“Oh, I didn’t know,” I said, flustered. My ire at Giselle only seemed to grow. She should’ve told me whom this house belonged to.
“I suppose Giselle brought you over.” Ferdinand shifted the basket of greens on his arm. “I don’t believe you’ve met my grandson yet?”
A strapping young man appeared behind him, a crate of red and yellow bell peppers in his arms. His chocolate brown hair curled charmingly at the nape of his neck.
I blinked. “Gio?” Surely this wasn’t the same little boy I had met at the Grand Alevine Opera.
The young man chuckled. “That would be my little brother,” he said, shifting the crate to his side. He smiled and offered me a calloused hand. “Alexander.”
I shook it gingerly, not used to this form of greeting from young men. Usually they opted for a bow or a kiss on the hand.
Ferdinand cleared his throat. “And what are you doing here, milady? You’re dressed like a proper witch and all.”
I bit my lip, wondering if I should spill my worries to an old witch I barely knew while my fiancé was frolicking in his garden as a cat.
Decidedly not.
“My...friendwas turned into a cat,” I said, blushing at how ridiculous that sounded. “Giselle’s lending me her space—er, your space—to make him an antidote.”
“A cat? Good prank to pull,” said Alexander with a grin. “Need any help with the antidote? I reckon you haven’t much experience potion-making.”
My shoulders relaxed. I hadn’t noticed how tense they were.
“Yes, that would be perfect!”
I thanked Alexander profusely as he followed me to the kitchen. The clutter of ingredients on the counter hadn’t made sense of themselves since I stepped out.
“There,” I said, gesturing to the recipe book. “I need broadleaf gelatin, but I’m not sure what that is.”
Alexander surveyed the shelf before us. “Here we are,” he said, leaning in behind me to grab a rectangular paper packet. He gave me a devastatingly charming smile. “How many sheets, milady?”
Heavens. He was a shameless flirt.
I was about to say something to discourage him when his gaze flicked to the window. “Is that your afflicted friend?” Alexander asked.
Bennett sat on the windowsill, scratching at the glass. His brow was lowered in a forbidding frown—or at least it would have been forbidding if he weren’t a cat.
“Yes, he is,” I said. I lifted the window. “What is it?”
It’s getting cold outside, Bennett meowed.
I surveyed the sunny garden. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, but I let him in anyhow. With Alexander here, at least the stove wouldn’t be a complete hazard. Bennett landed on the countertop.
“Aw, cute little thing, isn’t he?” Alexander patted Bennett’s head.
Bennett hissed. I grabbed him before he did something foolish, like bite. “Apologies. He’s not in a very good mood,” I said, holding him to my chest.
Alexander raised his brows. “Why? They didn’t give him a permanent transformation potion, did they?”
“I sincerely hope not.”
Alexander tilted his head to the potion book and removed three clear rectangular sheets veined with green from the packet. He set them in a separate bowl and soaked them with a ladle full of nixgrass tea from the cauldron—all with more ease than I could hope to have.
I leaned over to watch him work. Bennett meowed in protest, but I held him firm. “Are you an herbwitch, Alexander?” I asked.
“That I am,” he said. He set down the ladle. “I do need to head back to the fields in a few minutes, but is there anything else you need my help with?”
Perhaps some innocent flirting was in order. I pulled on my winning smile, hoping it was charming enough to relieve me of more labor. This seemed to have the desired effect. Alexander’s cheeks pinked.
