Page 14 of Kissing Potions and Elves
“It’s lovely of you to help someone out,” she remarks sweetly, her tone entirely too innocent. “She’s quite a lovely girl to be honest.”
I eye her warily, recognizing the familiar tactic. Hilda has been with my family since I was a small boy, and she’s developed an uncanny ability to ferret out secrets with nothing more than a gentle smile and a few carefully placed words.
“Isobel will be working as my assistant for a while,” I say calmly, sipping my tea and pretending not to notice the skeptical lift of Hilda’s brow.
“Of course. Only… your family is due for a visit soon. Your mother, especially, might not approve of an unmarried young lady staying here.” She pauses. “Nor, for that matter, would Lady Elyssia.”
I wince inwardly at the mention of Elyssia—my intended. Elegant, poised, utterly proper. Our families arranged our betrothal when we were children. It’s purely platonic and definitely not a love match for either of us, but it is politically advantageous for both our Houses.
My parents have always held firm to tradition, especially regarding arranged marriages. Vaelar forbid they ever let me forget it. My mother wanted us bound over a year ago now, but I asked for a bit more time to finish my project before settling down.
I glance at my notebook. I’m nearly finished with my compendium. A smile tugs at my mouth. I think I’ll title it “An Elvish Guide to Herbology, by Lord Lyrion Thornwylde.”
Thankfully, Elyssia agreed to delay our nuptials. At best, she’s likely to find Isobel’s cheerful chaos entirely baffling. At worst, she’ll see the human as a possible threat to our upcoming bonding.
Hopefully, we’ll have this potion business sorted and the spell broken before my parents or my betrothed find out. My people do not kiss as humans do, but I’d still dislike having to explain to Elyssia exactly what the effects of this potion have entailed.
“This is only a temporary arrangement, Hilda,” I reassure her.
Sighing heavily, I decide to tell her what really happened yesterday evening. After all, if I don’t tell her now, I’m sure she’ll figure it out later. Hilda is an expert at uncovering the truth.
When I’m finished, Hilda’s eyes are wide. “Thank goodness it wasn’t a desire or a lust potion,” she says. “How long do you think it will last if you cannot find the cure?”
Before I can respond, a sudden wave of dizziness crashes over me, fierce and disorienting. My vision blurs and the worldaround me tilts. I clutch desperately at the edge of the table as my heart races in my chest.
“Lyrion!” Hilda cries out, placing the back of her hand against my forehead as if checking me for fever. “Are you ill?”
Something is terribly wrong. Not with me, but deeper, linked to magic itself.Isobel.This isn’t just a simple potion gone awry.
I recall a line from an archaic potion book, something whispered about ancient bonding elixirs.A bond once formed cannot lightly be broken without consequences to the heart and body.At the time, I dismissed it as romantic nonsense. Now, the words pulse through me like a warning.
“Lyrion?” Hilda’s voice floats toward me, thick with concern.
“I need to find Isobel,” I manage weakly, pushing myself up on unsteady legs. “Do you know where she is?”
Even as I ask the question, I remember her telling me she was going to return to her apartment.
“She left.”
Stumbling forward, I nearly knock over my chair as I make my way toward the garden gate. My pulse races frantically, driving me into a run. Each step feels sluggish, my breath ragged, my chest aching with worry as I scan the streets urgently.
Where in the seven hells is she?
Up ahead, I notice Isobel. Worry tightens my chest. She’s sitting on the cobblestone path, her head bowed and her hands pressed to her temples. I sprint toward her, my dizziness fading the closer I get.
“Isobel,” I call out hoarsely, dropping to my knees beside her. “Are you alright?”
Her wide eyes lift to meet mine, confusion clouding their honeyed depths. “Lyrion? What are you doing here?”
“The potion,” I breathe, gripping her gently beneath the elbows and helping her stand. She wobbles, and I instinctivelywrap my hands around her waist, steadying her. Heat floods through me at the feel of her soft curves beneath my palms, my pulse quickening as my gaze involuntarily drops to her lips.
Moon above, I want to kiss her again. Badly.
I shake my head, fighting the spell’s pull. “Are you alright?”
She blinks dazedly, still clutching her head. “I—I don’t know. I suddenly felt dizzy, so I sat down. But why are you here?”
“I believe the potion includes a proximity side effect. We cannot be far from each other.”
