Chapter 23

E velyn worked for days, only stopping when the process of brewing the clarifying potion required more time—or when Archie demanded sustenance, which was rather more often than Evelyn would have preferred, as it gave her too much time to worry and fret.

There wasn't much of the sacred soil to use. Rona had been a bit stingy, Evelyn thought. She would have to be cautious, only using it for a test when she was confident she'd gotten the cleansing potion brewed to perfection. And even then, she thought the best course would be to divide it into four equal measures, giving her four chances, should her first batch not come together as planned.

Fiadh had made it clear a second request for help would not be welcome.

"Once this is set to simmer, we'll have a bit of a wait," Evelyn told Archie, her lips pursing slightly as she crushed the shells from two chicken eggs into a fine powder in her jade mortar.

"When can you try it on the blight?" Archie asked, hopping back and forth, his little body thrumming with a rush of sugar from his daily allotment of marmalade.

"Tomorrow night."

An unspoken question hung between them, but before Evelyn could try to come up with an answer, or even some reassurance to offer both herself and her familiar, a sizzle caught her attention. Turning, she found the cauldron was on the verge of boiling over, sending bits of the precious liquid to the hearth stones below. The sticky potion clung to the hot stones and began to smoke.

"Ack!" she yelped, racing over to poke at the fire. As she leaned over, her journal tumbled from the front pocket of her apron, and its edges quickly caught in the wild flames.

With another shriek, she snatched it back and blew out the fire dancing along the bound edge, but it was too late. The leather was singed, some of the edges burned to black char.

Archie hooted loudly as smoke snaked through the small shop. "My marmalade, Evelyn! You'll get ashes into it! Oh, where is the blasted lid?!"

"One minute!" she barked, sweat beading across her brow as she stamped out some stray embers that threatened to escape onto the wood floor.

A knock sounded and Evelyn jolted upright. The door cracked open and a handsome bearded face appeared in the gap. "Uh, is everything all right in here?" Coren asked, opening the door wider.

Evelyn inhaled sharply, prepared to assure him she was fine, but only managed to draw in a lungful of smoke. She sputtered and coughed, rearing back from the fire hard enough she bumped into her worktable.

Coren raced across the room, first checking on her, then throwing open all of the windows to let the smoke escape. Archie hooted and flapped his wings, screeching for Coren to find the lid for the marmalade. Meanwhile, the cauldron bubbled and hissed, merrily singing its own song amidst the chaos.

Eventually, Evelyn stopped coughing, her face undoubtedly as red as a beet pulled from the ground at the peak of harvest, her cheeks and forehead stained with soot and sweat.

"By the Four, what a mess!" she exclaimed, looking at the charred clumps and bits of ash scattered across the hearthstones.

Archie stood hunched over a small jar, his wings drooping as he peered at its contents. "My beautiful marmalade!"

Evelyn scoffed. "There's nothing wrong with it."

He turned narrowed eyes toward her. "There's ash in it!"

"There is not. "

He clacked his beak. "I'm going out to hunt before you turn me into a common roast! You there, oaf, you see to it she doesn't light any more fires in my absence."

He didn't wait for either Coren's agreement or refusal before he hopped over the sill and flapped off toward the setting sun.

"Ignore him," Evelyn said, fanning the air with her hair scarf to coax the last curling bits of smoke toward the window.

Coren blinked. "Did he just call me oaf ?"

Evelyn pinched her lips together to keep from laughing. "I'd say to consider it a term of endearment, but with Archie, one never really knows."

Coren shook his head, but his bewilderment faded quickly, his smile returning as his hand cupped the side of her face. "You sure you're all right?"

Grinning, Evelyn took a step forward and rose up on her toes to press a kiss to his lips. "I'm fine."

The door opened wider and Nareen poked her head inside the shop, her nose sniffing the air with interest.

Evelyn laughed and Coren turned, following her gaze. "Oh, there you are." He laughed and called the dog over. "Someone got distracted by the bait shop over across the way. The woman at the counter took pity on her and tossed out some scraps."

"Ah, that would be Trudy." Evelyn smiled.

"Well, she's Nareen's new favorite person," Coren said with a laugh .

Evelyn bumped into his side. "I told you, it's not all cutthroats and pickpockets down here on the Row."

Coren laughed and nodded his head. "Yes, yes, I suppose. I'm glad you have good people around you."

Evelyn's heart stumbled once more. The sentiment was simple enough, but felt significant all the same. An unexpected rise of emotions swelled in her chest, and she kissed Coren again, growing more bold as her hands went to his chest. Coren drew her in closer, one hand sliding into her hair, the other at her waist, holding her fast.

He smelled of fresh soil and citrus and… rain? Which made no sense, seeing as it hadn't rained in several days.

Reluctant as she was to do so, she pulled away, grinning uncontrollably. "I didn't expect to see you today. I thought you would be preparing for the hilltop market. That's tonight, isn't it?"

"The night market is on Talimorn," Coren replied, his fingers twisting a stray curl that had fallen free of the others and hung beside her cheek.

Evelyn frowned. "Isn't today Talimorn?"

He chuckled. "Only two days off. It's Avamorn."

"Oh." Evelyn shook her head, her eyes momentarily closing. "I've lost track of time, I suppose."

