Secret Witch (The Primordial Queen Book 1), page 1
Secret Witch
The Primordial Queen Book 1
Letty Frame
Foxy Knights Publishing
Copyright © 2021
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Letty Frame
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All rights reserved
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The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
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No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
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Cover Design: Damn Good Designs
Editing: Leavens Editing
Contents
1. Elzora
2. Elzora
3. Mael
4. Elzora
5. Zohar
6. Ciar
7. Elzora
8. Eirik
9. Elzora
10. Ryes
11. Elzora
12. Etrix
13. Elzora
14. Ciar
15. Elzora
16. Jasper
17. Elzora
18. Zohar
19. Mael
20. Elzora
21. Eirik
22. Etrix
23. Elzora
24. Elzora
25. Mael
26. Etrix
27. Ryes
28. Elzora
29. Ciar
30. Elzora
31. Elzora
32. Elzora
The End
Glossary
About the Author
Social Media Links
Also by Letty Frame
Secret Witch
Death always has a way of bringing secrets to light. But when the only person who knows the truth is gone, how do you figure out what was real? It’s a shame the dead can’t talk.
Elzora Miller is a human. Wait, that’s not true. It turns out she’s actually a witch. When her grandma dies, a binding spell placed on her as a babe breaks, and the truth comes to light. With no time to adjust, Zoe’s moved to Mitagus, the realm where witches live and enrolled into the Whisperfelt Institution of Magicae.
Zoe’s convinced her new life is a hallucination—a side effect of her anxiety disorder—and it doesn’t help that her magicae is unpredictable and out of her control. Her new life is dangerous, and it’s imperative that Zoe figures out what type of witch she is and that she learns how to harness her magicae before she gets hurt.
Luckily, men from her past are there to help with the transition, and they’re more than willing to protect Zoe whilst she learns to defend herself. But when they’re keeping secrets too, how will she ever know what’s real and who she can trust?
Secret Witch is the 110k first instalment in the Primordial Queen series. This series is a reverse harem, and there’s a guaranteed HEA at the end of the series. This is a slow-burn RH, and members of the harem are added as the book develops. Please be advised that there are triggers in regards to mental health, specifically anxiety disorders.
This book is dedicated to magicae. The world is a scary place, and to have little moments where the magicae is real, helps me get through the day.
Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.
Henry David Thoreau
Contents
1. Elzora
2. Elzora
3. Mael
4. Elzora
5. Zohar
6. Ciar
7. Elzora
8. Eirik
9. Elzora
10. Ryes
11. Elzora
12. Etrix
13. Elzora
14. Ciar
15. Elzora
16. Jasper
17. Elzora
18. Zohar
19. Mael
20. Elzora
21. Eirik
22. Etrix
23. Elzora
24. Elzora
25. Mael
26. Etrix
27. Ryes
28. Elzora
29. Ciar
30. Elzora
31. Elzora
32. Elzora
The End
Glossary
About the Author
Social Media Links
Also by Letty Frame
“What’s with all these well-behaved children?” I groan. Norma, the daycare manager, raises her eyebrows whilst looking at the children in front of us.
Four of our regulars didn’t come in today, so there are only eleven kids here, but you’d think there were none with how quiet they’re being. They’re all between the ages of six and thirteen, and despite normally being a rowdy bunch, today they’re all sitting and doing their schoolwork quietly or colouring in. There aren’t even fights over the coloured pens. It’s weird.
When I woke up this morning, my anxiety levels were through the roof. It’s not uncommon for me to wake up this way, but today it felt like something was causing it. I just can’t figure out what.
The way the kids are behaving is only adding to my panic. I can’t get lost in work, which is giving my brain so much more room to create problems.
“I don’t see an issue, dear,” Norma says, patting my shoulder reassuringly. “They’re being good.”
That’s exactly the problem. They’re being perfect little angels. Why?
“I’ve been trying to sneak them extra dessert, and nobody is taking me up on the offer,” I say, looking at the cake I spent all morning making.
“Just means more for us when they go home.”
I grin at that. She’s got a point. Tuesdays are normally spent teaching the children how to make a dish in the kitchen, whether that be macaroni and cheese or pizza. The purpose of ‘Tuesday Tasting’ is to teach them culinary skills they can use later on in life, because sadly, most of these kids won’t learn this skill, or the others we teach, from their parents or guardians.
