Page 89 of Heir

“You’ll want him to take one capsule four times a day. They last roughly five hours, and if you don’t want him to start to go feral again, you’ll want to make sure he stays up on his doses. Nothing fancy about them. Take with water, or not. They should start to work within thirty minutes. It won’t completely stop his . . . um desires, but it will damper them down significantly. You may not need to restrain him, but rather just keep an eye on him. Don’t let him be alone with Omaera.” He said that last part to Zandren.

Zandren nodded. “I try not to anyway. I hate vampires.”

Mr. Fiddleman grunted. “Yes, well, they are an interesting and serious lot, aren’t they?”

“Among other things,” Zandren said mostly under his breath.

“How many pills are here, Mr. Fiddleman?” I asked.

“Enough for two months’ worth, Your Majesty.”

“Omaera,” I insisted. “Please, call me Omaera.”

He stared at me, blinking. “I’ll try.”

“I so appreciate you doing this,” I said, turning my shoulder bag over so that the pouch was right in front of me and I could dig out my wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

The apothecary held up his hand, his gray-blue eyes going wide. “Oh no. I can’t charge the Queen. I . . . I could never.”

Huffing through my nose, I paused. “Mr. Fiddleman . . .”

He chewed on his lip, then sighed. “When I was at Delia’s yesterday, I noticed a small ulu knife in her kitchen. It’s the sharpest I’ve ever seen and in pristine condition. I understand if you say no, but—”

“It’s yours,” I said. “I have no use for it. Please. If that is what you will accept as payment, then by all means, when you return tonight, take the ulu knife. I think she’d be thrilled to know another spellcaster was making use of it.”

He smiled. “Thank you, Your Maj—Omaera.” With his long fingers, he slid the brown glass pill bottle across the worn wooden counter to me. “I’ll be sure to have more ready for you in two months’ time. I have to make small batches as they only have a sixty-day shelf-life.”

“I appreciate it.”

“And I will make sure to let you know what I uncover at Delia’s tonight.”

“Again, I so appreciate it.”

Zandren leaned forward, fixing the old mage with a serious look. “We also appreciate your discretion regarding Omaera’s lineage. At least on her mother’s side.”

Mr. Fiddleman’s eyes widened. “Y-yes. Y-yes, of course. I would n-never breathe a word to anyone. Delia was . . . she meant a great deal to me. I would never do anything to hurt her, or you. Ever. Your secrets are all safe with me.”

Zandren nodded. “Good. Then we have nothing to worry about.”

Mr. Fiddleman’s gaze found mine. “Good luck, Your Maj—Omaera.”

I smiled and winked at him. “Thank you, Mr. Fiddleman. We’ll chat again, soon.” We took a half-step toward the door before I spun around. “There’s no magic spell, or pill, or spray, or something that can mask my . . . other side, is there? My mother’s lineage, I mean?”

It took the old mage a moment to understand what I meant, then his gaze flared before he shook his head and frowned. “Before you . . . took the throne,” he whispered, “Yes. But not now. No magic performed by me would be strong enough to mask the magic of the Fates. I’m sorry.”

I matched his frown. “I had a feeling you were going to say something like that. Thanks anyway.”

We bid him farewell once more, then Zandren and I left with our bottle of pills intended to keep Drak from turning into a horny vampire bat.

Though, if I was being perfectly honest, I was kind of intrigued and turned on by the idea of Mr. Super Serious with a stick up his ass, losing his composure and turning into a rabid beast. A small part of me wanted to poke the monster and see what would happen. But a bigger part of me—the smart part of me, not the horny part—knew I needed to give him a wide berth and stay the course.

I needed to figure out who killed my aunt, kill them, and get a handle on my powers.

Easy peasy.

All while keeping a safe distance from the insufferable, sexy vampire who wanted to devour me like a Sunday dinner.

Again, easy peasy for the Queen of the Realm, right?

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