There were sprigs of dried herbs, chunks of colored minerals, and what looked suspiciously like a jar of frogspawn. Ribbon croaked loudly at that, offended, eyeing her and then the jar with his complaint.
“Sorry about that,” Hanna said, biting her lip and tucking it neatly away before gently patting his head in apology. He gave a contented croak and settled next to her.
I turned back to my carving, pretending not to notice how easily she’d started to hum along to the sound of my tools. It should’ve been annoying. Ialwaysfound anyone in my space when I was creating annoying. But for some reason, it wasn’t.
After an hour, the air filled with the scent of lavender and smoke. She was pouring liquid between vials, her brow furrowed in concentration, lips pursed slightly as she muttered something under her breath.Then, without warning, the cauldron hissed.
“Hanna—”
“I know, I know, I’ve got it—”
The liquid foamed, climbing over the rim like it was trying to escape. She panicked, grabbed for a jar, slipped on a stray chisel that had fallen off my table—and nearly went face-first into the workbench.
I caught her by the waist just in time. Jarring shock raced through me at the feel of her soft flesh under my palm.
Let her go.
For a heartbeat, everything froze. Her palms landed flat against my chest and I could feel her breath against my collarbone. The smell of rosemary and burnt sugar clung to her hair.
Her touch is going to scald me to the bone.
And we just… stared at each other. The voice screaming at me in my head torelease herwas no match for whatever instinct had taken over my arm and was pulling hercloser.I looked into her beautiful brown eyes, entranced by the emotions swirling there. A little embarrassment, some relief and an underlying emotion that looked a lot like excitement. My mouth went dry at that.
“Uh,” she said finally, voice small. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” I said, trying to sound steady—which was difficult, considering my heart was trying to beat its way out of my ribs.
She glanced away, biting her lower lip. “You’ve got quick reflexes.”
“And you’ve got bad balance,” I quipped.
Instead of offending her the way I’d meant it to, my statement made her laugh—the kind of laugh that warmed the whole room. She straightened slowly, brushing her hair back.
“Maybe I should brew sitting down next time,” she giggled.
“Or downstairs,” I muttered.
But she wasn’t put off by anything I was saying.It was as if she was insult-proof. I wasn’t sure why that had my eyes narrowing and questions swirling in my head, but it did.
She smirked. “And miss the company?”
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t, really. She smiled like she knew that.
Ribbon croaked from his corner, clearly unimpressed with our lack of potion control. The foam had already subsided, leaving a faint shimmer across the floor.
Hanna sighed. “At least it didn’t explode.”
“Small mercies,” I said, still trying to ignore the fact that my hands were tingling where they’d touched her.
She glanced at me sideways, a tiny smile playing at her lips. “You don’t smile much, do you?”
“Not usually.”
“Maybe you should,” she said softly. “You’re quite handsome when you do.”
Then she turned back to her work, humming again—like the moment hadn’t happened.But I couldn’t focus for the rest of the day.
Chapter 12
