“The formulation records.” Leo’s voice had gentled slightly. Just a fraction. “If I could see them, I might be able to identify patterns. What explains why your shop specifically is experiencing these effects.”
Junie stared at him for a long moment. Glimmer shifted against her neck, the snake’s earlier hostility fading.
“Fine.” She headed toward the back of the shop, not waiting to see if he followed. “But if you touch anything without asking, I’ll hex you. And unlike my potions, my hexes still work perfectly.”
“Noted.”
Was that amusement in his voice? She didn’t turn around to check.
SIX
JUNIE
For the next hour, Junie watched Leo Castellan dissect her life’s work.
He examined her ingredient storage. Questioned her sourcing—local suppliers, timing of deliveries, any changes in the past six months. He photographed her cauldron configurations and the layout of her distillation system. He took notes in that neat, precise handwriting, filling page after page of his leather notebook.
He didn’t touch anything without asking first. She hated that she couldn’t fault him for it.
“These recipes.” He paused by the shelf where she kept her grandmother’s leather-bound book alongside her own notes. “Some of them are quite old.”
“Family formulations. Passed down through generations.” Junie positioned herself between him and the book. She couldn’t have explained why, but the thought of his analytical attention on her grandmother’s handwriting felt too intimate. Too exposing. “They’re not the problem.”
“You’re certain?”
“I’ve been brewing from these recipes since I was twelve years old.” She lifted her chin. “I could make Grandmother’sDreamless Sleep in my actual sleep. The issue isn’t the formulations. It’s the energy running through this space.”
Leo’s attention shifted to the basement door. “The ley line access.”
“It’s what makes this location valuable for potion work. Direct tap into raw magical energy.” Junie crossed her arms. “Usually it’s an asset. The surge has turned it into a liability.”
“May I see it?”
“The basement?” She hesitated. The ley line access point was her most guarded professional secret. The thing that sets Moonrise Mixology apart from every other potion shop on the coast. “That’s… sensitive.”
“I’m not interested in stealing your trade secrets.” His voice was dry. “I’m trying to understand why the surge is affecting your business more severely than others.”
Junie studied his face. Still guarded. But there was genuine curiosity in the set of his shoulders rather than judgment.
“Five minutes,” she said finally. “And what you see doesn’t go in your report.”
“Agreed.”
She led him to the basement door. The wood was hot under her palm—hotter than it should have been. The ley line was definitely agitated today. Responding to her presence, or his.
The stairs creaked as they descended. Climate-controlled storage lined the walls—aging racks for potions requiring time, temperature-sensitive ingredients in spelled containers. And at the far end, visible through a ward-shimmer, the ley line access point glowed a soft, pulsing blue.
“Impressive.” Leo’s voice was quiet. Reverent, almost, which was the last thing she’d expected from him.
“It’s been in my family for generations. Grandmother chose this building specifically for the intersection.” Junie watched the light flare and dim—faster than usual, brighter than it should be.“Before the surge, it was stable. Predictable. Now it’s like trying to brew with lightning instead of fire.”
Leo stepped closer to the access point, stopping just short of the ward. The blue light reflected off his features, softening the hard lines of his face.
“It responds to emotional magic.” He wasn’t asking.
“How did you?—”
“The pulse rate changed when we entered. It’s reacting to us.” He turned to look at her, and in the strange blue light, his expression was almost unreadable. “Mate bonds are highly emotional. If the surge is intensifying bonding magic, and your ley line responds to emotional energy…”
