Veda starts walking, and he falls into step beside her, keeping enough distance from Antaris to give him a sense of independence without letting him feel alone. She says nothing at first, fussing again with her poofy hair. “My vision was from the night of Peter’s graduation party. I saw you.”
Hiram’s lip twitches. “I’m disappointed it took you swimming to remember me.”
“Had I seen your arrogance on display that night, I might have remembered you sooner. I know an asshole when I see one.”
“Touché. I asked Peter about you, but he told me you were with someone.”
“Ah, Tobias.”
“Terrible name.”
“Terrible partner.”
They look at each other and dissolve into laughter, sobering only when Antaris returns with a handful of dandelions for Veda. She accepts them and tucks them into her bag.
“I’ll show your dad how to make dandelion tea,” she promises.
Encouraged, Antaris runs off again, eager to collect more. Hiram spots a white flower nearby and offers it to Veda when she looks his way. She raises an eyebrow. “Youdoknow that’s poisonous, right?”
Startled, Hiram drops it, trying to appear calm until he hears Veda snickering.
He scowls. “You’re lying.”
Her grin fades in a flash, head turning, alert. Hiram does the same. He hears it, too.A voice.
Antaris is still immersed in his flower hunt, touching one with careful fingers before picking it and doing the same to the next. He handles them reverently, as if he’s greeting them or thanking him, an ode of respect.
They freeze when they hear it again.
Barely audible, hoarse from disuse, but definitely Antaris. A rush of realization leaves Hiram torn between approaching and retreating. Veda,however, focuses intently on Antaris, who is lost in his own world. He veers off, pausing to examine moss at the base of a tree before something more colorful catches his eye. Veda approaches from behind, placing a hand on his shoulder. Antaris startles, then relaxes when he realizes it’s her. His gaze shifts to Hiram, who doesn’t know how many steps it takes to reach his son. He kneels when he’s there, with Antaris placing another bundle of dandelions in his hands.
“Are you thanking the dandelions before picking them?” Veda asks gently.
He looks from her to Hiram, hazel eyes bright as he nods. Shyness gives way to quiet determination. Careful as ever, Antaris steps closer.
A single whispered word changes everything.
“Hi.”
Twenty-Nine
Failure is both mentally demoralizing and physically painful.
It’s a waste to bleed and suffer lingering aches from the consequences of magic that leads nowhere, but that’s the nature of risk versus reward. Veda holds the vial of the Liquid Curse to the light, reluctantly accepting the truth. She failed.
“I thought the potion was supposed to be clearbeforethe two-day incubation period,” Peter says from the doorway of the brewing room at Weston. Veda’s been here all morning, taking each step carefully, paying the quiet price of the magic it takes to brew. The first sign of trouble came quickly after she started, when some of the vials in the storage closet began to vibrate, clearly affected by the pull of magic.
“Yeah, it is.”
“Ah. Where are Hiram and Antaris?”
“Home,” Veda replies absently, skimming the potions book. “We didn’t think it was a good idea for Antaris to watch in case something went wrong.”
“Home? We?”
She rolls her eyes. “Here you go.”
Peter smiles. “I’m happy for you three.”
