I cracked a grin. “I can’t help myself when you’re flitting around like royalty. You stood there for less than thirty seconds before you started huffing and puffing.”
“Maybe I’ve got more important places to be.”
My smile faltered, but I fought to keep it on my face so she wouldn’t notice. “Right. Of course. Well, thank you for this. We ran out a few days ago and things have been rowdy with the potluck coming up. And then Hallow’s Eve. Ginger was hoping you’d have her order ready today. She’s out, by the way. I’m sureyou noticed.” I laughed nervously. I was babbling—I knew it, but I couldn’t stop myself.
“Right…” She held the pouch of coins up with a tight smile before she tucked them in her satchel. “I’ll be going, then.”
“Of course, of course. Thank you.”
“You said that already.”
I gulped, my smile now absolutely painful. It surely looked more like a grimace. “Right.”
She gave me a finger-wagging wave before she drifted toward the door, leaving the light scent of magic and toasted apples in her wake. My smile (grimace) finally dropped from my face, and I let out a heavy sigh.
Maybe next time.
I wiped my sweaty hands off on a dish towel, tossed it over my shoulder, and set to pouring ales for my remaining patrons.
I cast a quick glance around the room to see if anyone had witnessed that absolute wreck of an interaction. I made brief eye contact with the mothman in the corner, who gave me a commiserating grimace before returning to his fruit salad. My shoulders rounded.
I had been looking forward to seeing Kizzi again. Her delivery schedule varied, but she always came by at least once a week, and I made it a point to interact with her every time. It was like a game, almost, trying to make the witch smile. She had such a lovely smile. I knew how much responsibility she carried on her shoulders, running the apothecary that took care of the entire town.
If I could lighten her mood for a moment, it gave me a strange sort of satisfaction.
Too bad I had absolutely blown it. Again. The witch hardly even noticed that I existed. Or maybe she could tell I was absolutely infatuated with her, and she simply didn’t feel the same way. I sighed heavily.
Maybe I’ll get it right next time.
CHAPTER 3
Kizzi
Ifinished my day’s deliveries with plenty of time to spare—I was even able to crack open the new shifter romance novel Fiella loaned me before I had to meet her for dinner.
I had covered the nasty sludge-filled cauldron in my shop with a sheet on my way in. Fiella might’ve had a point… the stuff was a little unsettling.
If it was out of sight, it was out of mind. More or less. At least the weird, popping bubble splatter would be contained. How it managed to boil without a heat source was a mystery that I chose to ignore for the time being.
I curled up in my bed, tugged my fluffiest fur blanket over my head and lit my enchanted lamp with the smallest wisp of magic from my fingertip. The warm glow allowed me to see the pages in the darkness of my cozy cocoon. I couldn’t even feel the magic leaving me, the amount was so miniscule. These were some of my favorite magics—the delicate, subtle ones.
I latched at every opportunity for leisure time I could grasp. Being idle was one of my favorite pastimes, that’s why I rushed through my tasks so quickly. As soon as I finished my work, I could justrelax. I could rot away in bed with a good novel for a few hours and nobody would bother me.
It was glorious.
Though most of the folk in Moonvale lived in cottages on the edges of town or dispersed throughout the Greenwood Forest, I chose to live in the back room of my apothecary shop. It was simply more convenient. I wasn’t someone who craved separating my work from my home. I was often finishing up potion brews at odd hours, so it was easier to keep my entire life in one building.
And I was rather fond of this building. With its uniquely curved walls, its heavily laden shelves, and the comforting smell of cinnamon that permanently stained the air, I never wanted to leave.
My personal room was my favorite part. My bed, huge and fluffy and filled with as many pillows and blankets as it could carry, took up a large portion of the space. I had it shoved in the far corner under a net full of tiny, enchanted twinkling lights, so it almost looked like the firefly-filled sky.
The front wall of my room—by the door—held a cabinet with my most valuable finds. The rarest ingredients I had sourced from the farthest reaches of the realm. The lock was spelled, of course, so if a thief tried to lay their hands on it, they would be trapped in a thick layer of slug slime, with their feet frozen to the floor.
A witch liked to protect her valuables.
If preferring the dramatic is a crime, lock me up in the mayor’s dungeon.
The cabinet held other marvelous finds, like shining pink diamond dust from Rockward’s mountains, harvested by the near-mythical mining gnomes. And the dried wings from an extinct species of butterfly. And many other fabulous (and fucked up) things.
