Her fingers groped the little bottle in her pocket. It was risky, it was stupid. But did she have a choice? She had only two options – keepsearching in endless books about magic, about cures, and waiting for when her father's light faded, or she would take a risk, and maybe, it would resolve all her problems.
She stood up and went to a wooden dressing table replete with a small number of other vials with colorful liquids. Violette rarely worked in her room; all the time that she devoted to potions was spent in the shop, where she was more accustomed to experimenting. Though she brought some of her 'achievements' home and kept them gathered on a table near the mirror. She took out a deep transparent bowl from the last drawer and poured an alluring warm liquid in, then a little gold powder, mixing it all with a silver spoon. The sound of the vial opening cut through the silence. Violette sighed and held her breath as she tilted the bottle of purple potion the stranger had given her over the bowl.
The drop fell into the golden liquid and dissolved in it, leaving not a trace behind – a sign that the potion was harmless. Forging a potion was a difficult task, especially if you weren't a wizard. If the golden potion changed color, then the liquid was actually an unhealthy infusion. Red meant it could cause harm to health, whereas purple meant it could change the appearance, and the most terrifying, black, meant death.
The stranger with somber eyes didn't deceive her – the potion was indeed safe. It was not a poison, nor a toxin, but it also could be just a regular decoction for a cold. However, Violette was haunted by the feeling that had visited her back in the shop, when she first sawthe bottle – soft emanating light and the feeling of a real magic. She had no doubt that the potion was genuine; she had spent time among the magical bubbles since birth, after all, her mother was a skilled potionist. Just one glance was enough to confirm it was real, this kind of magic leaves traces. But Violette couldn't just trust anyone, especially a rogue. What if he bewitched her or it was something else? What if she felt this magic for another reason? For example, it could be an illusion. She seemed to be coming up with reasons not to give the magic drink to her father as the fear still constrained her.
Enough!
Enough doubt. It was decided.
Step by step, stair after stair, Violette found herself in the passage to the living room again. A deep sigh escaped her as she clutched the vial to her chest; a sigh of hope and fear at the same time.
Her father was settling down on the couch, drinking freshly brewed tea.
“Father,” she faltered and immediately fell silent, resisting the urge to retreat.
“Yes?” His lips came off the rim of the cup as he looked over his shoulder.
Violette quickly walked forward, the sooner she said this, the faster it would end.
“Do you trust me?” The words escaped her mouth before she could formulate what she was going to say.
“What kind of question is that, dear?”
“Do you…do you trust me as a potionist?” Her lips pressed in a thin line as she sat opposite him.
“Honey, you are the daughter of your mother. I have no doubt in your talent.”
Good.She breathed.
“What if I say I found a potion which can help your health. But I am not sure about it completely?” she continued carefully.
Her father smiled. “When you doubt yourself, I'm always at your side,” he said softly.
The inner corners of her brows nervously angled up.
“If you think it will help me, I trust you. If I didn't trust you, what kind of father would I be?” The smile that hung on his face lit a new fire of hope in her heart and she tried to memorize this expression of pride and trust.
And that's how it was done. With trust. No lies. Well almost, as she didn't tell him how exactly she got the potion. It didn't matter, not in the moment, for sure.
Violette staredat the ceiling for a long time, not being able to bring herself to properly sleep tonight. Always thinking about her father, about how weird yesterday evening was; a stranger named Dante, and most importantly – the potion he gave her. She was worried about her father's well-being, but didn't want to bother him until he woke up. She glanced at the window – the sky was painted with a pale orange and red hue,wiping the cloak of night away. A burning yellow disc finally showed up on the horizon, the first rays of which began to creep across the sky announcing the coming of the new day.
The steps on the wooden stairs creaked as Violette tried to go down silently. The white fabric of her nightgown flashed around the corner as she slipped into the kitchen.
The surprise that shot through her as she found her father already awake, preparing breakfast, made her freeze in the doorway, watching him set the table and humming under his breath. She would stay there even longer if he wouldn't notice her.
“You woke up!” He raised his head and went right to the stove. “Was I too loud?”
Violette opened her mouth to say something but words just didn't come out. Her lashes fluttered and she just took two steps to the table and quietly sat. Her mind couldn't even function to offer him help. Only when she noticed his hands were shaking, she flew up from her place.
“Dad! What are you doing?” She grabbed his hands.
“It's okay. I'm fine, Violette,” he demanded as she was trying to put him in a chair. “I just woke up early and had this sudden burst of energy and thought it would be nice to make breakfast. It's been a while.”
Violette blinked. “And you feel okay?”
“Not great but I haven’t felt so alive in months,” he replied and went back to the stove.
