Page 21 of Kissing Potions and Elves
“Right.”Errol’s whiskers twitch.“Keep this up, Elf, and you may yet earn my approval to court my mistress.”
“I’m not courting her,”I protest.“It’s merely a kind gesture.”
“Of course,”Errol drawls, his voice dripping with smug disbelief.“And I’m the King of the Fae.”
Ignoring the irritating feline, I hand the baker a few coins and accept the wrapped cake. Turning back to Isobel, I find her watching me, eyes bright and curious, her lips curved into a lovely smile. My heart makes a strange, unfamiliar leap in my chest.
My thoughts drift briefly to that first afternoon at the café, weeks before the potion. I remember clearly watching from my usual corner as Isobel chatted with an elderly woman.
She’d tucked an extra blueberry muffin into the lady’s basket and paid for it out of her own money, giving the old woman a sweet, conspiratorial wink. It was a small kindness, easily overlooked, but I had noticed. Even then, without magic clouding my senses, I’d found her captivating—far more than I’d allowed myself to admit.
As we continue our walk, I pretend not to notice how Isobel keeps stealing delighted glances at the package or how Errol’s smug purring echoes loudly in my mind.
Moon and stars, what have I gotten myself into?
When we return home, Isobel takes the satchel. Carefully, she places Errol onto the polished floor, murmuring softly to the bedraggled creature.
“Stay out of trouble,” she instructs, gently smoothing his fur.
The cat merely stretches languidly, then proceeds to inspect the entry hall like some visiting dignitary.
I bite back a sigh as he enters the kitchen and hops onto the counter as if he owns it, while Isobel pours milk into a porcelain saucer for him to drink.
He laps it up with a contented purr, and then turns to me, his green eyes studying me intently. “This is much better than that attic. Comfortable surroundings. Good milk. You’ve made an excellent choice in adopting us.”
I blink, mildly stunned by the sheer nerve of the animal.“I did not adopt you. This is only temporary. You’re a guest.”
He tilts his head to one side, tail swishing lazily behind him.“We’ll see about that.”He saunters across the counter and surveys the kitchen. “I believe I shall enjoy it here immensely,” he adds, licking a drop of milk from his whiskers.
My lips twitch despite myself. Cheeky little fur ball. “Just don’t break anything, alright?”
He dips his chin.“I’ll try my best, but I make no promises.”
“Lyrion?” Isobel’s curious voice snaps me from my conversation with the cat. “Are you talking with Errol again?”
I nod.
“What’s he saying?”
I clear my throat, straightening to my full height. “Your cat was simply… expressing his gratitude for the accommodations.”
“That’s so amazing that you can talk to animals,” she says, eyes bright with wonder as if I’ve just performed extraordinary magic. “What else did he say?”
I hesitate, suppressing a smile at her delight. “He approves of my home and the quality of the milk. Apparently, he thinks he’ll like it here.”
Isobel laughs.
I catch myself smiling at Isobel’s laughter, marveling at her ability to find joy in something as trivial as a cat’s approval, but I quickly clamp down on the warmth rising within. Lady Elyssia is my intended, the woman I’ve agreed to marry. Isobel is merelya temporary complication. Nothing more. I should not allow myself to get too familiar with her.
“Now, perhaps we should get to work.” I gesture to the hallway. “I’ll show you my workroom. Maybe you’ll be able to recognize the herbs you used.”
Scooping up Errol, she follows me down the hall. When I push open the heavy door to my workspace, she steps inside and immediately freezes, her mouth dropping open.
“Oh.” She stares around her in awe. “You have… everything.”
My workroom has always been my pride and solace, but seeing it through her eyes, I realize for the first time how expansive it truly is. Shelves line every wall from floor to ceiling, packed with meticulously labeled jars, vials, dried herbs, and rare specimens. A large worktable stands at the center, scattered with parchment, quills, and half-written notes.
Her gaze shifts back to me. “What do you do with all of these?”
