“It’s… fine,” he says.
“Fine?” I nearly shriek. “It’s amazing. What are you talking about?”
Jarron shrugs and comes back to meet me at my active cauldrons. “I have high expectations for this place. It has to make up for—” He pauses, reconsidering his words.
I frown, eyes narrowed. I hadn’t really considered that this would be the first time he’s seen the workshop since it was his doing.
“But it’s not impressive to you?”
“What you’re doing with it is impressive,” he says, nodding to my seven active cauldrons and the table with several books and notebooks open. I follow his gaze, and my stomach drops.
Delayed Death Potion
I can clearly see my scribbled notes about which potions I intend to use in my assassination attempt. And one of the loose pages between books? The list of names.
I slyly shift over to my notes and slip that list beneath a book, shut my journal, and stack a few books, pretending to tidy up.
“I don’t mind the mess,” he says. “I’m happy to see you’ve been hard at work.”
I smile sheepishly.
Yep, hard at work planning an assassination heist behind your back. No biggie.
“How is the espresso machine?” He nods to the corner.
“Fantastic,” I say and prove it by making us both perfect chai lattes.
He accepts his but only takes one sip before abandoning it.
“Are there any beverages I could create that you’d actually enjoy?” I ask.
“I enjoy everything you make.”
I roll my eyes. “No need to lie.”
He smirks. “I suppose there are some, but I wouldn’t expect you to make them. Humans generally consider them… unsavory.”
“Bloody pig-guts or something?”
Jarron chuckles but doesn’t give a real answer.
I begin my methodical check of all my potions and even begin the delayed death potion I’d finally landed on, using my teacher’s suggestions on how to strengthen the dosage and speed up the brewing time. I only have two weeks, and that’ll include the process of boiling the concentration down as low as physically possible.
For my plan to work, I really, really need it to be a minuscule dose.
Within thirty minutes, I have my main weapon bubbling. Good timing because just a few moments later, Lola and Janet arrive.
They greet Jarron again like it’s the first time they’ve seen him in months and then begin showing him around the workshop he had built like it belongs to them.
I can’t stop grinning the whole time, and based on the light in Jarron’s eyes, he’s enjoying it just as much.
We spend a full ten minutes talking about Janet’s spelled painting, which really seems to interest Jarron. He asks her questions about which types of spells she’s used so far and if she’s put any potions in the paint.
Her eyes widen. “No,” she breathes. “Oh my God, I should have used potions in my paint!” She twists to look at me, brow furrowed.
“Is that even possible?” Lola asks.
I shrug. We all turn our attention to Jarron, who smiles, amused at us all. “Yes, it’s possible. No, I don’t know how.”
