Page 18 of Kissing Potions and Elves
Unease curls in my chest, and I step closer, confused by the sudden shift in her demeanor. “Isobel?”
She looks at the Fae male. “I’m sure it’s a more than fair price, but I… can’t afford that right now.” Her cheeks burn with humiliation, and her voice drops to nearly a whisper. “I’m so sorry for wasting your time, Cyran.”
My heart squeezes painfully as I glance at the jeweler.
“It’s alright, Isobel.” He smiles, wings wilting slightly. “I don’t normally offer them, but I know you and… we can work out a payment plan if you’d like. I can have the repairs done in a few days and you can simply pay me back when you can.”
As much as I initially disliked him, his kindness seems genuine.
“Thank you, Cyran, but I wouldn’t feel comfortable asking you for something like that.”
“Are you sure?” He gives her a warm smile. “I don’t mind.”
She nods.
“Then, perhaps, Brakkus could help you. It may not be as refined, but he’s a blacksmith and he’s used to working with a variety of metals. He should be able to repair the clasp.”
“Thank you, Cyran.”
I’m not one to normally get involved in the affairs of others, but it’s not as if it’s a great sum of money, and the necklace must be important for her to want to have it fixed.
I linger for a brief second, torn between concern and irritation before I finally step forward. “I’ll pay,” I tell the jeweler as I reach for my coin pouch. “Just fix it.”
“No.” Isobel’s voice rings sharply behind me, her face flushed as she looks at me with wide, anxious eyes. “Lyrion, please. I can’t accept your money either.”
“Why not?”
She swallows hard, gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t know when I could repay you, especially with winter coming. I have to save up for firewood, and supplies, and a new coat.”
“Consider it a gift,” I offer at the same time that Cyran says, “I’ll do it for free.”
“Thank you for your kind offers,” she says, cheeks reddening in embarrassment. “Both of you. But I wouldn’t feel right accepting.”
Cyran and I exchange a look and we nod.
I don’t know how she can remain so bright and cheerful when her life seems to be such a struggle. Memories of her apartment surface as I think of the threadbare blankets and worn furniture—every meager possession carefully preserved and cherished.
She has nothing, yet she always seems to have a smile on her face whenever I see her.
She bites her lip, gaze pleading. “Let’s just go to Brakkus, Lyrion.”
I hesitate, then nod stiffly, emotions coiling uncomfortably inside me.
“I’m sorry,” Isobel says, breaking the strained silence as we walk. “I know this is inconvenient for you. I'm sure you'd rather just get home.” She looks down, twisting her fingers anxiously. “But this locket… it’s the only thing I have left that belonged to my mother. I used to wear it every day because it made me feel close to her, like a part of her was still with me, you know?” She sighs softly. “You probably think that’s silly.”
“No.” My voice emerges gentler than intended, but I don’t regret it. “It’s not silly at all.” Reaching into my pocket, I pause briefly, then pull out the worn silver pocket watch. “This was my grandfather’s. After he passed, my grandmother carried it with her as a way to keep him close. Before she died, she gave it to me. She always said I reminded her of him.”
Isobel studies the watch resting in my palm, something tender flickering across her expression. “It’s beautiful.”
“Yes.” I swallow hard as I carefully slip it back into my pocket. “I think of them often. It’s nice to have something to remember them by.”
She smiles, and my heart lifts inexplicably, warmth spreading through my chest as I walk beside her. I wouldn’t normally feel compelled to share something so personal, but there’s something about her presence that simply puts me at ease.
Up ahead is the clothier’s store. It’s on the way to the blacksmith. My gaze lingers on the frayed hem of Isobel’s cloak, her worn leather shoes, and the way her dress hangs a little too loosely on her frame.
Judging by how she refused the Fae jeweler’s offer to repair her mother’s locket for free, as well as mine to pay for it, I doubt she’ll accept any charity. But I decide to try anyway.
“I’ve been meaning to visit the outfitter.” I gesture to the shop. “You could come along, pick something you like. Perhaps a warmer cloak, sturdier shoes, and—”
