One hand was now free of its wrap, and I moved on to the other, using the same feather light touch.
“Pumpkin, mostly.”
“Pumpkin? I’ve never had that in a drink before, no wonder I didn’t recognize it. Pumpkin doesn’t grow around here, how in the realms did you get it?”
“It wasn’t easy. But I found a trader who would source some for me. For a hefty price, of course.”
“Can they get you any more?”
He tilted his head. “Why? Do you need a pumpkin for something?”
I shrugged. “Maybe. I’ve heard it can be used to enhance potion recipes. But really, I was hoping you would get yourself some more.”
I flicked my gaze up to his face to find him already watching me. It was strange seeing him at this level—I was so used to craning my neck and looking up at him. I returned my attention to his hands, pulling off the final bandage and discarding it in a waste basket.
He let out a quiet sigh of relief and lightly curled his fingers before straightening them out again. “I had the same idea. I think I might add spiced pumpkin to the normal cider rotation, if I can. If only we could grow pumpkins in Moonvale.”
I hummed in contemplation. “Has anyone ever tried?”
“You know what, I’m not sure. I had assumed so, but I’ve never witnessed it. We could talk Lunette about it, see if she has any ideas.”
I nodded. Surely, there had to be a way. Maybe the coven could do something about that.
I wandered over to one of my shelves, flipping through containers until I found what I was looking for. “Don’t touch anything, let your hands breathe for a few moments.”
“Whatever you say, princess.”
That damned nickname again. I flipped him off over my shoulder. He huffed out a quiet laugh.
I collected the ingredients I needed: two mushroom stalks, a dried dragonfly wing, a spoonful of rainwater, three hairs from a baby squirrel, and a dash of cinnamon. I brought them over to my mortar and pestle and got to work, grinding the ingredients into a smooth pulp while humming an enchantment.
Mentally, I sang a song.Oh, mother of the Old Gods, grant me the healing touch. Grace me with your magic, your strength, so that I may sooth what has been burned.
I didn’t have to sing or chant to get my magic flowing, but it always helped. I used less energy that way. The words came almost instinctively—I didn’t recall ever learning them or memorizing them, but they always came to mind in times of need.
The salve came together quickly, forming a thick paste. I gave it a quick sniff to make sure it smelled right.
Luckily, it did.
Screw you, sprites, wherever you are.A quick glance around the shop showed that they still hadn’t returned.
When I turned to Tandor, I found him staring intently at the corner, his eyes burning a hole into the side of the giant cauldron. It was still covered, but the sheet looked different. I would have to examine it later.
“Uh, Kizzi.” He tilted his head. “What are you making over there?”
“Nothing. Why do you ask?”
“Nothing? Really? I don’t know, there’s something about it…”
I shook my head. “It’s nothing. I need to clean it out, is all. I don’t want to talk about it.”
He stared at the cauldron for a few moments more before finally tearing his gaze away. “If you say so. Let me know if you need help—that thing must be heavy.”
“You want to help with another cauldron?”
He glanced down at his hands. “You’re right, maybe that’s not a great idea.”
I smiled. “Maybe not. Thanks for offering, though.” I set the healing salve down and snatched a clean cloth out of a bucket, wetting it with cold water. I approached timidly, stepping into his personal space. “Ready?”
