Verin lifted a brow at me.
“I've been screwed over by my father's people twice now.” I set the last bottle down with a loud clink. “The first was his best friend.”
“The man who cast the RS upon you.” Verin nodded. “I recall.”
“Yes. The second time was Osamu, the Leader of Fire. Again, he was a man my father trusted—the head of his elemental family. Osamu's betrayal wasn't as bad as Thomas' but I still count it. This, if it is a witch, will make three.”
“Three's a charm.” Verin smirked and waved toward the three bottles.
“Literally, it seems.” I sighed and replaced two of the bottles in the bag, leaving one out. “I think I need to visit my father.”
Verin's jaw clenched.
“You can come with me,” I offered.
He relaxed. “Very well. We can go tomorrow. I'd like to hear what Lord Akio finds in his autopsy first.”
“You and I both,” I muttered.
“Queen Elaria, are you certain it's awitch'spotion?” Li Wei asked me.
I frowned. “I suppose it could have been crafted by another type of Beneather. There are other races who make potions.”
“But Witches are the best at it,” Peng pointed out.
“It all depends on what the potion does,” Eiji added. “If we can discover what type of potion it is, that should be helpful in determining who created it.”
“If it is a potion that protects the user from my spellsong, or magic in general, it's a new formula,” I said gravely. “I wouldn't be able to guess who crafted it. It would have to be analyzed by a witch, who could then tell us what element was used.”
“But not who specifically made it?” Peng asked.
I shrugged. “As far as I know, all Witches leave their mark upon their spells but you have to be familiar with their signature to recognize it. If my father can't do it, I'll take it to the Witch Leaders. Hopefully, they'll be able to tell us who made it. They'll at least be able to verify that it was crafted by a witch.”
Verin grunted in a way that conveyed irritation.
“It's the best that I can do.”
“I know, and there's nothing I can do to help,” Verin muttered. “Both situations vex me greatly—the latter more than the former.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Verin and I decided to have lunch in his private garden while we waited for the autopsy results. He spread a blanket beneath a cherry blossom tree, right beside the pond, and we settled ourselves on it with a tray of food—steamed bread, pickled radishes and cucumbers, pork dumplings, fish with ginger sauce, and rice cakes for dessert. There was also plum wine and cool water to drink. I smiled at the Asian-inspired fare. I recognized elements from China, Japan, and even Korea—all of the countries the Lóng had settled in.
“You didn't put us by the pond so you could grab something fresher to munch on, did you?” I teased Verin.
Verin grunted/snorted and grinned. “Eat your lunch, you little minx.”
I started to eat, making sounds of appreciation as I did. We sat cross-legged across from each other, the food between us. It was very comfortable and I found myself enjoying the meal, scenery, and company immensely. The sweet and savory aroma of the food overpowered the delicate fragrance of cherry blossoms but a gentle breeze—no doubt manufactured—occasionally freshened the air with their floral-almond scent. Golden fish swam past us unmolested—they didn't know how lucky they were—and black swans glided across the glassy surface of the lake.
“It's so strange to see birds underwater,” I mused as I watched their lazy drifting.
“Just like you, they adjusted quickly.”
I made a thoughtful sound and he laughed. I lifted a brow in question.
“You're picking up my habits,” Verin said with satisfaction.
“That was not a grunt, it was a pensivehmm,” I insisted. “Totally different from you do.”
