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I blinked slowly, my eyes opening to find Gran smiling down at the cauldron. With a slow nod, she said, “Good.”

I let out a relieved breath. “I’m just a bit jittery today.”

“It’s not just you,” Gran said, shuffling around the kitchen to grab an empty vial. “The entire forest is unsettled today. There have been disturbances nearby. I can smell it in the wind. That’s why I shut that window.”

“What kind of disturbances?” I asked, tempted to step outside to see for myself.

Gran shot me a sharp look. “Wolven Mages.”

I suppressed a shudder. Wolven Mages were dark conjurers who twisted their magic to bind the souls of wolves to their own. I often heard them howling in the night, just like from my nightmare.

It made me fear them all the more. Because what if they were somehow behind these visions? What if their unholy magic was affecting me from afar?

Biting my lip, I glanced toward the fogged window. Were the Wolven close to the cabin? Would they venture this way? Our home was tucked away in the woods, and we didn’t often get visitors—whether friendly or hostile. Long ago, Gran and my mother had belonged to a witch clan. But they’d been ousted before I was born, though I had no idea why. Then, my mother died, which was so painful for Gran that she didn’t like me talking about it. For most of my life, it was just the two of us. Gran claimed we didn’t need the clan. But I had to admit, it would be helpful to have other witches around.

“Here.” Gran thrust an empty vial into my hands, jolting me from my thoughts.

I uncorked it, then carefully poured some of the elixir into it with a ladle. Gran was already lining up other vials, intent on providing me with a week’s supply of my tonic. We always made a large batch of it so I had extras, just in case.

“You’ve already taken it today, right?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “And I have a dose for tomorrow, too, just in case.”

“Good. Never forget your tonic, Cece.”

“I know, I know.” I poured the liquid into another vial. Though I’d been taking this tonic for years, I was often forgetful. Gran usually had to place the vials on the windowsill right by my bed so I’d remember to take it when I woke up.

I trusted Gran. And even if I didn’t, all the ingredients in my tonic served a purpose. Based on the texts I’d read, yarrow root subdued a person’s magic. Lavender and sweetroot leaves brought soothing comfort to combat painful side effects. And white ash was a numbing agent, meant to make a witch’s power dormant.

Which was odd, because my magic wasn’t dormant at all. I could still conjure, even with the tonic in my system.

Sometimes I wondered if I was alarmingly powerful. I couldn’t imagine how devastating my magic would be if I didn’t drink the tonic. I might accidentally set our cabin on fire.

When the vials were corked and wrapped, I scrubbed the cauldron clean, tied my hair back again, and packed everything into my satchel.

Gran was perusing her spell book on the worn oak table, her gray eyebrows furrowing in concentration. I wrung my hands together, unsure if I should interrupt her or simply leave. She had scolded me for disrupting her studies before.

I frowned as I caught sight of the spell she was looking at: Unbinding a magical totem. Why was she looking at that spell?

As I looked more closely at her, I realized her hand was tucked inside the pocket of her cloak. I caught a flash of something gold. Was she hiding a totem in there?

Gran’s head snapped to me, and I gasped. “Do you need something?” she asked.

I cleared my throat, then pointed to the door. “I was going to sell some herbs and try to get a roast lamb for supper. Do you need anything from the marketplace?”

Gran blinked as if coming out of a daze. “No, no. I don’t need anything.” She paused and cast a warning look my way. “I might not be here when you get back.”

I frowned. “Why not?”

She waved a hand and turned back to her book. “Don’t worry yourself over my affairs, child. I’ll be back by dawn.”

I harrumphed at this, knowing this was one of Gran’s many secrets. She often ventured into the village for her own clients, though she never told me what specific magic she did for them. And, occasionally, she met with other clan-less witches. I asked to join her once, and she sharply reprimanded me for it.

“Remember to stay on the path,” Gran said. It was easy to get lost in the huge forest that surrounded our cabin.

“I will.” I strode for the door, casting another glance at Gran over my shoulder. She was hunched over her book, muttering under her breath.

She often hid things from me. There were many subjects she refused to elaborate on—the witch clan, my mother’s death, and the identity of my father.