It’s the same way I alwaysknewhow to make drinks when I worked at the Maple Pig.
As I think about the Maple Pig, I can’t help but glance at Riven.
I immediately regret it.
Because he’s watching me with the same fascination he did on our first meeting at the bar, when I mixed him that pink drink and placed it in front of him.
Back then, I thought his interest was genuine curiosity. Maybe even attraction.
Now, I know better.
Because he was studying me. Analyzing my every move, looking for ways to twist my talent into something that served him. Just like he’s doing now. Making sure hisassetis still worth the investment.
I narrow my eyes at him, force myself to break his gaze, and let everything other than the potion in front of me fade away, like I always did while mixing drinks.
Eventually, I’m done.
And when I take a step back, Lysandra lifts the dagger from the table, slices her palm, and adds the final touch—her blood.
