Page 22 of A Promise of Peridot
Maybe she was right, and the amulet was real. What did Kane know anyway? I had no energy to argue. “Can you still take the time to research your own line of power? Harness your skill without it? Maybe you can learn the craft bit by bit instead of relying so heavily on—”
“Arwen, why would I do things the harder, slower way when I have a direct line to Briar Creighton? Any other witch who had this opportunity would do the same.”
Anxiety bubbled up beneath my skin. The oils and vinegars of our dinner rumbled in my stomach and I shifted against the chair beneath me. “Witchcraft isn’t meant to be simple. You’re supposed to learn, and make mistakes. It’s necessary. It’s natural. It’s...”
“I think that’s what people who make a lot of mistakes tell themselves,” Mari said distractedly, sponging up some seafood remnants on her plate with the last few bites of oily bread. “Now, why haven’t you told me about this prince yet?” She lowered one brow at me with impish delight.
“How do you know about that?”
“I just heard some palace gossip that you two had amoment.”
Leave it to Mari to be in Azurine for less than a day and already have more inside information than the city’s actual residents.
The wine was zingy and sharp on my tongue as I downed my glass and tried to remember what Mari had asked me. “There’s nothing to tell. I ran into him on my run. He’s very pretty.”
“Are you blushing?!”
“I don’t think so.” It was the wine that was coursing in my veins and reddening my cheeks. “What even counts as amoment?”
“A charged tension between you. A zap of energy when you touch.”
It only made me think of Kane, and I raised my wineglass before realizing it was empty and setting it back down. “What about you?” I asked. “You know Griffin stares at you every time you’re within ten feet of him?”
“Yeah.” She snorted, tossing her hair behind her shoulder. “He’s so sensitive and romantic, that one.”
“Fair enough,” I said, harsher than I intended. “They’re all bastards, aren’t they?”
Mari noticed my change in mood and took a big gulp of her wine before trying and failing to flag down the harried restaurant owner for more. “Don’t let one liar stop you from trusting men altogether.”
Watching the man dash back into the restaurant’s kitchen, Mari huffed and uttered a low hum. She focused her gaze on the cup until it filled nearly to the brim with orange wine.
“Mari,” I whispered, leaning closer. “Isn’t that stealing?” I looked around. The pilfered spirit had to have come from somewhere. Sure enough, the glasses of one glitzy, distracted table to our left drained as ours refilled while they sat, engrossed in their friends’ storytelling.
“It’s fine,” she assured me, taking a deep swallow. “They didn’t even notice.”
The spirit swishing on my tongue was enough to replace my ethical concerns with gratitude.
“So you say Kane’s a liar, but you make sobering potions for him and drink until the wee hours with him and his friends?”
Mari cringed. “We all grew closer on the journey. But I will gladly never talk to him again if you’d prefer.”
“I’d never ask that of you. I want you to have other friends when I’m...” I had to stop doing that. I could hear how depressing I was to be around.
“Hey,” Mari said, stern. “Whatever happens. Nobody could replace you.”
I blinked against the burning behind my eyes.
“And you can’t think that way.” She tutted.
“Why not? It’s the truth, isn’t it?”
“It’s not over until it’s over. Aren’t you supposed to be the positive one?”
I laughed—a bitter, tipsy snort. “I can’t fight it, so why try? That isn’t positive enough for you?”
Mari shook her head, not quite as amused. It almost seemed as if my words had offended her. “How can you say that? You don’t have to be so compliant. It’s a really awful thing that you’ve learned.”
I sighed. “It is what it is.”
