“I mixed them up once.”
“Once was enough. Mrs. Hargrove couldn’t sleep for two days and came back here ready to burn the place down.”
I write the labels in careful letters and press them onto the glass. The apothecary is quiet this morning, just Julie and me up front while her mother, Danielle, grinds herbs in the back. The shop sits between a cobbler and a candle seller, narrow and deep, with shelves stacked to the ceiling and dried roots hanging from the rafters. I found it on my second day in the Narrowhalls, asked Julie about a jar of comfrey, and the conversation went on so long that Danielle came out from the back to see what was happening. I volunteered to help on the spot, and they let me, and I’ve come back every day since.
I like it here. The work is close to what I used to do in Tessana, and Julie is easy to be around. She doesn’t ask things that would make me uncomfortable. The Narrowhalls make my life in the golems’ citadel bearable. The corridors are built for my height, the voices are human, and the food is familiar. Up in the Highhalls, everything is carved at a scale that makes me feel like a child, and Korr is always somewhere nearby, hovering. I don’t know what to make of him yet. I haven’t decided, and until I do, I’d rather be down here, where I can talk to people and learn the layout of the place, and figure out what my options are if things go wrong. Making friends is the smart thing to do, even ifI have to push myself. I forgot how to talk to people, how to be around them and open up, but Julie and her mother seem to be understanding.
They know who I am. I told Julie and Danielle myself, because I wanted them to learn it from me, not via market gossip. Korr’s wife, the latest one. By now, the whole Narrowhalls probably knows. It’s a small community, after all, and when someone new shows up, all the bored housewives start their own investigation.
The door opens and two women walk in. One is brunette with long hair past her shoulders, the other so blonde her hair is almost white. The brunette does the talking.
“We need creams,” she says, walking straight to the counter. “Serums too, if you have them. Something to make the skin brighter.” She turns to the blonde and points at her face. “Look at her. She’s got sun spots everywhere, and we barely see the sun down here. It’s ridiculous.”
The blonde stands there patiently, like this has happened before.
Julie pulls two jars from the shelf behind her and sets them on the counter.
“This one has rose hip and jojoba. The other is heavier, better for the spots. You put it on at night and wash it off in the morning.”
The brunette opens the heavier jar and sniffs it. The blonde turns to me.
“Are you Sorina?” she asks. “Korr’s wife?”
I glance at Julie. A quick look, just checking with her in case she might signal to me how I should answer such a sudden, direct question. Julie raises her eyebrows a fraction and goes back to the jars.
“I am,” I say.
The blonde comes around the side of the counter, and before I can step back, she pulls me into a hug, her arms tight around my shoulders.
“I’m so happy to meet you! I’ve been meaning to come by.” She lets go and holds me at arm’s length. “I’m Xenia.”
I stand with my hands at my sides, not sure what to do.
The brunette leans on the counter and gives me a wave.
“Hannah.”
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” I say. “But I’m not sure I understand.”
Hannah looks at Xenia, and Xenia grins.
“I used to be in your place,” Hannah says. “Four months ago, I was the one living up in the Highhalls.”
“And it was me a year ago,” Xenia says. “We both lived there. With Korr.”
I take half a step back and my hip bumps the shelf behind the counter. A jar rattles, and I reach behind me to steady it without turning around. I look at Julie, who’s watching with a half-smile that tells me she knew this was coming.
“Don’t worry,” Hannah says. “It’s in the past, and nothing happened.”
“Nothing happened,” I repeat.
Xenia shrugs. “Well, we did kiss once. But there was no spark, so to speak.”
She says it the way someone talks about a coat she tried on that didn’t fit. It didn’t bother her then and it doesn’t bother her now.
These are women who lived in the same room I sleep in. Who used the same bathing room, the same wardrobe, and the same bed. I don’t know what to do with that. It’s strange, and the fact that they’re both standing here treating it like old news makes it stranger.
Another customer comes through the door, a woman with a basket on her arm, and Julie moves to serve her.
