“It was a fierce competition,” she said.
“It sure was,” I agreed, anxious for the conversation to end. I wasn’t in the mood for small talk—the words rattled around painfully in my sore head.
“Think you’ll compete again next year to hold the title?”
“Hmm,” I murmured noncommittally. “We’ll see.”
I couldn’t think that far ahead, I was simply hoping to survive the day so I could return home and lay down.
When I meandered back to the kitchen for a short reprieve, a steaming mug was sitting on the counter atop a small scrap of paper with my name on it in an elegant scrawl. I poked my head out of the kitchen to find Tandor in conversation with Daine, the mothman from the grocery store.
I smiled. I supposed he had brought me some of Kizzi’s hangover tea after all and had lied about it to surprise me. Typical Tandor.
The warmth of the mug seeped into my palms like a comforting hug as I lifted it to my face. I sniffed the liquid. It smelled sweet and herbal, like berries and basil, perhaps. With an edge of something sharp. Something magical.
I shrugged. If it worked for Tandor, it would surely work for me. I took a small sip.
Not the best tea I had ever tasted, but certainly acceptable. I had no urge to gag.
I took another drink, larger this time. It warmed my throat and settled comfortably into my roiling stomach. I instantly felt better.
Bless you, Kizzi, wherever you are.
After draining the mug to its dregs, I felt almost back to normal.
“Thanks,” I said to Tandor as we crossed paths later.
“For what?” he asked.
I smiled and shook my head. Tandor and his games. “Never mind.”
CHAPTER 25
Shade
Iwas getting better at traversing town unnoticed. My presence didn’t repel folk as strongly as it used to. Now, if I tried to blend in and go unseen, I was mostly successful.
I could even slip in and out of the pub without drawing my wife’s eye.
The crone was quicker to notice my presence than most.
She pretended like she didn’t see me, but when other folk cleared the area, she glared at me. Shooed me away.
I needed answers.
If anyone could tell me about the vast blankness in my head, surely an old, wise witch could.
But I wasn’t quite sure how to ask.
So, I followed her.
It felt nothing like following my goddess. She was a mystery to solve. The crone was simply a task on my agenda.
“Speak your mind, Dark One,” she called out when she approached her cottage with me on her trail.
I took a deep breath. The truth was bitter on my tongue when I said, “I need your help.”
“I thought I told you to leave,” she accused. “Instead, you went and got yourself declared as Mister Moonvale.”
