Page 140 of The Black Witch

“Interesting rivalry you two have going,” he says, shooting me a dark look.

I fish the broken portrait pieces from my cloak pocket, walk over to him, the skillet hanging heavily from my other hand, and drop the pieces into his outstretched palm.

He smiles chillingly. “I don’t suppose she’ll laugh this off.”

“No, I’d imagine not,” I reply flatly.

I let out a long breath as he takes his leave, then turn to find Olilly and Yvan staring at me, Olilly terrified and frozen in place, Yvan’s eyes a storm of emotion.

“I left my books here,” I explain weakly, mind spinning with the many ways Fallon will soon be devising to kill me. And still reeling over Yvan’s otherworldly speed.

I awkwardly set the skillet down on a table. The kitchen is now quiet as a tomb, and my gaze is drawn to Olilly’s bloodshot eyes, the telltale spots around the corners of her lips.

The Red Grippe.

I’ve noticed that a few of the kitchen workers have been ill with this for some time. It’s easy, but expensive, to cure. I’ve tried to sneak medicine to them, but none of them have been able to get past their fear of me.

But maybe she’ll take it with Yvan here.

I pause, pull a medicinal vial out of my tunic pocket and hold it out to her. “Olilly, I made this for you.”

Olilly recoils and shakes her head stiffly from side to side. She looks to Yvan, terror stark in her eyes.

Yvan turns his back to me, puts his hand on Olilly’s arm and murmurs something, his words too low to decipher. He’s so gentle with her, his long fingers brushing her hair back so kindly, his voice so deep and resonant as he reassures her. It sets off the usual unsettling, warm thrum deep inside me.

Olilly starts to sob, lifting a slender, shaking hand to wipe at her eyes. She looks up at Yvan imploringly. “He could follow me. What if he follows me?”

“I’ll walk you back,” Yvan assures her, his voice low and soothing. “All right?”

Olilly sniffs back her tears and nods.

“Go on,” he tells her, his voice barely audible. “Gather your things.”

Olilly nods again, some of the tension loosening from her stance. She shoots me another fearful look, then disappears into the back storeroom.

I sigh and glance worriedly toward where Olilly exited. “Maybeyoucan give this to her,” I say, holding the medicine out to Yvan, my emotions pulsing through me in a tangled mess. “She’s much too afraid to take it from me.”

His severe expression doesn’t budge.

“It’sNorfuretincture,” I press. “I’ve seen what she’s taking. You know as well as I do that it won’t cure her.Thiswill.” It’s medicine that works. Expensive Gardnerian medicine. Medicine she’ll never be able to afford.

Yvan stands, blinking at me. But then he walks over and takes it, his warm fingers brushing against my own, sparks lighting on my skin as my pulse quickens. His green eyes lock onto mine as he slides the vial into his pants pocket.

Feeling wildly self-conscious, I go and fish my books out from under a nearby table and straighten to find Yvan still watching me, his brow tensed as if he’s trying to figure something out.

“That was...brave, what you just did,” I tell him awkwardly, clutching at Professor Kristian’s books, hesitant to compliment him.

“You were going to attack a Level Five Gardnerian Mage,” he says, more a statement than a question. “With a skillet.”

I lift my chin defensively. “Why, yes. I was.” Heart thudding, I fight the urge to break eye contact with his intense, unwavering stare.

For a moment it looks as if he wants to say something. Instead he turns and picks up his own books, laid on a shelf with the spice jars.

Olilly emerges from the storeroom, cloaked and with a bag slung over her shoulder. Averting her eyes from me, she hurries out the back door and holds it open for Yvan to follow.

Yvan glances over at her, pausing. He looks back to me, his hard expression now conflicted. “Good night, Elloren,” he says stiffly, but not unpleasantly, before following Olilly out into the night.

His use of my name stuns me into openmouthed silence.

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