Page 11 of Bound By Blood
“Doesn’t matter. But speaking of magic, I need you to treat the windowsills. They aren’t properly warded, and that needs to be fixed immediately.”
“Aren’t they?” He scratched the top of his head, tousling his sandy-brown hair. “Huh. Could have sworn I did.”
“I can assure you that you didn’t, so please make sure that is dealt with. Before tonight.”
She needed to be ready for Ryul to return before sunrise to get his soup. Was that how it was going to be? She hadn't worked out the details with him about how he would get the soup or a delivery method, and she wasn't certain where he was staying actually.
“Before tonight? Why? There aren’t any blood fae or lich or anything else like that out this way.”
She frowned. Odd that he didn’t know about Ryul. Povro tended to know about most things. Maybe Ryul was keeping things quiet. It didn’t feel right to mention his presence, and it really didn’t matter. The windowsills needed to be treated regardless.
“I don’t like being vulnerable, and if something goes wrong, it isn't as if they would leave calling cards before attacking. Will you take care of it, please?”
“Sure. No need to concern yourself with it at all. I’ll get Traelan to his lodgings, and then I'll pick up the herbs and dye. So before dinner.” He winked at her as he stepped back. “No need to be concerned at all.”
People like Povro never seemed to worry too much, but that wasn’t her.
She lifted her hand to wave farewell as he left as she took one more glance at the red-cloaked stranger. That was someone to keep an eye on.
He, too, glanced around, though, and when he caught her looking at him, he tapped his fingers to his hat and grinned. She simply waved in response. He reminded her of the kind of man she'd fallen for in her travels. Easy with the words and quick with the smiles but hard on the feelings.
Her body tensed, and she closed her eyes, trying to push those memories away. She'd been an idiot far too many times in her past.
A rap at the door broke her contemplation. Lanna Whiteclaw fluttered her fire-scarred fingers. “Vegetable soup ready?”
“For you, always.” She brought her smile back and stepped behind the counter to pick up a smaller wooden container filled with vegetable soup.
Lanna gave her the old container along with the coin.
By mid-afternoon, everyone had come through. She refilled the water jugs and the pots for the next day's broth as well as that night's soup. Too dangerous to do that after dark, even without a blood fae coming. Then she slipped in to take care of Buttons, scratching under his chin and refilling his water bowl. No one needed to know about him. Eventually, she'd have to figure out a way to explain this little fella. Maybe just that she had found him. She was right beside the Barrens Wild, after all.
Yes. That would work, wouldn't it?
Though maybe not with Traelan. If her gut was right, he was someone who would be hard to fool.
Just to be safe, she waited until after Povro came and treated the windowsills. Then she took Buttons out for a run and some play. After he'd wearied himself, she returned indoors, pulled down the dusty old books, and sat down with the little dog.
Buttons curled up in her lap as she read, behaving far more like a cat than a dog. She didn't mind, even with the humidity and warmth in the house. He rolled onto his back so she could scratch his patchy black tummy and rub the scales along his sides.
Despite the fact that an annoyed blood fae was going to come visit her soon, she didn't feel so bad. Life was much better with a dog. This had been a good decision. A good trade. And she would find the answer to restoring his magic. Even if he didn't expect all that much of her.
She pored over the cookbooks. There were so many theories of magic and replenishing, but none were more than passing references and general concepts aside from an overall belief that, for those who generated magic, it was simple enough to replenish with the right ingredients. Not that any of them said what specific ingredients aside from "all magic types and subtypes respond best to particular sets" and "rosemary and garlic are standard in most."
Well, those she did have. Who knew what exactly they did for magic though? Probably nothing bad, considering all the soup she had made for all kinds of fae over the years.
Standing, she crossed over to the slab counter and laid out all the books. The remnants of the soup and broth still simmered. She needed to get started on preparations for tomorrow and prepare a new pot of soup for Ryul.
Resting her hands on the top of her head, she sighed. Maybe just starting with something basic would be wise. Garlic chicken and rosemary with root vegetables. If he arrived an hour or so before dawn, it would be practically perfect, and she already had a chicken prepared in the icebox.
Polph, this had to work. Where had the time even gone? The sun had already set.
Buttons leaned against her leg, gazing up at her adoringly.
"Don't worry," she said. "I'll figure it out."
A shadow passed over the windowsill. Ryul stood as close as he could, his broad shoulders almost filing the frame. "Have you made it yet?" he demanded.
She raised an eyebrow as she put out the onions, garlic, celery, sweet potatoes, yellow potatoes, pink turnips, old carrots, and thin parsnips. With each subsequent item, she stacked them higher. What was he doing here? Not that she had said he shouldn't come at this time. See, this was why it was dangerous to deal with fae. She hadn't thought to specify the time.
