A Little Green Magic (The Little Coven #1) - Isabel Wroth Page 0,63

head back, so she had to look at him.

“Don't apologize. Not to me. The part of you that's Fae is undeniably lovely, and that was the second-best experience of my life.”

A pretty flush painted her cheeks, her lashes fluttering with the compliment. “What was the first best experience?”

“Walking up to your front porch knowing you weren't going to die because I loved you.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

April 25th

Ivy made the entire back yard explode with wildflowers today, and I've never seen anything more beautiful. I swear, the sound of her giggles makes them grow so tall. I wish Nan was here to see her.

She's a natural, more powerful at three years old than I ever remember being. I don't want to, but if her powers keep growing the way they are, I might have to send her to Haggara. Without a coven, I can't teach her everything she'll need to know.

Ivy touched her fingertip to the picture stuck to the paper, looking at her own little face grinning up at the camera while she stood among a tiny back yard crammed full of flowers.

There were spells and recipes written on the pages, stories of how Ilsa struggled as a young, single mother. Her triumphs, the friendships she'd made within the neighborhood. Like Nonna Gianna, who became something like a second grandmother to Ilsa.

Ilsa journaled Ivy's magical achievements and more than once battled with thoughts of having to send Ivy to Haggara to learn what Ilsa wasn't capable of teaching her, wrestling with the idea of letting Ivy out of her sight.

Twice, Ilsa attempted to join a coven for Ivy's sake, but both times, the coven elders made it clear they were happy to take Ivy, but Ilsa was unwelcome. After the second time, Ilsa didn't try again. She wrote that at least if Ivy went to Haggara, Ilsa would be allowed to visit far more frequently and with much less hostility.

Ivy shook her head sadly as she turned the page, continuing to read her mother's thoughts throughout Ivy's childhood. It wasn't until Ivy's seventh year that Ilsa's writings took an alarming turn.

September 15th

I saw him today. For weeks I thought I felt someone watching me. I thought I was just being paranoid, but he was right there, standing across the street, bold as brass, beneath the old apple tree in the park.

Ivy didn't see him, thank the Goddess, but he saw her. He was so focused on Ivy, he barely even looked my way. He shouldn't be here, and I'm terrified why he is.

September 16th

I couldn't sleep last night. I sat in Ivy's room all night, my hand on her chest just to feel her breathing. I needed to make sure he didn't come during the night to steal her away and leave me with a changeling.

I've come up with so many reasons why he might want Ivy, each one more horrifying than the last. I have to do something. I have to keep her safe.

September 17th

I went to the nearest foundry and bought about a hundred pounds of iron filings. I let Ivy play with them, waiting to see if it hurt her to touch the metal. I felt like the cruelest of mothers, waiting to see if my baby would be burned, but to my surprise, nothing happened.

I'm glad because it means she has an advantage over the others. I spread the filings in the dirt around the house, layered the grounds with every protection spell I can think of, but I don't know that it will keep him out if he truly wants in.

Ivy wants to go outside and play, but I can't. I can't let her out of my sight. She's mine, my baby, my everything. He already took one of my babies. I'll die before I let him take her too.

Ivy's breath hitched as she read the last sentence of that entry, feeling her mother's ferocity and her love like a brand. Ivy struggled to breathe around the burning lump in her throat, jumping when Uriah said her name.

She blinked away the water in her eyes, managing to smile up at him when he came over to check on her. He crouched down in front of her, his brow puckered in concern as he reached up to brush the little trickles from her cheeks.

“I'm fine. Just getting a little emotional. She's um, she's writing about seeing the Green Man again, the week before she took me to Haggara. She says she felt like she was being watched, and