Page 69 of Potions & Prejudice
The market bustled with Thistlegrove residents as Mama, Adelaide, and I set up our stand.
Mama stood in front of her cauldron as Adelaide dropped dried rice, a whole chicken, thyme, rosemary, and carrots into the cast-iron pot.
Prue had managed to find a spell book for gardening in the little library in our cottage. Mama cast the spell, and now we had a garden full of tomatoes, peppers, squash, pumpkin, peas, carrots, and so many different herbs. That had cut down our spending, so now we only had to buy meat and a few other ingredients for soup recipes. Adelaide created all the recipes, which were brilliant. I’d always known my sister was a good cook, but this soup stand was really allowing her to shine.
Adelaide frowned into the cauldron.
“What’s wrong?” I asked as I cut the bread she’d baked that morning into slices. She’d made a parmesan focaccia to go with the soup, and the salty scent of cheese made my stomach rumble.
“Something’s missing.”
“You tested this soup at least three times at home,” Mama said. “It tasted delicious, Adelaide.”
She shook her head. “No, something is missing. It needs an extra oomph.”
Mama looked up and down the market road as more and more people arrived to shop. “Well, you better hurry. I need to get the spell started.”
Adelaide chewed at her bottom lip, then fished into her apron and pulled out the parchment where she’d written the recipe. “Onion and garlic!” she exclaimed and bent down to grab both from our basket of veggies.
“That’s it?” I wrinkled my nose. “That’s so basic.”
Mama pointed her wand at the onion and garlic, saying a spell that instantly peeled both. She kept speaking Ethorial, and a knife lifted, chopping the onion and garlic on a small wooden board.
Once the knife finished, Adelaide scooped up both and dropped them into the cauldron. “Sometimes it’s the simplest ingredients that make the biggest difference. Both add a subtle but important flavor to the soup.” She looked at Mama. “It’s ready.”
Mama huffed and pointed her wand at the cauldron and said the spell she’d created to meld the flavors and dissipate the bones and gristle. Golden magic glowed from inside the cauldron, brighter and brighter. All at once, the glow disappeared, and in its place was a bubbling pot of soup, ready to serve—as if it had been simmering for hours.
My stomach grumbled again. “That smells so good. Adelaide, you’re a genius.”
Her cheeks turned pink.
“Well, I’m just glad you’re feeling better.” Mama pinched her cheeks. “I was so worried about you two. First, you get sick, then Elspeth disappears and doesn’t return home.” She put her hand to her chest. “I was a wreck. The things you girls put me through.” She tsked.
Adelaide shot me a cheeky grin, and I looked away, cheeks heating. I hadn’t seen Draven since that night on the couch. I still couldn’t believe we’d done that. I’d done that. With him of all people. I was so confused right now, my emotions a mess, and I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. If I told my sisters or Mama, they’d make a huge deal out of it. They’d make it into more than it was. Plus, I didn’t want to ruin whatever was happening between Adelaide and Elm. They were growing closer and closer, and Adelaide was the happiest I’d ever seen her. She was makingsome of her best recipes. She was thriving. I couldn’t ruin that with my drama.
I could still feel his hand between my legs, a throbbing ache growing there.
“Are you alright?” Adelaide’s blue eyes crinkled. “You’re looking a little flushed.”
Mama gasped so dramatically it made me jump. “Are you getting sick?” She stepped back. “You keep your distance, missy. I don’t want any part of whatever Adelaide had.”
I sighed. “I’m not getting sick, Mama. I’m fine.”
Old man Veldar stalked up to our stand, his usual scowl on his face.
“What’ll it be today, Veldar?” I smiled sweetly at him.
His scowl deepened, his bushy eyebrows especially wild, the hair sticking out in all directions. “Your soup burnt my mouth yesterday!” He jabbed a finger at me.
“So one bowl?” I asked, nodding at Mama, who started ladling the soup into a bowl.
We’d learned Veldar complained about everything all the time. But I had a theory. I was almost certain the more the old man complained, the more it meant he liked something.
He shoved his hand into his pocket, then slammed three gold coins on the table. “If it burns my mouth again, I’m filing an official complaint!”
“That’s fair,” Adelaide said, placing a nice thick slice of bread on top of his soup bowl.
He grabbed the bowl, then stomped around our stand into the field behind us, where a long table sat with a bench on either side of it. It was big enough for ten people, at least.