The daycare is my favourite place on Earth, even on the days when the kids are acting like little terrors. This past year working here has been so good for me and my mental health.
“Miss Zoe,” Kieron calls. Finally, someone wants me. I wander over to the computer where he’s doing homework and slide into the chair next to him. “I need help with my maths homework.”
I’m elated, but I don’t let my eagerness to help show. Kieron’s a very smart child, but he lacks the drive to persevere when things get tough. If he can’t perfect something quickly enough—and in his mind, that could be as fast as the first try—then he’ll bail. So, this is a big moment, and I don’t really want to deter it from happening again by making a big deal of it.
“What’s the problem?” I ask. He shows me the question, and I start outlining a method. He likes to truly understand why something is the way it is, why something is done a certain way, and not just be told the answer. It’s a very good way of operating.
I sit with him whilst we work through his homework, only pausing to chat to the others when they need something. Between opening the fourteenth pen for Bailey and talking to Millie about her friends at school, I’m having a great afternoon.
I volunteer here three times a week, and it’s important to me because I get to make a difference. Even if that difference is something as small as teaching someone how to tie their shoelaces, I know it’ll benefit them in the future.
The biggest thing, though, is the benefit this has had to me. It’s made a big difference in helping me socialise and get back on my feet. I’ve been accepted to start university in September, something I deferred last year when things went into a bit of a downward spiral. Despite being terrified about it, I have faith that it’s going to go well.
“Zoe,” Norma calls, her tone nervous. I glance over, and I know something is wrong by the way her hands are trembling. I know her husband has been sick lately… I hope he’s okay. Please let her husband be okay.
“Give me a moment, K. I’m just going to help Norma with something.”
Kieron nods, barely looking up as I walk across the room to Norma. Her eyes are filled with tears, and it causes my heart to sink. Anxiety begins to build in my chest, and I can only hope it’s not going to get worse.
I can’t have a panic attack right now. I refuse. Take that, brain.
“What’s wrong?” I sign, not wanting to worry the kids. Sign language is another skill we started teaching because the children asked for it. Cara, one of our regulars, is deaf, and they wanted to be able to communicate with her. It was super adorable the way they asked, and they’re making amazing progress. It was quite fun to take the courses myself, and it’s been something we’re learning as we go together.
“Come into my office,” she whispers, her voice as shaky as her hands.
I follow behind her, my heart pounding, and I’m surprised that Mr Downey, a lawyer and one of my grandma’s closet friends, is here. I think I might have misread the situation earlier…
I feel sick. I’m going to be sick.
“Mr Downey,” I greet, not offering him a hand to shake since mine are extremely sweaty right now. A lawyer wouldn’t come unless it was for a bad reason—no matter how close he is to my grandma. This isn’t good news. “What are you doing here?”
“Elzora, I’m so sorry,” he says, holding my g
“Why are you sorry?” I look between the two of them, clutching my sweaty hands together to hide the tremors. “What’s going on?”
“Zoe, your grandma, she’s—” Norma starts.
“No, I should tell her,” Mr Downey says, motioning for me to sit. I shake my head, not able to get my body to cooperate even if I did want to sit down, and he sighs. “Zoe, Margaret has passed away. I’m so sorry.”
“My grandma’s dead?” I whisper. Both nod, tears dripping down Norma’s cheeks, as reality hits.
I really misread the situation. Norma’s husband is fine, thankfully, but my grandma is dead. She’s gone…
She’s left me too. I’m alone.
I take a few deep breaths before nodding. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Mr Downey repeats, confused. I think he was expecting a breakdown, potentially a panic attack…anything other than this.
The panic is gone. I did feel sick, but now I just feel hollow. I don’t have the emotions within me to feel anything.
“Okay,” I echo. What else am I meant to say? She’s gone. She’s left me too, even after promising she wouldn’t. I’m all alone.
“Why don’t you head home for the day, dear?” Norma suggests, doing her best to sound calm.
“Kieron needs help with his maths homework,” I say, quickly retying my blonde hair up into a ponytail because the loose strands are annoying me. “Thank you for letting me know, but um, I’ve got things to do now. I’ll speak to you after my shift.”
“Of course,” Mr Downey says. “Take all the time you need, Zoe. I’ll be here.”
“Sure,” I say, heading out the room without a backward glance.
My grandma is dead. There’s not enough time in the world to recover from that.
It’s been ten days—barely over a week but it feels like so much longer—since my grandma passed, and today is the day I’ve been dreading most. It’s time to lay her to rest.
