Chapter Twenty-Three
My jubilant mood continued into the next morning. I woke up after a deep, peaceful sleep and stretched languidly in my bed, morning sun streaming in through the window.
I had no idea what month we were in anymore, but it felt like summer was starting to wind down. Wispy clouds streaked the sky most days now, and the nights were chillier when I was sitting outside with the wolf.
After lounging in bed for a few more minutes, enjoying the feel of the freshly washed sheets against my skin, I got up and dressed. Remembering my discarded bag of shopping outside the front door, I went to get it. I’d been too tired to gather everything up and drag the bag inside last night when I’d eventually stumbled to bed after spending some time with the wolf.
Opening the door, I stopped and frowned. Everything had tumbled out when I’d dropped it last night, but now it was neatly resting beside the door, all my purchases tucked back inside, and the cloth handles tied in a loose knot to keep the contents secure.
Glancing round warily, I grabbed it and headed back inside. Setting the bag on the kitchen table, I untied the knot and peered in, a part of me suspicious that one of the Folk had seen it out there and put something disgusting inside to fuck with me.
I could see the soap and oil I’d bought. The little glass pot of ink with its waxy stopper. Five of the big oranges that I liked, because they were one of the least sweet of the fruits I could get, and the summer squash.
I moved aside the big bunch of dark, leafy spinach tied with string and froze when the rich scent of coffee beans drifted up. At the bottom of the bag was one of the fat canvas sacks I’d eyed longingly in the café window. I lifted it up, feeling the beans moving beneath my fingers.
My throat tightened as I stared at the bag, feeling pathetically moved. This had been Lonan. I just knew it had, even though Caom could have easily done the same thing. Lonan had heard me ask Caom to buy them for me, because he’d appeared just seconds after. He’d probably seen the café owner spit at me that time and worked out that I didn’t want to go in there.
Biting my lip, I reverently set the bag back down and went to retrieve my dagger from under the mattress. After carefully slicing open the top of the sack, I lifted it to my nose and breathed deep.
Carrying a handful of the little dark beans to the sideboard, I ground them finely with my pestle and mortar. Then I lit the kitchen hearth and poured some water into the cauldron. While it came to the boil, I found a roll of tightly woven muslin cloth in the sideboard and cut off a wide, neat square with my dagger.
My mouth watered when I carefully poured hot water over the grounds nestled in the cloth, grinning when dark liquid dripped through and into the mug below. It was probably sad how happy this made me, but it brought back memories of being home from uni and waking up to have coffee with dad in the garden. Even in the dead of winter, we’d bundled up and sat out there to drink it before starting the day.
I closed my eyes when I took my first sip. It was bitter and dark, and the farthest thing from sweet that anything could be.
I didn’t bother buying milk anymore, because I realised after the first few times that the fae selling it to me was somehow making it go sour by the time I got it home. But I didn’t miss it. I drank the coffee greedily, then made myself a second cup before gathering up the ingredients for my potion.
It was going to work. I knew it was. Fuelled by caffeine and the bone-tingling memories of the night before with Lonan, I measured out my ingredients and added them to the water already in the cauldron.
I smiled when I heard a low mewl, glancing back to see the cat slinking in through the open window. He hopped down and trotted over, winding between my legs and purring loudly.
“Hi, baby.” I knelt down, smiling when the cat rested his paws on my knees and stretched up to butt against my chin.
I kissed the top of his head and stood back up.
“I’m trying the potion today,” I told him, carefully stirring the mixture with a long wooden spoon. “Do you think it’ll work?”
The catmrowed as if in answer, rubbing against my leg and trotting after me when I crossed the room to the book on the table.
“So I have to bring it to a boil then take it off the heat and let it cool, then strain it.” I looked down at the cat as he hopped up onto the table. “You know, making potions is a lot less dramatic than I thought it’d be.”
I chuckled. “When I was little and pretended to make potions, I’d always make up spells to say for them. But I suppose that’s witches, not the Folk, right?”
Giving the cat a brief stroke under his chin, I went back to the cauldron and peered in. It looked dark and murky, but I had no idea if that was a good thing or not. A deep, earthy smell rose up with the steam as it slowly started simmering at the edges—like rotting leaves and wet dirt. I breathed it in, something about it soothing me.
When it came to the boil, I carefully heaved the cauldron off the fire and onto the stone floor by the pantry, where it was cooler.
While it cooled, I tidied up the cottage and did my laundry, scrubbing down my clothes outside before hanging them up over a long wooden rail that swung out from where it was affixed to the back of the cottage. I had no idea if that was what its intended purpose was, but that was what I’d always used it for.
I made some lunch and ate it in the living room, my cock twitching when I sat down on the sofa and remembered what had happened in this very spot the night before. Lonan had said he wouldn’t stay away again this time. But would he actually come back? Would he come back tonight? What if he was regretting it now—regretting touching the mortal again. Regretting the fact that he’d let me make him come, that he’d let himself be that vulnerable with me.
I huffed and rubbed my face as I got up and went into the kitchen, trying to distract myself. I held my hand over the cauldron, but it was still warm in there. My stomach was jittery with nervous excitement. I wanted this to work. Not just so my plants grew quicker, but so I knew that Icould. If I could make this one work, I could make others work.
I didn’t want to make any of the deadly potions in theNovice Drachmsmithbook, but having the knowledge that Icouldwould help me feel just a bit safer here. A bit more in control.
It was afternoon by the time the potion had finally cooled completely. After dipping my finger in to make sure, I grabbed the bucket and a strip of muslin cloth. I carefully ladled out the mixture, letting each spoonful strain through the cloth and scooping away the leftover ingredients.
The liquid was a dark, earthy green, and its fragrance had lessened just a little now that it was no longer steaming hot.