Page 16 of Bound By Blood
The rosemary garlic chicken hadn't worked, but maybe white beans with pork and thyme? She could get the white beans started soaking now. The book stated that thyme helped many cultivate strength and encouraged protection. That might translate to restoration of magical powers, right?
Better than nothing. Besides, she had some extra pork bones from the last delivery.
She made the preparations, using up the last of one pitcher and all but a third of the other to start soaking the beans. A sharp rap on the door startled her almost to dropping it.
"Hello there." Traelan stood in the doorway, wearing the same vibrant cloak and hat as the day before but with different garb beneath. A dark blue doublet with charcoal grey trousers and a silver baldric with a series of runes carved into the metal buckle. "You're still open for business?"
She hugged the carafe close and scowled. "You need soup?"
"What do you have left? I know it's rather late in the day for new orders."
"Same as yesterday except we're all out of vegetable." She rattled off the usual line-up, her heart still racing.
There was something about him that seemed very familiar. As if she should know him. Not that he would be easy to forget. His piercing eyes and the sharp clothing all made him difficult to miss. Was it really just because she'd run into his type before?
"Ah, alas. Vegetable is precisely what I was hoping for. Well, it will teach me to come so late or to not put in an order." He glanced around the cottage's interior, then sniffed the air. "Tell me." His brow wrinkled. "Has a blood fae passed through this way?"
She blinked, feigning innocence as she placed the pitcher back on the counter. "That's a rather specific question. You can—you can smell different types of fae?"
"My sense of smell is exceptional. I smell blood fae magic. One has been here, practicing their magic."
She shrugged. "A lot of people pass through. I don't know how to recognize all the races on sight. And I definitely can't smell them like you apparently can."
"You'd notice a blood fae though, I'm certain. Especially as this is warded against undesired entry. Besides, beyond that, this magic smells raw. Unfinished. Lacking." He frowned, his brow creasing with three thin lines. His gaze traveled around the room. "Do you mind if I search the cottage?"
"I do mind, actually. This is my home, and everything is fine. I don't need you sniffing around." She gave the wooden spoon a solid rap on the side of the pot. "Like Povro said, there are no blood fae here. And even if there were, everything is secured against them and a lot of other things that might cause me or anyone else harm."
"Yes. Povro mentioned you asked him to come and treat the windowsills."
Damn Povro.
She steeled her smile and gave a slight nod. No chance of casually asking whether he knew how one might restore blood fae magic. "So I did."
"Against blood fae."
"Against anything that might cross and which might be repelled with his particular blend. Don't let appearances deceive you. He's a bit of a genius when it comes to that sort of thing."
"How did you come to realize that your home was lacking in this manner?"
She lifted a shoulder. "I know Povro. I figured it out. He's a good man, but he does tend to miss things."
"Yes. But for you to conclude the windowsill specifically—"
"Listen, I'm not trying to be rude. But why do you care?"
"I wouldn't want to see you get hurt. Blood fae can get nasty. They don't even need the blood magic. Even with their mates, they exact a horrifying toll simply at the confession of love. There are few that compare to them with their puppetry and monstrousness."
"You speak as if you have personal experience with them."
"I do. And I would hate to see someone so lovely fall prey to them."
She smirked. No one called her lovely these days unless they wanted something.
"Leave off the flattery. What do you want from me exactly?"
"Any information about any blood fae you might find. Their magic. Their icons. Their possessions. Anything."
"And what are you going to do with it?"
