Page 13 of When Wishes Bleed

Strong hands pushed back the hood, and with a start, I realized it was the handsome man from earlier. Looking into a pair of bloodshot, golden eyes that tried vainly to focus on mine, I noticed details I’d missed earlier. His dark brown hair was freshly cut; the hair at the nape of his neck hadn’t even begun to grow back out. His shoulders were broad, and the cloak concealing them was made of thick, black material. In golden thread, a symbol was emblazoned over his heart, but it was wrinkled and I couldn’t make it out.

“I’m not going nowhere,” he slurred.

I crossed my arms and raised my brows. “You want a reading?”

“Reading? I don’t see any books,” he chuckled.

“I read fates.”

“Futures?” He laughed and pointed a finger at me. “You’re a witch.”

“And you’re obviously a genius.” A drunken genius, with pretty, molten eyes.

“You’re supposed to make love potions and hex dolls,” he slurred. “Not hang people.”

“Do you need a love potion? You’re handsome enough to find someone on your own, I’d warrant,” I said truthfully. He rewarded the compliment with a ridiculously wide smile that made my lips curl upward in response. “I didn’t expect anyone to be brave enough to approach my table tonight,” I told him. “And people rarely surprise me.”

He grinned proudly and put his hand across his chest—the salute of the Kingdom’s militia. He must be a soldier. “Glad to be of service, Madame. Perhaps I should offer you a reading, instead.”

He was ridiculous and…sweet.

“Look, I can help you. Do you think you can climb steps? I have something that will help clear your mind, but you’ll have to sit down for a few minutes after drinking it.”

He scrutinized the stairs leading to my front door, and with a determined look, squared his shoulders and nodded his head. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

Um, good. They’re just steps.

I blew out my candle and gathered everything into my casting cloth, deciding I’d sort it all out later. It was clear that Fate had damaged any opportunity I might have had to make money tonight, not that I minded, in all honesty. Killing Jenson Renk was worth it. I wondered if it would feel the same in a month’s time when I had no savings to provide what I couldn’t, and the other Houses wouldn’t.

Still, this young man obviously came from money. Perhaps he would feel grateful after the tincture I was about to prepare worked its magic.

I offered a hand in case he fell, but he made it up the staircase and stepped over the threshold and into my house. As far as I knew, he was the first outsider to ever step foot inside its walls.

I laid my things on a chair and pointed him in the direction of the couch while I went to rummage through the kitchen for the ingredients I needed. Brecan had left most of my herbs in a sack on the counter. Quickly plucking leaves from those I needed, I folded them neatly into a tea bag and grabbed a mug. I muttered a spell for it to fill with water, and for the water to heat but not boil. I was in a hurry. Something told me to help him and get him out of there as quickly as I could.

For this reason, I was thankful when the aromas of sage, rosemary, lavender, and mint filled the air.

As I walked toward the couch with the mug, the young man sat up clumsily, removing his feet from the oblong table in front of him, sheepishly apologizing and putting them back on the floor. He scrubbed a hand down his face as I handed him the mug.

“Drink. This should make you feel better.”

He glanced from the steaming liquid to me and back. “How do I know it’s safe?”

I smiled. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You killed that young man tonight,” he answered quietly.

My lungs expanded with a deep breath. Something about the way he said it made me wish I had somehow held Fate off until after the festivities, just so he wouldn’t see the type of magic in which I was adept.

“That man was a murderer.” Steam from the cup wafted into his face and I saw his eyes begin to clear. Changing the subject, I asked, “You were with two others. Where are they?”

“We got separated. I don’t know where they are.”

“I have no intention of harming you,” I told him honestly. “The tea will do nothing more than sober you up. Then you can go find your friends.”

His fingers tightened on the mug’s handle. “I hope I’m not making a mistake by trusting you.” He brought the mug to his lips and took a tentative sip. His dark brows shot up. “This... this is delicious.”

I tried to smile. “Glad you like it.”

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