I roll my eyes, my body flushing and my mind bringing up kisses, hands, and heat even though the last thing I want is to recall what Rom and I did right here right now.
Tully releases me, rubs her hands together, and jumps up and down. “Oooo, that good, was it?”
“Nothing happened.”
She barks a laugh. “Right. That was my most powerful mix.”
My jaw aches from clenching it too tightly. “You’re the worst.”
“Yes, yes. We’ve established that. Now, talk. It wasn’t nothing, and I know it.”
“It wasn’t nothing, no, but you don’t get any information. You’re lucky I’m not reporting you to the Lord Mayor for magic misuse.”
“You wouldn’t.”
I raise my eyebrows and cross my arms. “I would, and I could.”
“I won’t do it again. In fact,” she says. “I’ll give you a warning so you can avoid being influenced like that again to prove I’m sorry.”
“Warning?”
“In the forest on Rustion’s land, there are these flowers that bloom during the harvest moon. Moonpetals. If the wind blows the right way, their pollen will make you want to hump everything in sight. The blooms are the base ingredient in that tea.”
She seems to be telling the truth, and I have to admit I’m glad to know about the moonpetals. “What do they look like?” I ask begrudgingly.
“I gather them at night, so I’m notquite sure, really,” she says. “Maybe they have white on them? Not sure. They make a sound when the wind rises. It’s like they’re sighing.”
“I do appreciate that warning. I’ve never heard of them.”
Tully shrugs. “Most people know about them, but no one wants to admit they’ve indulged in their pollen under the forest’s shadows.”
I turn to leave. “Fine. But I’m going to stay mad at you for a while.” Spinning, I point my finger once more. “Send an apology to Rom now. I’m going to watch you do it.”
“You’re so dramatic,” she says. “I guarantee he adored every second of it.”
I swallow, imagining the way he had touched himself while partially cloaked in the skirts of my dress. “Doesn’t matter. You broke a law. You broke our trust.”
She waves her hands in the air as if my words are nothing more than annoying gnats. “I’m doing it. Calm down.”
I trail her to a roll-top desk in her receiving room. Using a peacock quill dipped in blood-red ink, she pens a quick note to Rom.
I apologizefor the naughty tea. I hope you can forgive my gift of a lovely evening with your crush.
Tully
“Tully, no. That isn’t—”
She has her wand out and is flicking a spell across the note before I can say another word. The note is gone.
“You’re impossible.” I march out of her house, refusing to listen to her pleas and half-arsed apologies as I walk out of shouting distance.
During weaving breaksover the next day or so, I rummage through the delightfully tattered and worn-soft recipe book I took from my childhood home. I asked my sister if she minded me taking it the day I finally left the farm for good to walk through the Blessed Stones that led to the realm beyond the Veil. She didn’t even respond; our final argument had been heated. I don’t feel bad about claiming the cookbook because my sister always just knew inherently how to cook. She does not need it, and she has plenty of Mother and Father’s things around her at the farm to hold theirmemories close.
Flipping pages carefully, I stumble on a recipe for shepherd’s pie around which someone drew a quick charcoal ring. Probably Father. He was a sucker for a good crust. I mark the page with a spare length of wheat-hued woolen thread. In the dessert section, I spot a sticky toffee pudding that looks fantastic. The pudding might be tough. I’ve never tried to make a dessert like that, and I doubt Rom has either. But he is full of surprises, so maybe he has.
Spark appears at my feet, his eyes narrowed. He yips up at me, fluttering his wings.
“All right, hold on.”
