“Yes,” Selene said grimly. “I tried a clearing draught. Thought it would purge the hiccups. It…amplified them. For two whole hours, Lydia Dross was a one-woman brass band.”
Maude set down her drink. “You made her louder?”
Selene dropped her forehead to the table, muffling her laughter. “It echoed in the rafters, Maude. The rafters. I thought the quadrant was going to collapse.”
Oli slapped both hands over his ears like he could hear it. “The scandal! The indignity! Poor Lydia?—”
“Poor Lydia?” Maude said. “I’m surprised the magistrates haven’t commissioned a statue of Selene. Finally gave the town something useful to laugh about.”
Selene peeked up, grinning. “Thank you. Some recognition at last.”
Oli looked between them in open horror. “This is corruption. Medical corruption! I thought healers swore an oath or something.”
Selene lifted a brow. “We do. First, do no harm. Second, if Lydia Dross walks in, all bets are off.”
Maude cackled, and Oli pressed a hand to his chest. “I weep for your moral compasses.”
Selene was still giggling into her sleeve when Oli sat back in his chair, swirling the dregs of his cider like he was about to deliver a speech no one wanted.
“Inevitably,” Maude muttered, stabbing her spoon into her stew, “here it comes.”
“So,” Oli said, lips curling slyly, “how’s our sunshine baker?”
“Alive. Presumably.”
Selene nudged her shoulder. “That’s all?”
“That’sall,” Maude confirmed, taking a bite. It was spicy enough to make her eyes water, which worked well for disguising the spike of heat in her cheeks.
Selene leaned in until Maude could practically feel her breath. “You hesitated.”
Maude slowly lowered her spoon, her gaze flat as stone. “I was deciding whether to say he’s an idiot or an imbecile. But thank you for your forensic analysis.”
Oli slapped the table. “Coward! You didn’t say either.”
“I said he’s alive. Isn’t that enough? For some people, that’s already too much.”
“Pathetic,” Oli declared with mock solemnity. “We raised you better than this.”
Selene grinned. “So if he’s not an idiot, what is he?”
Maude swirled her spoon, watching potatoes sink. “He’s…not brilliant.”
The table went silent for a beat. Then Oli leaned forward, eyes wide. “Not brilliant? That’s the best insult you could conjure? Saints help us all.”
“I’m tired,” Maude whined. “My creativity clocked out hours ago.”
Oli patted her shoulder. “Tragic. The mighty witch of Blightbend felled by vocabulary.”
Selene snorted, and Maude gave her a look.
“Wesley and I are not friends. We worked together. That’s over.”
“You know you can have more than one best friend,” Oli said, lifting his mug.
Selene smacked his arm. “What about me?”
“Fine. More than two best friends,” he corrected without missing a beat.
