Page 43 of Kissing Potions and Elves
Errol purrs smugly, curling his tail neatly around his paws, pleased with himself.
Lyrion shakes his head with a resigned sigh, nudging me. “Now, let’s try again.”
He directs me to write out more of the letters. As I do, the symbols slowly start to lose their terrifying strangeness, each one gently coaxed into familiarity by Lyrion’s guidance.
His patience is infinite, his voice never wavering from gentle encouragement, even as I stumble through my lesson.
When I’m finished, I glance down at my squiggly letters compared to the elegant lines of Lyrion’s handwriting and wince. “My letters look so messy compared to yours.”
“It will improve with practice,” he assures me. “My handwriting was atrocious when I first started.”
I’m surprised. “Really?”
“Truly.” He arches a brow. “My old tutor was so strict, he would make me rewrite letters and sometimes even whole words a hundred times over until he deemed them acceptable.”
My jaw drops. “A hundred times?”
“At least,” Lyrion confirms with a faint grimace. “You can imagine how fast I learned to improve. You’re already far ahead of where I was when I first started.” His expression softens. “I imagine you’ll pick all of this up in no time.”
Encouraged by his praise, I trace the next letter with painstaking care. When I lift the quill away, I blink in surprise. The lines are smooth, clean—almost elegant, even.
“Oh.” I smile. “Look, it’s actually—”
“Perfect,” Lyrion murmurs, pride glowing in his violet eyes. “I told you it wouldn’t take long.”
I glance up at him, a smile curving my lips at his quiet praise.
Without seeming to think, he leans forward and presses a gentle, absent kiss to my temple.
My breath catches, warmth radiating from the spot where his lips touched my skin. Bittersweet longing fills me. He kissed me as though it’s the most natural thing in the world… as if we’re in a real relationship.
How in the world am I supposed to guard my heart when I’m not sure if it’s simply the kissing potion making him behave this way, or if these gestures are genuine?
He turns back to the book in front of us. “Now, try this next line,” he directs, entirely unaware of the effect he’s had on me.
I stare down at the parchment, pulse pounding in my ears, my heart utterly and completely lost to this proud, brilliant Elf who’s managed to capture my heart without even trying.
And stars above, I don’t want to be found.
CHAPTER 22
ISOBEL
It’s strange to think that it’s only been a few weeks since our potion mishap. As I serve a nearby table, I sneak another glance at Lyrion. He’s sitting in his usual spot by the window, bent over his notebook, his dark hair falling across his forehead as he scribbles away.
My pulse quickens, warmth flooding my cheeks as I watch him discreetly. He’s so intense and focused, and stars above, I could watch him all day.
A gentle hand lands on my shoulder, startling me from my reverie. “Isobel?”
I spin around, and see Tressa. “Sorry,” I mumble, smoothing down my apron. “I was just—”
“I know exactly what you were doing,” she teases. Her gaze flicks knowingly toward Lyrion and back, a smile tugging at her lips. “I have to step out for a bit, maybe an hour. Do you think you can handle things here on your own?”
I glance around the quiet café, only a few patrons scattered about. “Of course,” I say confidently. “It’s slow right now, anyway.”
“I’ll be quick.” Tressa grins. “Thank you.”
Less than ten minutes after she leaves, the café begins to get busy. It’s as if half the village has simultaneously decided to descend upon the place. Patrons fill every available seat, and I rush frantically between tables, serving tea and pastries.
