Page 69 of Kissing Potions and Elves
“Yes. You even brought me a blueberry scone because you said that dessert always seems to make everything better.”
“It’s true. I… can’t believe you remember that day.”
“Your kindness is the reason I kept coming back.”
I’m stunned. “I didn’t think you even knew who I was,” I admit. “I mean, I didn’t think you even noticed me, before the potion incident, that is.”
A soft huff of laughter escapes him. “Your smile and your laughter are very hard to miss, Isobel.”
“Are you saying I’m loud?” I ask, mildly offended.
“No. I’m saying that even when I had the most terrible headache, seeing you smile or hearing you laugh somehow always made me feel a bit better.” He sighs. “And even when I was trying to focus on my work, I noticed everything about you.”
My heart flutters. Perhaps Lyrion truly likes me for me and it’s not just the potion affecting him.
Nyxus emerges from the water, and I sag in relief, my arms still wrapped around Lyrion.
“We’re across.” His lips brush against my temple in a tender kiss. “Safe and sound.”
Warmth fills me. “Thank you.”
“Only a few more hours and we should be there,” Rhystan says, interrupting the moment.
Carefully, I unwind myself from around Lyrion and he helps me turn back to the front. As we resume our journey, my heart is still hammering, but now for an entirely different reason.
Stars help me, but I’m falling deeply, utterly in love with this Elf, and I don’t think there’s any turning back.
CHAPTER 34
ISOBEL
The High Elf Kingdom of Rivenyl is beautiful. The trees are covered in glowing purple, heart-shaped leaves and the ground is a blanket of thick grass with delicate, glowing white flowers.
Lyrion points out a manor in the distance. “That’s where we’ll be staying.”
The manor sits atop a hill, overlooking the forest below. It’s magnificent, like something straight out of a fairy tale. Carved moonstone pillars, wrapped in silver ivy, glitter beneath floating lanterns that bob like enchanted stars. They cast golden light along the main path as we make our way toward the entrance.
Gold and silver lights dance through the dense foliage. “What are those?”
“Night Pixies,” Lyrion explains. “Don’t worry, they shouldn’t bother us.”
“I’ve heard of Pixies.” I smile, mesmerized as they flit back and forth. “I’d love to see one up close.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” Rhystan interjects. “They’re quite mischievous little things and they have tiny, razor-sharp fangs that sting like the devil if they decide to bite.”
“They bite?” My voice comes out as a squeak.
Rhystan nods. “Don’t worry, Isobel. A Pixie’s bite isn’t that bad.” He shrugs. “There are far worse things.”
There are?Terror fills me, and I instinctively lean back against Lyrion. “Is there”—I swallow hard—“anything else here that’s dangerous that I should know about?”
“No,” Lyrion says at the same time that Rhystan replies, “Too many things to mention right now.”
My jaw drops, and I turn back to Lyrion. “Which of you is telling the truth?”
He darts a pointed look at Rhystan that tells me all I need to know before he turns his attention back to me. “I won’t let anything bother you, Isobel.” He lifts one hand. Sparks of magic crackle across his fingers like tiny bits of lightning. “Night Pixies and… other creaturesshouldknow better than to cross an Elf.”
My mind snags on the “should” and “other creatures” words in that sentence, but I force myself to push down my fears as I focus on his hand. “Why don’t you ever use magic back home?”
