As usual, I’m delusional.
Her grin turns wolfish. “Lying to a potential ally is not a good way to start a relationship.”
She takes a step forward.
I stiffen. Is she going to try to kill me? My fingers have a death grip around the knife hilt.
“Shifters have excellent hearing. Your heartbeat gave you away,” she notes, barely above a whisper.
I grit my teeth, waiting for her attack, but it never comes. Instead, she backs away.
“You should hurry; the potion master is never gone for long.” She gives me a final, curious glance and then walks away.
Chapter 18
Vivian’s Point of View
Rule eighteen:If you’re going to commit an unforgivable atrocity, at least have the decency to make it look cool.
I’m out of time.
I’m not sure why I thought the potions would be labeled in English. Hell, I would have cheered at a hastily drawn stick figure.
No such luck.
So, given the whole ‘I have exactly zero time to figure out what to take’ predicament, I tried to grab a potion of every color, slipping them inside the small pouches I’d tied inside my skirts. As far as plans go, it was a solid win. Except, of course, for one small detail.
None of the potions did a thing.
Last night, the moment Leon fell asleep, I got to work. I tried each of the liquids on my door. Whennothing happened, I started desperately mixing them. All I had to show for my efforts was a sticky mess.
Still, I didn’t give up hope. This morning, when Leon dropped me off with Nymara, I decided I would go all or nothing and try to convince her to help me.
Only now, I’m convinced she’s the one who needs help.
Things started off fairly decently. Other than a slight strain in her voice when she asked if I’d read the books she gave me, she seemed sane. When I apologized, saying I haven’t made the time yet, she seemed annoyed and settled down with a drawing pad and pencil.
Foolishly, I let myself hope that she was over whatever episode she was suffering from yesterday – until she showed me her picture. It was a crudely drawn bird, eating some kind of enlarged, mutant worm. Her eyes were wide when she all but shoved the drawing into my arms.
Speechless, I accepted the drawing.
At my silence, her eye started twitching, and she stormed over to the other side of the room. Still clutching her pencil, she started tapping the wall. She kept repeating the same pattern, over and over, pausing to glance back at me every time, as if to make sure I was watching.
Every time, she looked at me like she thought I was a moron.
Hurtful.
I don’t care if Dr. Parnard isn’t a real therapist; I’m referring her.
Or I would, if I thought I was going to survive the next hour. Because, of course, Leon chose that moment to stride into the sitting room.
He’s wearing the same blue silk shirt with golden accents that he was wearing this morning, but now he’s left a few of the buttons undone, and his hair isn’t tied back. I think he’s trying to appear more casual, but not even loungewear could hide his eerie anticipation.
“Vivian, my love. Come, I want to show you something.”
He holds out a hand, and I throw a desperate look at Nymara, silently pleading with her to help me find a way out of this. She’s gone back to staring at the floor and pretending she isn’t here.
My shoulders slump.
