‘For the pain,’ she said, handing it to him. ‘You ought to rest some more.’
‘Thank you,’ he said, tipping the liquid into his mouth.
She helped him get comfortable, and soon after realized why this particular potion was hidden so far back: it made one temporarily lose their senses.
Which was why Xander looked up at her with a foolish expression on his face, blinking slowly.
He reached for her hand, pulling her closer.
‘Darling Bisma,’ he said, hand in her hair. ‘I wish you didn’t hate me, not when I adore you so.’
‘Shh,’ she said, heart hammering. ‘You don’t know what you’re saying.’
‘You’re right,’ he said, his voice sleepy. His eyes were closing. ‘I don’t simply adore you, I—’
But he fell asleep before the end of the sentence, and Bisma could not tell if she was relieved or disappointed.
27
There were two days left to find the cure.
Bisma and Xander worked ceaselessly; there was no time to stop and ponder the very complicated emotions she felt for him. He did not bring it up either, and she considered that perhaps he had forgotten about what had transpired.
But then, Xander surprised her, like he always did.
‘Will you go to the festival dance with me this evening?’ he asked.
She blinked. They were in the greenhouse, and he was at a table behind her, mixing a potion. Pulling her hands from the pot she was growing white willow in, she turned.
‘What?’ she asked, convinced she had misheard him.
He walked around to her table, coming to stand next to her. He took her hand gently in his.
‘Darling Bisma, will you go to the festival dance with me?’ he repeated, smiling that charming smile of his. His green eyes sparkled. ‘I know there isn’t much time left for the cure, but a break will help us get refreshed. Anyway, sugar helps stimulate the mind. We learned all about it in school, no, really.’
‘You wish to gowith… me?’
He looked at her as if she was positively obtuse. ‘Yes,’ he said, furrowing his brows. ‘That’s why I’m asking you.’
‘Oh.’
‘Besides,’ he added, stepping closer. He tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear, his finger running over the curl. ‘I want to pick up where we left off the other night.’
His gaze went to her mouth, and she recalled nearly kissing him. Her cheeks felt warm. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her right then, and she stepped closer.
But he only kissed her cheek, sending a tingle down her spine.
‘OK,’ she squeaked. ‘I’ll go to the dance with you.’
There was a skip in his step as they continued working for another hour before she went back home to get ready. As she walked through town, which was busy with preparations for the festival, she caught snippets of a conversation.
‘The water has been awful, hasn’t it?’
‘It has, it has.’
‘Do you think it has to do with what the architect has been up to?’
‘Frederick Chapman? No, I doubt it. He’s the king’s architect; whatever he’s doing, I’m sure it’ll only benefit Old Town. My bet would be those Unwanted Girls.’
