Page 2 of Potions & Prejudice
“That’s not a word,” Prue shouted.
“Why is everyone always attacking me?” Mama wailed, her plump cheeks like two red apples.
“No one is attacking anybody.” I put out both hands. “I just think we could focus on other potions, ones that actually help people. That aren’t... dishonest.”
I glanced at the cauldron situated toward the front of the cart, filled with a bubbling blue liquid, a new potion Mama was making that I’d suggested. One that could heal itching from fairy mites, vicious little bugs that infested wood—and liked blood. They emerged at night andfeasted on sleeping witches, who then woke up covered in the tiny glittering bites.
I’d have to test the potion before we could sell it, which I intended to do later.
“Well, Elspeth, if you made any of these potions, maybe you’d have more say in them.”
I winced at the jab.
“Besides, we are not being dishonest.” Mama put a hand to her chest. “We are harbingers of hope. Hope that these poor, unfortunate souls may finally get the love they’re so willing to give.”
“Because that’s what everyone needs to be happy?” Prue said, still somewhere behind the cart, presumably reading.
“You could do with a nice witch,” Mama shot back. “Get you away from those books you’ve constantly got your nose stuck in.”
“If any real men were as good as the ones in my books, maybe I’d be more interested,” Prue yelled.
“She’s only twenty.” I peered at the liquid, fat bubbles skimming the surface of the cauldron. “She has time.”
Mama looked up toward the sky. “What did I do to deserve this? Four beautiful daughters. Not one of them married. None of them with any interest in finding love.”
“Sorry to be such a disappointment.” I grabbed my wand off the shelf and stirred the cauldron. The potion would be finished soon.
She leveled me with a stare. “Now you know why I care so much about my girls getting married.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Your magic depends on it.”
“I know,” I said softly, the fight draining out of me. “I’m sure one of us will have some luck soon.”
Mama gazed out at the winding dirt road, fields on either side, and mountains in the distance. “It’s hard when we’re always traveling. You know, it would be so much easier if we found a place to settle down?—”
“You know why that’s not possible.” I stopped stirring and pointed the wand at her. “Mama, I’m doing my best to keep us all safe, and moving from place to place is the most sensible way to do that. We’ve talked about this.”
“Or, rather, you’ve talked about it and decided for us,” Prue shouted.
I looked toward the back of the cart with an irritated glance, even if my youngest sister couldn’t see me. The only reason Prue wanted to stay in one spot was for the local bookstores and libraries—and so she could have a bookshelf to store her books, something we didn’t have room for in our tiny traveling apothecary shop.
Mama sniffed but didn’t respond. “It looks like a slow day,” she finally said. “You can start setting up camp, and I’ll handle the shop.”
Guilt swarmed me, and I wondered for the millionth time if I was doing the right thing by my family. My sisters and mama all wanted a home to call our own, friends, marriage. But with that came risks, ones we couldn’t afford. I seemed to be the only one who ever remembered that, so I always had to be the bad guy, even to my own mama, who pouted like a child far too often.
I stared at my black wand, the handle engraved with intricate swirls. If only I could actually use it, make my own potions, do magic of any kind. Then we wouldn’t be in this mess. Every day this wand was a reminder of all the things I couldn’t do. My sisters and I all had wands. It would be noticeable if we didn’t, would raise suspicions. Something we couldn’t afford unless we wanted to lose everything.
“Oh, finally, your sisters are back.” I didn’t bother looking up until Mama gasped. “And they brought a gentleman with them.” Glee filled her voice.
My head shot up as Auggie and Adelaide walked toward us, Auggie hanging on to the arm of a tall, muscled man with his black hair tied back into a ponytail, his skin a warm brown. Tendrils of curls hung around the sides of his face. He was huge, built like a mountain.
There was only one species who grew that big—werewolves. I wondered what he was doing in the Witchlands.
Auggie was gazing at him, but the man kept sneaking glances at Adelaide. My eldest sister walked next to them, carrying a sack of what I assumed was ingredients for our lunch, plus a few things for some new potions. Auggie giggled at something the werewolf said, flipping her brown waves over her shoulder and batting her eyes at him.
Mama squealed in delight, pushing past me and toward the back door. She threw it open and ran to greet them. “Well, what do we have here?” she asked as my oldest sister continued toward the cart.
“Who is that?” I whispered to Adelaide when she approached.
She pursed her pink lips. Even when she frowned, she was impossibly beautiful. Her blonde hair was tied back in a simple ponytail, and her light blue dress complemented her pale peach tones. “Oh, you know Auggie,” she said. “Latches on to anyone who will give her attention. His name is Elm Kingsley.”