I’m parked outside the church, watching people I barely know head inside. Mr Downey has been a big help with all of the planning, doing his best to keep everything off my plate that he could, but it’s not helped the way he thought it has. If he knew me like he thinks he knows me, he’d know that I didn’t want that. Sorting out invites, planning the wake, choosing flowers… I didn’t get to do any of that. Instead, I’ve sat numb and cold, unable to do anything to keep my mind busy. He’s stolen the last few things I could have done for my grandma and took them on for himself.
A knocking echoes through the car, and I take a deep breath. Time to put on a fake smile, pretend I have my life together, and say goodbye to the woman who raised me. She deserves that much.
What she really deserves is more time.
“Hey,” I greet, climbing out of the taxi and pulling down my dress. “How are you feeling?”
“Zoe, you don’t need to put on a fake smile,” Mr Downey chastises.
“I’m not,” I say gently. I don’t have it in me to let this man comfort me like he so desperately wants. He’s my grandma’s lawyer, that’s it. He’s not my granddad, and he’s not someone I regard as a friend. I need him to stop acting like he’s more than what he is. It’s only making things harder for me.
“Mhm,” he says, and the disbelieving tone annoys me.
“My grandma needs this. She needs to be laid to rest. I’m not pretending.”
He nods, not arguing, and leads me into the church. Thankfully he doesn’t pause on the journey, and we head to the front where the minister is waiting. I didn’t look at any of the people here because I’m not going to subject myself to the apologies and well wishes.
I can’t do it.
“Hello, Zoe,” the minister greets, giving me a singular respectable nod. “I’m really sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” This is what I wanted to avoid.
“She’s up there,” he says, motioning to the closed casket at the front, “if you want to say anything before the ceremony.”
I smile and nod, walking forward, tears already dripping down my cheeks. Mr Downey understood when I said I didn’t want to see her this way, and out of everything he’s done, this is the one thing I’m grateful for. He respected my wishes.
My grandma would hate it if people saw her like this. I wipe away the tears, knowing it’s the one thing my grandma hated from me.
Crying doesn’t fix anything, Ellie. Pull up your pants and face it like a woman.
I smile as I remember that quote, my hand falling on top of the coffin. It’s meant to be pull up your socks, but she thought that women wearing pants was the bigger power move.
A strange feeling travels through my body, filling me up with confidence…with energy. Recognition hits me deeply as a faint golden glow surrounds my hands. I’m surprised…but I know this is fate’s way of telling me that this person in here is my grandma, and she really is gone.
“I’ll never leave you,” a woman says, drawing my attention. I look up, and the tears dry up as I regard her.
Her eyes are unfocused, but I can tell they’re trained on me. She’s dressed very…strangely for a funeral. I mean, I’m not judging, and I know my grandma would appreciate that this lady came no matter what she’s wearing, but still. She has on a long coat reaching her shins that’s unzipped to show off a dress that looks like it belongs in the 1940s. It’s pretty, but the pale yellow colour isn’t really funeral appropriate. She’s even got on a large yellow hat with a feather sticking out of it.
“You look nice,” I mention. She does, even though it would be more appropriate if this was for Ladies’ Day. Her shoulder-length brown hair is curled, styled professionally—or that’s how it seems—and she’s gorgeous. I don’t know her, though, and I have no idea why she’s here.
“I won’t leave you, Ellie,” she says before disappearing in a golden light. The same shade of gold that surrounded my hands a second ago.
What on earth? I whirl around, my eyes darting through the people here. I barely settle on faces long enough to discern who they are, but I don’t see anyone in sunny yellow clothing.
Where has she gone? People don’t just disappear into thin air.
“What’s wrong?” Mr Downey asks, walking over to me. “Zoe?” His hand falls to my lower back as he whispers, “Are you having a panic attack? Do we need to go?”
“I… Did you see that woman?”
“Is the casket open?” he snarls, glancing over. His face drops when it’s not, and he grips my arm. “Who? Who was here, Zoe? Who did you see?”
“Um, nobody,” I say after another scan shows she’s not here. “I must have imagined it. I’m sorry for worrying you.”
“Sure,” he says, but by the tense grip on my arm, I don’t think he believes me. His face scans mine, checking I’m not lying, and eventually, he nods. “Go sit down. We’ll be starting in a minute.”
“Sure,” I whisper.
