Hanna
Iwas fairly certain that the cauldron shouldn’t be hissing the way it was.
According to my grandmother’s notes, it should have beenpurring. This wasquitea different sound.
My brow furrowed as the surface of the potion shimmered too bright. A blush-pink fog unfurling across my cluttered workspace.
“Oh no, no, no, no—”
The first thing that happened was that the cauldron burped. Which wasn’tthat muchof a warning signal.But then the entire workshop glittered as if a star had sneezed, and I realized that something wasverywrong.By the time the sparkles cleared, I was looking outside through the open door to where Savla stood, holding a plank of dark wood.
“What the hell did you do this time?” his gravelly voice cutthrough the haze like a blade.
I turned slowly. Outside, the ever-glow of Grebath’s streetlamps washed over the rooftop. I gave him a forced grin.
“Nothing,” I insisted, although I was almost certain I’d donesomething. I just had no idea what.
His narrowed eyes told me he didn’t believe me. And that was when I heard it. The sound of footsteps on the stairs to the rooftop.
Uh-oh.
I wasn’t the only one who noticed either. Savla huffed out an aggrieved breath and shook his head before turning to face the door, dropping the plank of wood and stepping in front of me in a protective stance that shouldnothave my heart flip-flopping as much as it was.
The first knock sounded harmless. The second nearly shook the door off its hinges. By the third, I knew I’d made aterriblemistake.
Before I could back up even further into the workshop, the door swung open and there was a horde of males standing at the threshold. The guard from downstairs, three of Dristan’s employees whose names I always mixed up, the nice facilities manager who always had an extra smile for me. They were all staring at me with dazed,adoringsmiles. The guard’s eyes shimmered with pink sparkles.
“Sweetest stars, there you are,” he breathed, like he’d been searching his whole life.
“Oh no,” I gasped, my stomach dropping.
Behind him came more—another guard and someone who had to be a courier, because he was carrying a half-crushed box in his hands. All of them blinking at me with glassy, lovestruck expressions. I glanced around quickly. There was no way—I froze when I saw the ventilation shaft that released into Savla’s workshop.
“That should be moved,” I snapped at him, but he was too busy blocking me from the males to focus on what I was saying.
One guard actuallyswooned. “You dropped something,” he said, clutching his chest. “My heart.”
“Oh for the love of—this was supposed to be aconfidence booster, not a romantic apocalypse!”
The guard who’d spoken first lumbered forward, smiling dreamily. “You smell like the moon.”
“That’sburnt rosemary,” I snapped.
I stumbled backward, tripping over a basket of dried nettles that I’d left on the floor of the workshop before righting myself and holding my hands out. “Everyone just—stay where you are, okay? I can fix this!”
The guard reached out like he wanted to cradle my face. “You don’t need to fix a miracle.”
“Oh, Goddess Mother—don’t you dare—”
The glass storm door of the workshop slammed shut in front of me, locking me in. Or more correctly, lockingthemout.
Savla filled the frame like a thundercloud, all muscle and dark scowl and the faint scent of cedar. His sleeves were rolled, his hands still dusted with sawdust. “Looks like you brewed public chaos again.”
“Could youhelpinstead of commentating like a street prophet?”
“Why ruin the entertainment?” he asked with a shrug, but he was scowling out at where the males had their faces pressed up against the glass, drawing hearts in the fog their breath made.
I glared at him. “You’re not affected?”
