He smiled at them.He smiled forRibbon. It seemed likeI was the only one that he didn’t smile for. It should have bothered me, but instead, for some strange reason, I saw him as a challenge.
I was certain that the little jabs he’d made during the weeks that we’d shared the workshop were meant to ward me off. He thought that simple little quips would be enough to do that. Little did he know that the family I grew up in used insults like that as an appetizer. Barely enough to ping against the armor that I’d been forced to don every day.
It didn’t help that he was using them less and less now. Instead, I was treated to silence, something that I wasalsovery used to.
I loved chatting with my coven, but silence was also something that I needed. Especially when I was brewing new potions. Experimentation required focus, so I usually barricaded myself away for that. It was nice that I could have someone nearby and still have the quiet to create.
My bag was heavy today and I watched his eyes flitter to where my shoulder was slumped with the weight.He just handed me a clean rag, like he somehow knew I’d spill something before the day was over, before taking the bag from me and moving it to the workbench that was now mine.
And maybe I liked that about him—the quiet predictability, the way he didn’t fill silence just to fill it. Being around him felt like taking a deep breath after holding one for too long.
I always wondered how I should behave with my coven. I wasn’t used to their joyful exuberance, and it had taken some time to get used to them. They were my family now—in all the ways that mattered--and I absolutely loved that.
But with Savla, I didn’t feel like I needed to get used to him. I didn’t think he hadanyexpectations of me. Which was oddly... freeing.
I wasn’t sure if it was because he’d rescued me, or if it hadstarted even before. The first time I’d noticed him, I’d realized that he wasn’t intrusive in the same way the others were. There weren’t any questions, any probing into my past. Not with Savla. And for some insane reason, that made me feelsafewith him.
I set up my potions on the side table again, careful to avoid the area where I’d nearly died tripping over a chisel a couple days ago—even though Savla had been quick to move the chisel back onto his tool shelf.He was carving something new—a wooden panel with the outline of a city skyline, every line so deliberate it almost felt like reverence.
“You always work like that,” I said after a while, my voice barely above the hum of his tools.
“Like what?” he asked, not looking up.
“Like you’re trying to fix the world with your work.”
“I’m not trying to fix the world. I just want them to see what I see,” he said, and I heard the frown in his voice.
The words hit something inside of me that I hadn’t been aware existed. A small piece of armor was chipped off and I felt my lips curve. “And here I thought you just liked showing off,” I whispered, the words lower and more intimate.
That earned me a sideways glance—quick, but full of something almost amused. It felt like sunlight breaking through clouds.
I went back to my brewing, half watching him from the corner of my eye. There was something grounding about the rhythm we’d fallen into—him with his quiet precision, me with my messy experiments, and Ribbon hopping between us like a self-appointed supervisor, his tongue hanging like an eager puppy.
Sometimes I’d talk—telling him stories, explaining spells or even just making little observations—and he’d grunt in response. Other times, he’d ask about the things I was mixing, his voice low, curious, like he didn’t realize he was asking.
It was easy.Tooeasy.
And I hadn’t experienced that in a long time.When the potion started to simmer correctly, I exhaled in relief.
“It worked,” I whispered to myself.
Savla looked up. “It didn’t explode. That’s progress.”
“Hey!” I tossed a bit of dried mint at him. It bounced harmlessly off his shoulder.
He actually smiled. Just a flicker—but it was real. Andso handsome. I caught it, and I swear my heart did a stupid, traitorous flip.
Ribbon croaked approvingly, and Savla groaned. “Don’t encourage her.”
“Too late,” I said, grinning.
The first time I’d seen Ribbon the toad, I’d been taken by him. I’d tilted my head at the adorable creature in front of me. He was covered in grey fur with theslightesttinge of green at the base and his big, bulging eyes were protruding from his face. He was recognizable as a toad, but not like any toad I’d ever seen or that existed on this plane. I’d known almost right away that Ribbon had to have come from the same place Savla and his brothers had.Hellplaneas they called it.
Ribbon had sharp, fang-like teeth that were bared while he plopped his long tongue out to look at me, panting as that same tongue almost reached the floor. His flat face was really only able to show his eyes and mouth. He was at the same time the most hideous andcutestthing I’d ever seen.
And after getting to know him? I was already in love with him. If I could toadnap him and take him home with me every night, I would, but he was diligently loyal to Savla and only visited with me when he was bored at night.
We stayed up there until sunset, neither of us saying much. The city stretched below us, washed in gold and smoke and something like peace. And for the first time in ages, I didn’tfeel like I was running from something—or waiting for the next disaster.I was just…here,with him.
