It was as if an invisible hand had flicked the oil lamp’s flame.
The tiny tongue of fire almost went out, and for an instant the silent room dimmed.
Leif set down the jar of green fruit jam in her hand and looked at Natiaveda, whose face had become much rounder after shrinking into a Littlefolk-sized body. She raised a hand and poked the witch’s flushed cheek.
Her finger pressed a little hollow into that round cheek. It felt springy and soft.
“Miss Knight…”
Natiaveda blinked awake in a daze.
Leif drew her hand back from the witch’s face.
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