Page 70 of Kissing Potions and Elves
“Oakvale has more humans than Elves.” He shrugs. “And humans tend to get a bit nervous around magic. So I try to remember not to use it while I’m there.”
We grab our packs and dismount from the Wolves. Lyrion whispers something to Nyxus, patting his neck affectionately before the Dire Wolf runs off toward the forest.
“Where are they going?”
Lyrion watches as Nyxus and Asher disappear into the woods. “They prefer to hunt and stay in the wilds while we’re here.”
“Don’t worry,” Rhystan adds. “They’ll remain nearby and we can easily call them back when it’s time to leave.”
I wasn’t quite worried about that. My gaze darts again to the Night Pixies. I’m more concerned for their safety regarding the “other creatures” Rhystan mentioned that they might run into while in the woods. “You’re sure they’ll be okay?”
Lyrion nods.
“There are very few things in the forest that are larger or scarier than a Dire Wolf,” Rhystan adds. “They should be fine.”
Again… Rhystan’s words, although I’m sure are meant to be reassuring, are anything but.
Lyrion rests his hand against the small of my back as he walks beside me, guiding me toward the manor. I lean into his touch and do my best to appear confident.
From what Rhystan told me earlier, I’ll probably be one of the only humans here, besides the servants that is.
A uniformed attendant greets us at the ornate entrance. His eyes drift politely over Rhystan and Lyrion, but when they land on me, his delicate brow arches subtly, expression carefully blank but carrying the weight of quiet judgment.
I tip up my chin, forcing myself to stand tall despite the urgent desire to hide behind Lyrion.
“Lord Rhystan Thornwylde.” Rhystan gestures to himself before pointing to me and Lyrion. “And this is Lord Lyrion Thornwylde, and Lady Isobel Bramble.” He flashes one of his charming smiles. “We’ve had a long journey. If you could please show us to our rooms, we’d be very grateful.”
The servant bows and then leads us up a sweeping staircase lined with glistening white stone and draped in velvet runners. Rich tapestries decorate the walls, with scenes of Elven battles and enchanted forests woven into the vibrant threads.
My pulse quickens as we reach our assigned room—or rather, rooms. The attendant opens the grand double doors, revealing a luxurious suite complete with two plush beds covered in rich, embroidered blankets. A separate room sits off to the side,furnished with a blue velvet sofa and a fireplace that crackles invitingly.
“We’ll, of course, be needing a third bed to be placed in the sitting room, for Lady Bramble,” Rhystan says smoothly.
The servant’s gaze flicks briefly to me again, lingering just long enough to convey his silent disapproval before he dips his chin in a nod. “Of course, my Lord. We’ll have it brought up shortly.”
My stomach knots anxiously, embarrassment rising, but Rhystan simply grins, entirely unbothered. “Excellent,” he announces brightly. “More than enough room for all of us.”
The servant bows stiffly, departing in silence. Rhystan turns to me, eyes sparkling. “See? Nothing to worry about.”
“LadyIsobel Bramble?Really?” I give him a pointed look. “I’mnota member of the nobility, Rhystan.”
“Would you have preferred ‘Research Assistant to Lord Lyrion Thornwylde?’” He crosses his arms. “Because I personally think that would have only led to more gossip and questions.”
I bite back the retort that sits on the tips of my tongue. He’s right. Although it’s a lie, it is much simpler.
But still, I’m a bit nervous. If theservantwas looking at me like that, what is everyone else going to think?
“We should get ready,” Rhystan says.
The brothers go into the bedroom to change, leaving me in the sitting room. When I slip into the dress Lyrion had made for me, I catch a glimpse of myself in the gilded mirror and gasp.
The pale blue silken fabric drapes gracefully over my body, shimmering like moonlight on water. A faint smile tugs at my lips as I gaze at my reflection. I look like a princess—like someone who truly belongs at a grand ball.
Lyrion enters the room and then stops in his tracks. His violet eyes widen, and his lips part as his gaze travels over me.
“Is something wrong?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious.
“You—” He clears his throat. “You look radiant, Isobel.”
