Finally, the frost ivy parts, and Ghost strides in.
Riven follows close behind, the small pouches attached to his weapons belt hopefully carrying all the ingredients he went out to gather.
“Did you miss me?” he asks lightly, but his eyes are sharp, scanning the cave and zeroing in on Zoey.
Is it just me, or does he look relieved she’s still alive?
Of course he does.
Without her, he loses some of the leverage he has on me.
“Not even a little.” I stand, forcing a calmness into my voice that I definitely don’t feel. “Did you get everything?”
“As promised.” He spreads the materials across the table. “Soulberries, starlight moss, moonlit fern, and twilight thistle. All accounted for.”
The soulberries glisten like glass, the moonlit fern pulses with a gentle glow, and the twilight thistle shimmers like the last moments of sunset. As for the starlight moss, it looks like there are real stars twinkling inside it.
I stare at them in amazement, wanting to touch them, but unwilling to risk doing anything that might mess up the spell.
“Now comes the real test,” he says, motioning for me to join him. “Ready?”
“Tell me what to do.”
“Crush the soulberries into juice, then mix them with water,” he says, picking up a bowl and placing a handful of berries inside.
“How do I crush them?” I ask.
“With passion.” His eyes glimmer with mischief. “Channeling the same amount of passion you had while kissing me should be enough.”
“You’re insufferable.” I glare at him, pick up the pestle, and get to it.
“Not bad,” he says, his gaze locked on my hands as I work the pestle over the berries. “You have good rhythm.”
I narrow my eyes at him, stopping my crushing. “Are you complimenting me, or insinuating something else?”
“Maybe both.” He grins, a glint of silver mischief in his eyes. “Though if you’re this good with berries, I can only imagine how?—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” I cut him off, my cheeks burning. “I swear, Riven. Do you ever just… not?”
“Not what?” he asks, leaning closer. “Fluster you? Annoy you? Make you smile when you’re trying so hard not to?”
“I’m not smiling.” I grip the pestle tighter, trying to ignore the way his words curl around me, stirring something I don’t have the time to deal with.
“You’re definitely smiling.” His voice lowers, teasing but edged with something darker. “And blushing. Though that could be from all the pounding.”
I glance up sharply, glaring. “Do you actually want this potion to turn out right, or is this just an excuse for you to flirt?”
“I’m supervising,” he corrects me, clearly getting a rise out of this. “Making sure you’re thorough.”
“Then supervise from over there,” I motion to a few feet away from me. “After all, you’re nothelpingme bydistractingme.”
He frowns, but does as asked, although his eyes remain fixed on me as I continue to work.
Once the berries are crushed, he has me add a precise amount of water and swirl the mixture until it hums with magic.
“Now, the moss,” he says, handing me a few soft, glowing strands. “Tear it into small pieces and add it slowly.”
I do as he says, my hands trembling slightly.