He nodded and began separating the coins from the bag to take stock of our earnings for the day. My aunt and uncle—Beau’s parents—had owned the shop, the Arcane Apothecary, for nearly twenty years now. My own parents had started it before then, but when my mother died during childbirth and my father had followed five years later, my aunt and uncle adopted me and took over the shop. I grew up learning the ways of the apothecary alongside my younger cousin. It was the only life I’d ever known—stable and comfortable, if not sometimes a bit…lonely. Like I was living a life meant for someone else.
Four years ago when I turned twenty-one, I’d decided to move to the small apartment above the shop instead of continuing to take up space in Uncle Ragnar and Aunt Morgana’s household. They had done so much for me, and while they claimed me as their own, I’d always felt like a burden. Something thrust into their hands out of necessity. Out of pity. They loved me, of course, and were the only parents I’d known for the majority of my life. But they’d given me sixteen years at that point—it had beenmyturn to make something of myself.
I’d been running the Arcane ever since. Beau helped where he could, and it was still under Ragnar and Morgana’s name—until I saved enough to properly buy it from them. But it wasmine. Every stained glass window, every dusty nook, every wooden shelf lined with vials and herbs, tonics and bobbles. I’d found my purpose in the shadows of these shelves, the magic of my Alchemist blood singing each time I opened the doors.
If only the town felt the same way.
Morgana and Ragnar were respected in our province of Feywood, one of six in the Veridian Empire. The Arcane had always been a renowned establishment—the best shop for Alchemists to stock up on their herbs, try new potions, and buy basic remedies they didn’t have the time or desire to brew themselves. But business had been steadily declining over the past couple of years. Once it had become obvious thatIhad taken over, the whispers started and the sales slowed.
I hadcursed blood, they said. It seemed wherever I went, darkness wasn’t far behind. An orphan with parents who died such tragic deaths, the little girl who couldn’t make friends, the young woman with a penchant for toeing the line between acceptable and indecent, conventional and peculiar, righteous and wicked.
These people had condemned me before I could string full sentences together. Never mind the fact that I made thebesthealing poultices in the province, that my protection charms were second to none, and that Morgana and Ragnar had dedicated twodecades of their lives to this place. The citizens here were superstitious to a fault. If they saw something wrong with you, somethingother, they distanced themselves as much as possible. I hated that the Arcane was suffering because of it. I hated that it wasmyfault.
“Sales were a little down today,” Beau said with a shrug as he finished counting.
And I hated that it still hurt, every time.
“But we have a couple specialty orders that came in earlier,” he continued. “I wrote them down and put them next to your Grimoire.” He gave me a sheepish look. “I hope that’s okay.”
I pursed my lips but stayed quiet. An Alchemist’s Grimoire was incredibly private, and while I knew my cousin didn’t mean any harm, the idea of someone seeing into my spells—mymind, my magic—set me on edge.
He must have seen the look on my face, for his eyes widened. “I’m sorry, Rosie,” he said, using his childhood nickname for me. “I didn’t look, I just set the paper down and walked away."
“It’s fine,” I said curtly, crossing to the front door and locking it. Before I could return to the counter, however, a body slammed into the wood on the other side. Beau shouted in alarm behind me, and I heard something crash. He must’ve knocked over one of the glass jars.
I reached into the pocket of my brown skirt to grab a stem of amaranth, my favorite protection charm. Slowly, I unlocked the door and turned the handle, heavy breaths reaching my ears through the crack in the wood.
“Rose, is that you? It’s Bethaly. I’ve got a delivery. Quick, this time—I can’t stay long.”
I exhaled at the familiar voice, pulling the door open all the way to reveal a young woman with shoulder-length, curly brown hair, golden skin, and a purple travel cloak sweeping around her ankles in the brisk Feywood evening. Her chapped lips broke into a grin, the dimples on her cheeks bursting to life.
“Sorry I didn’t make it earlier. Had a little trouble getting through the forest,” she said breathlessly.
“We’re closed, Beth,” I said with atsk, crossing my arms. “Deliveries need to be made during operating hours.”
“Oh, shut up and come here.” She dropped her bag and enveloped me in a hug, which I returned warmly, letting my false grumpiness fall away.
After a moment, I stiffened, feeling eyes from the street watching us. “Get in before someone says something,” I said, leading her into the shop, both of us lugging her bags of supplies to the counter.
Bethaly was from Celestria, our neighboring province to the northwest. Celestria was home to many flowers, herbs, and various natural ingredients we didn’t have here in Feywood, and Beth was one of the few permitted to cross the border between the two to make routine deliveries. Fifteen years ago, the current emperor—Emperor Gayl—had established a law requiring one to have a special permit to enter another province, whether it was for trade, personal reasons, or other business. We were no longer free to travel among the empire, as our ancestors had been able to.
Another law themightyEmperor Gayl put into place to divide us further. Just the thought of him sitting on his gilded throne watching the rest of the empire regress made anger boil beneath my skin.
Beth had been working with us for several years and over the course of time, had become one of my dearest friends. We didn’t see each other as often as I’d like, but whenever she had to travel here for extended periods of time, she always stayed with me.
We had to be careful, though. Tension between the provinces had been growing ever since Gayl had enacted his law, and was now at an all-time high. Many people here wouldn’t like the idea of me having such close ties with a Celestrian—or any foreigner to Feywood, for that matter.
I was already an outcast in my own province. I didn’t need to give them a reason to hate me even more.
“That should be all of it,” Beth said, heaving one of the bags onto the counter. “The guards took forever letting me through theforest. You know how border checks go when we get this close to the Decemvirate.” She rolled her eyes in annoyance.
A chill went down my spine at the mention of the upcoming tournament, but I shook it off. “What good are those Strider abilities if you can’t make it on time? Can’t youmagickyourself here from the border?” I joked, wiggling my fingers at her.
She scoffed. “I wish. It would be so much easier if I could just”—she winked at me, and in the next breath, disappeared from sight and reappeared right behind Beau—“snap my fingers and be here.”
My cousin yelped. “I hate it when you do that,” he said with a huff, his cheeks turning bright red as he began pulling tin canisters from Beth’s bag. Those with the magic of Celestria, like Beth, were called Striders. Their power allowed them to magically transport themselves from one space to another. She loved using her abilities to tease Beau.
“You’re just jealous.” Beth grinned, ruffling his hair. He shoved her off and ducked away from her reach.
