“Did you get what you came for?” asked Nicolas.
Taking his hand, I walked to the door. I knew I had to go, that overstaying my welcome would be like playing with fire. “And then some. We shall have to keep practiced.”
Nicolas choked on a breath, averting his gaze. He opened the door for me, his touch lingering on the handle as I passed through. “Good evening, Alana.”
“Good evening, Nicolas,” I mouthed.
Quinn and Winnie stood exactly where I’d left them. The viscount’s dark eyes took in my appearance in swift assessment: the missing bells and ribbons, the slightly-mussed hair, the flush that no amount of composed acting could conceal. He fell into step behind us without a word.
“Well then,” Winnie said briskly, taking my arm and steering me down the corridor. Once we’d put sufficient distance between ourselves and the prince’s guards, she leaned in closer. “Your hair is a disaster. Where are your pins?”
“In my hand,” I admitted, revealing the small collection. My palm was still warm, glowing with the ghost of Nicolas’ touch.
Winnie made a sound somewhere between exasperation and excitement. “Please tell me you at least managed to keep your clothes on.”
“Winnie!”
“I don’t hear you denying the accusation.” Despite her scolding tone, Winnie’s eyes sparkled with approval. “Come, let’s get you sorted before anyone important sees you looking so thoroughlyeducated.”
Chapter 23
Between Florence’s collectionand my own, the assortment of flora was rather impressive. Every jar was lined up on a shelf, their labels stripped away to test my ability to identify them based on appearance and smell. I had a good knowledge of herbs and knew my common fungi, but my understanding was limited to physical effects.
“Mugwort,” I said, taking in the sage-like aroma of the dried plant. “Medicinally, it’s good as a digestive aid and regulator for menstruation, and magically…?”
I trailed off, still unfamiliar with the magical properties of most of the collection. I’d learned that valerian was good for soothing troubled minds and inducing prophetic visions, that lavender served as a ward against psychic attacks, and fly agaric supposedly enabled the spellcaster to thin the veil between this world and the next…though I wasn’t sure of the last one, and I definitely wasn’t willing to test it out. One encounter with the Lord of Night was enough for a lifetime; I couldn’t risk another spiritual bombardment.
“Mugwort enhances dreams and visions.”
Ah, yes. There seemed to be a lot of that; every other herb affected visions, dreams, prophecies.
I went on.
“Hawthorn berry.” From the royal garden just before winter. “For treating ailments of the heart, as well as tempering blood.”
Florence tapped the side of the jar. “And magically, it assists with matters of love, though I understand you have little cause for concern in that regard.”
I huffed and rolled my eyes. “So, if I gather hawthorn berries into the full circle, and accent the crescents with fly agaric, could I enter the realm of spirits and make love to a soul?”
The hypothetical amused Florence, but she shook her head. “I wouldn’t suggest it, dearest.” The affectionate term had upgraded alongside my new status. At least Winnie had given up on her objections. “Thein-betweenis no place for an amateur sorceress to find herself. It is easy to become lost, or for less-than-benevolent forces to seek control of your body.”
“You speak of possession?” I turned to her.
“Many young apprentices have gone to sleep in their circles and never woken again. Many maleficia have attempted to bond their souls to those more powerful, only to become slaves within their own skin. If you thought the pain you experienced in your tethering was severe, you cannot imagine the suffering.”
I swallowed, putting a little distance between myself and the fungus. Until now, possession was only a grim superstition shared to frighten children into behaving. To know of its reality, and of the unimaginable pain it brought, raised the hair on my neck.
A familiar knocking informed us of Winnie’s approach, and as Florence crossed the room, she looked over her shoulder.
“It would be better to use hawthorn and mugwort within the crescents, and blue lotus in the full moon,” she educated, opening the door and walking away without so much as a glance toward Winnie. “Hawthorn opens the heart, mugwort bridges the dreams, and blue lotus allows spirits to touch, creating a sacred space within the rift for intimacy to occur. You’d learn these things if you read my journals, as I suggested.”
I’d tried, but even if the subject material weren’t overly complicated, Florence’s calligraphy was abysmal.
Winnie grunted, the burden of laundry heavy in her arms as she entered the room. She threw the clothing down and glared at Florence, putting a hand on her hip. “Pray tell, which of those herbs will get you off your lazy ass to assist with the pressing?”
Florence looked to me expectantly. I turned back to the jars with serious deliberation. “Hm…peppermint, or maybe golden root?”
“Very astute.”
