Page 34 of The Scent of Intuition
Alfie instantly hated him.
“Are you Collins, the apothecary?”
Alfie eyed the prince’s tapping fingers on the wall, and the prince stopped. Slower than he intended, Alfie walked back around the counter to the spot where he was in charge. From there, he could reach every drawer behind him, easily able to tell what was where without looking. This was his realm of expertise. Where he reigned.
“What do you need?” Alfie tried not to growl, but what else would two wolves do when fighting for… well, they weren’t fighting. The prince had won.
But something in his heart hadn’t given up yet.
“The Countess of Langley tells me that you are well-versed in non-traditional medicine.”
His rolling ‘r’ had the same effect as a wolf’s warning growl, and Alfie crossed his arms.
“Who?”
The prince laughed. “Very good. I like your discretion. But I was there, you know. I saw you at their ball a few days ago, and I’m well aware of the bonds you share.”
Alfie shrugged. Whatever His Highness may or may not know, he wouldn’t confirm.
“You’ve come with a requirement for a salve?”I hope you’re itching and burning. Go sit in some nettles.
“No.”
“Then what can I do for you?” Alfie put his hands on the counter and leaned forward, taking up as much space as possible. He was just as tall as the prince, and as far as Alfie was concerned, a title earned by way of studies was worth as much as one inherited. Whether the prince would live up to his title was yet to be seen.
Except that Alfie hoped that it wasn’t Bea who would be testing the prince’s virtues and merit.
“I need something highly concentrated and undetectable.”
Don’t they all?
Earls who needed salves of a certain slippery nature, dukes with a preference for elixirs to harden the muscles, while others preferred some for relaxation… Alfie’s list was endless and secret.
He could fill volumes with how many times ladies had come for a poison that could solve their marital problems by ending their husbands’ lives. Sometimes, they wanted their husbands to suffer. Other times, they wanted to rid their bodies of the evidence of sidesteps. But Alfie never catered to such requests. He wanted to help heal ailments, practice medicine with honor, and not sell his integrity for charlatanry or the dispensation of justice where it wasn’t his place to serve it.
“No poisons. Sorry! I’m not dealing with this kind of—”
“Not a poison.” The princetsked. “A little something to erase traces of questions I cannot freely ask.” He drew circles in the air as if the effect were self-explanatory. “Violet said you could make anything.”
“A truth serum?” Alfie shook his head.
“A mixture that masks the effects of something nobody knows exists, an untraceable potion?”
“Never.”
The prince dropped his shoulders and looked Alfie in the eyes. “Why not?”
“There’s no such thing as a truth serum. Perhaps if you find a specialist in witchcraft or charlatanerie, they will sell it to you.”
“Then invent one! You’re the best, aren’t you?”
Argh!Alfie hated nothing more than a challenge from the man he wished to surpass.
“Let’s see. If there were such a thing, and I’m not saying there is, there are several problems. First, the dosage is problematic because I cannot give you a medicine for a third person whose weight and physique I don’t know.”
The prince inclined his head. “Fair enough. I can obtain this information for you.”
Alfie narrowed his eyes. “And I don’t make anything that could harm my clients. Or anyone.”
