosphere grows tense. I'm unsure of where I stand with these witches. But if Leonora introduced me to them, they must be influential.

"I can show you around any time," Astrid continues, "But Nicole is refusing to go to the forest with you because she's afraid of fairies," she suddenly blurts out, causing Nicole's face to turn red.

"Astrid, stop!" she commands, glaring at her friend. "Why would you tell her that?"

"Sorry, but... It's not a big deal, you know? They are quite creepy," Astrid admits, and I can't help but feel curious about these creatures. Nicole is not amused at all.

"As you may have noticed, Astrid's problem is that she talks too much," Nicole mutters bitterly, attempting to regain some control over the situation.

"I have to confess, it's a trait that runs in my family - or maybe it's just part of being in the profession if you know what I mean?" Astrid goes on, unfazed by Nicole's comment. "Well, I don't think you know what I mean, because you just arrived, but I say so because my family runs the Daily Leaf."

"What's the Daily Leaf?" I ask, intrigued despite myself.

"The Witchwood newspaper. Every day there's a new story waiting for you between the pages. My mum recently made me an editor." Astrid pauses on purpose, clearly expecting some form of praise. Not wanting to disappoint her, I offer my encouragement.

"Congratulations," I say, feigning interest as best I can. Inside, I'm still reeling from the revelation that Nicole fears these mysterious fairies. What could be so terrifying about them? And why does Nicole seem so reluctant to even talk to me?

“Thank you so much," Astrid responds with gratitude. "My ultimate goal is to become an investigative journalist. You know, one of those ‘truth is stranger than fiction’ type of stories. Honestly, most of the news we publish is quite mundane – like last week when my mother asked me to cover the birthday celebration of a hedgehog owned by the baker who... but I'm not boring you, am I?" She barely pauses for breath, her words tumbling out like a waterfall.

“Not at all!” I lie, shaking my head effusively.

Astrid stretches out her hand, aiming for my shoulder and locking her gaze onto mine.

"I have something to confess," she says.

"Okay..." I mutter. What the hell is going on with her?

She suddenly shifts in her seat, fidgeting with her bag. With a deep breath, she turns back, taking out a notebook and pencil. "I'll be straight," she declares with a shaky voice. "I'm here to interview you."

"What?!" I exclaim. "No way."

Astrid's shoulders slump and her brows furrow in disappointment. She was clearly hoping for a different answer. "But... Why not?" she asks again, her eyes searching mine for any sign of changing my mind. "A witch born and raised outside? It's been decades since we've seen one..."

"I don't really have anything interesting to say..." I mumble, hoping she'll drop the subject. I can't shake the feeling that I'm being put on display. What am I, a circus freak?

Astrid opens her mouth to reply, but thankfully, the waitresses arrive with plates of deliciously aromatic food, and I breathe a sigh of relief. The distraction provides a momentary reprieve from the conversation. As we're served duck confit with plums and apple sauce, pastries stuffed with prawns and courgettes, and aromatic meat pies, my mouth waters at the sight of it all. When the main course arrives – succulent beef tenderloins, pink in the centre, with pieces of caramelised pear on a bed of mashed potatoes with black truffle sauce – I can't help but feel grateful for the interruption.

The wine is a welcome addition, and I take a sip, savouring the flavour as it washes away my earlier nerves. I REALLY needed that drink. Astrid and Nicole continue their conversation, but I do my best to ignore them, finding myself lost in the taste of the food and wine, enjoying the momentary peace it brings.

I lean back in my chair, still savouring the sweetness of the dessert lingering on my tongue when the background music comes to an abrupt halt. The buzz of conversations ceases as Leonora gracefully climbs onto the stage, capturing everyone's attention. She stands there in her beautiful gown and crown, her serene gaze and straight, elegant posture radiating authority.

"This is how I've always imagined queens should look," I think to myself, awestruck by her presence.

Leonora smoothes her hair and, extending her arms in a welcoming gesture, addresses the audience. "First of all, I want to thank you for coming. This is a very special night for me, and it makes me happy to be able to share it with all of you." Her voice is clear, her expression sincere, and even though the room is packed with witches, it feels like she's speaking directly to me. Leonora really knows how to work a crowd.

"Tonight, however, isn't about me. It's not about dancing to the music of the orchestra, or savouring delicacies, or drinking excellent wine. Although that certainly helps," she says with a wink, making the audience laugh. I can't help but chuckle along with them, feeling a bit more at ease.

"No. Tonight is about family. As everyone here knows, my family, unfortunately, hasn't had the happiest history. Not a single day goes by that I don't miss my mother, and I know that for many of you Galatea was also almost a mother, if not a sister, or a friend."

Her words stir something inside of me, a pang of sadness for the family I never knew. The room falls silent for a moment. All around me are solemn faces, some even showing signs of grief. I notice an elderly witch dabbing her eyes with a napkin, trying to hide her tears.

Leonora's voice echoes around the room as she continues, her words heavy with emotion. "As you well know, I have the honour of leading the Spring Court and I'm surrounded by wonderful witches. My subjects are my greatest blessing. However, I lack something that most witches possess. A family."

She pauses, and I can see her fighting to hold back tears. "But today, everything changes. Today, I get my family back. At last, after almost two decades, I have found my niece." Her smile is bittersweet, and she places a hand on her chest, as if to keep her heart from breaking free.

The reaction in the room isn't what I expect - or what Leonora probably hoped for. Murmurs spread like wildfire and they shoot disbelieving glances at one another. A knot forms in my stomach. Shit. She's talking about me. I pray that she won't point in my direction.

"My dear niece's name is Eileen," Leonora says, and I can't help but cringe. Astrid and Nicole stare at me, their expressions a mix of surprise and horror. They exchange whispers, and I can't help but wonder what they're saying. Why are they reacting like that? Why didn't Leonora tell me she was going to talk about me?

My hands and legs tremble uncontrollably, nausea threatening to overtake me. The witches continue murmuring amongst themselves. All I want is to disappear, to escape this room full of judgmental stares and whispered gossip.

"Please," I mutter under my breath, shutting my eyes tightly, "let this be over."