I squeezed her hand. “Let’s converse over tea.”
Farren’s smile was eager, no doubt hoping I had gossip from the capital. The concept was laughable, in truth. For what I knew—what I had witnessed—would soon be all anyone could talk about. But it would be a risk to dispense such information. Farren would have to wait to discover the death of the King as the rest of the town did.
She stepped from the door she held propped open, looking over her shoulder before leading me inside. The glance was subtle, but I caught the way her eyes sought my brother, the flush of her cheeks when he met her gaze. They were a good fit. Even if my brother acted a bit like a prick, I still loved him and I wanted them both to be happy. He was oblivious though, and she was too shy to be forward.
The shop was warm and cozy, a comforting space. After so much time spent in the wagon, I was grateful to be home. Familiarity blanketed me, and when I rolled my shoulders, the tension in my body eased.
“Leighis’s gone to bed already,” Farren said as I followed her into the back room.
Without Aureus to sit with him in the evenings, I wasn’t terribly surprised. When our mentor’s memory had begun to fade, he’d clung tighter to routine as if it grounded him somehow. It was easy enough most days. I enjoyed his company in the mornings as I prepared orders for deliveries or took note of the supplies that we were running low on. And in the evenings, when Aureus sat at the front counter going over paperwork for the shop, I knew Leighis’s company was a comfort to him as well.
The scent of spices greeted me, familiar and welcoming. I crossed the room, trailing my hand over the rough wooden table that took up its center. My workspace. It was a relief to be back.
“I just built up the fire,” Farren informed me as she leaned against the table. “You’re running low on wood, though.”
I took note of the pile; she was right. There was enough for a few more days at most. I sighed. Drying firewood was one of my least favorite chores. It was still wet outside, so the logs would need to be laid out inside to dry thoroughly before being stacked and stored. “I’ll let Aureus know,” I replied absentmindedly.
I turned my back to Farren and scanned the upper shelves to the left of the stove. I’d been to an apothecary in the capital once. The jars there were clear andeach was the same, meticulously kept. But we couldn’t afford expensive containers; our shop ran on chaos and labels. We used what we had collected over time.
With two jars in hand, I returned to the table and placed them on its well-worn surface. Then, as a secondary thought, I clipped off a few rue branches I’d hung to dry a fortnight ago.The little yellow flowers would add sweetness to the tea and aid in the brew’s strength.
“Did Leighis give you any trouble?”I asked Farren as I drew water from the barrel beside the stove, noting a puddle on the floor. The damn thing was constantly leaking.
“Leighis’s never a trouble,” Farren hummed. It was a lie, of course. He’d been increasingly burdensome the past few seasons, waking often in a disoriented state and wandering the shop.Occasionally, he fell and hurt himself or would set out to make tea for his aching muscles and forget the correct herbs to seep. We had to keep a close eye on him so he wouldn’t build the fire too high or prepare something dangerous by accident and drink it.1
“Thank you for looking after him,”I said, letting the depth of my words show in my eyes.
Farren smiled, genuine warmth giving her an air of lightness that, for a moment, I envied her. Hooking a teakettle above the fire, I reminded myself that Farren’s childhood was nothing like my own. I couldn’t compare us.
“Would you like some tea too?”I asked, turning to the cupboard.
“Oh yes, please,” Farren chirped.
I grabbed two ceramic cups and brought them back to the table. My friend watched me with eagerness. I sighed, knowing she was waiting for me to tell her about the festival. And the guard… what had happened to him? Worrying my brow, I opened the jar labeled silphium and used a metal spoon to scoop the dried leaves and seeds into the strainer.
“Sil-phi-um,” Farren read, taking the jar from me. She sniffed it, quirked her lips up, and set it back down. “What is that one?”She gestured to the second jar.
“Asafetida,” I told her, scooping some of the yellow powder directly into one of the cups. It would dissolve in the heated water.
“You’re just putting it in one of them?”she noted. I held the jar out to her, and with a draw of her brows, she leaned in. Her nose crinkled, and she pulled back. “Gods, Evera, whyever would you use such a thing?”
I laughed and put the lid back on the jar. “It’s medicinal.”
“Are you unwell?” Farren asked, concern weighing in her voice.
I shook my head and took the jars back to the shelves. “No,” I said with my back to her. “It’s preventative, that’s all.”
“Preventative?” Farren asked.
My friend was a worrier and naïve, probably to a fault. “It’s a contraceptive.”
Her eyes widened, and she blushed. The poor girl had never even been kissed. The entirety of her knowledge of sex and men came from myself and her elder sister, Renna, who’d married the blacksmith a year prior.The blacksmith, it turned out, was quite creative in his lovemaking, and Renna always had stories to tell when she came to visit. Ones that made my stomach coil and Farren’s cheeks flush.
The teakettle hissed, and with a cloth, I took it from its hook and brought it back to the table. I poured the heated water over the strainer into the cup without the yellow powder and let it sit.
“Who was he?” Farren asked, curiosity overcoming her bashfulness.
I hummed, unable to resist the faint smile that curved at my lips. The urge to tell my friend of the tryst I had shared with the attractive stranger tugged on me. There would be no harm in sharing that much. “A castle guard.” Satisfaction curled my words.