Coren shifted a glance toward the hearth. Evelyn had managed to stifle the fire for the most part, but what remained was enough to keep the contents of the large cauldron simmering. "And what does this one do? Clear boils? Warts? Festering wounds? "

Evelyn turned and grinned at him. "I say, Coren Thorneheart, you sure know how to charm a woman! You simply must stop all this talk of pestilence before I'm left unable to resist you!"

Coren's grin hitched and he took a step toward her. "Ah, so my plan is working, then?"

Matching his smile, she tossed the scarf onto the worktable and closed the gap between them. His hands found her hips and she draped her arms over his shoulders, smiling up into those enchanting eyes. It struck her how familiar and comfortable the whole thing was, the way they pulled together, like two sides of a seam being stitched closed.

Evelyn's mind wandered as she considered the way the fading light through the window changed the hue of oceanic gray in Coren's eyes.

He smiled down at her. "I appreciate you're a busy woman, but might I convince you to come out with me for dinner?"

She groaned and cut a glance toward the hearth. "I wish I could say yes, but I need to stay here and keep watch. I can't let the potion get too cool before I add in the next ingredients. And then it will require a good bit of stirring, and that's—well, there's a process to it, is all."

His auburn brows lifted as he glanced toward the hearth, then back to her. "Ah. And how much longer will it take, do you think?" he asked, a roughness in his voice like that of one who'd gone too long without water .

"Perhaps another hour, or two, until I could leave it for—" She pressed her lips together before the words the night could slip free.

"A time," she quickly amended.

Coren smiled. "Well, since you cannot come out with me to get a proper supper, I shall have to bring one to you."

Nareen, sensing it was time to go—or perhaps recognizing the word supper —backtracked to the door, her thick tail swishing slowly.

Coren pressed a kiss to Evelyn's lips, and while he'd clearly intended it to be a quick goodbye, she tugged at the front of his shirt and kept him there until she was satisfied. For the time being.

A dusting of pink showed above the neat lines where his beard met his cheeks, and he exhaled into a smile. "You hold that thought, Evelyn."

She quirked an eyebrow at him as he shuffled for the door, nearly tripping over an impatient Nareen. "Hurry back."

Evelyn had completed the next step in her potion work by the time Coren returned with a small wooden crate, filled with food. The fire was snuffed, as all she needed to do was wait for the potion to cool completely before completing the final steps Rona listed. She brushed her hands off on her apron, removed it, then joined Coren as he carefully unpacked a filet of smoked fish, a loaf of fresh bread flecked with herbs, an assortment of dried fruit, and a wedge of a sharp cheese, all of which very much interested Nareen.

Evelyn winced and apologized for the lack of a proper table or set of chairs, but Coren only smiled and shrugged. She cleared a space on her worktable, and they used two of the empty casks as seats.

"Is this from Lou?" she asked as they began to eat.

Coren chuckled. "See, you already know me too well. What can I say, I am a creature of habit." He tore a corner of bread off the loaf and slipped it to Nareen as she nosed at the edge of the table. The dog ate the bread, but kept her soft eyes on the portion of fish.

"I don't consider that a fault," Evelyn assured him. "I am something of a creature of habit myself. And Caele knows Archie is, too, though he would likely deny it, if for no other reason than to be contrary."

Coren chuckled. "He seems to make for quite an interesting companion. Do all witches have familiars that can speak?"

Evelyn shook her head, her mouth full of the still-warm bread. When she finished the bite, her fingers reached to tear off another. "Yes and no. All witches have familiars, but not all familiars can speak. We generally consider it a special blessing from Talira, who has domain over animals. Though, in Archie's case, it can be both a blessing and a curse." She snorted, glad the small owl was not within earshot.

Coren ruffled a hand over Nareen's head as she continued to stare at the fish. "If Nareen could talk, I have no doubt she would drive me mad within a week."

Evelyn laughed. "Archie can be rather single-minded, too."

A knock sounded on the door, the sound brash and urgent.

Frowning, Evelyn got to her feet and hurried to answer it. Coren twisted on his makeshift stool and followed her with a curious glance. She opened the door and met the eyes of a slight man with a bald head and clean-shaved face. His complexion was fair enough to show the signs of exertion in red blooms on his cheeks. "The healer!" he wheezed. "The witch. Is she here?"

Judging by his simple clothing, Evelyn thought he might be one of the farmers or dock workers, but she did not recognize him at first glance.

"I'm Evelyn. Are you all right, sir?"

The man exhaled and beckoned. "Please, come quickly. There was an accident, and two were badly injured?—"

Coren came to stand beside her. "What happened?"

The man's eyes darted toward Coren. "Uh—a shelf fell—" he stammered, forcing his eyes back to Evelyn. "Please, there isn't time?— "

Evelyn nodded, already reaching for her satchel.

Coren followed her out.

"You don't have to come," she said as he whistled for Nareen. "I don't know how long I'll be."

The man looked between them. "We only need the witch."

Coren raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm going with you."

He wasn't leaving room for argument, and there wasn't time anyway.

Evelyn slung her satchel over her shoulder and locked the door with a pinch of magic, not bothering to dig the key from her bag, then looked at the man and nodded. "Lead the way."