Seleste, Then

SELESTE

Comfrey

Valerian

Mistletoe

Skullcap

Germander

Chaparral

Seleste ground dried valerian with her mortar and pestle, the pink petals a spray of gaiety in the dark kitchen. They worked by candlelight, beginning well after the household had retired to bed.

"Skullcap," Seleste murmured.

"That's the?—"

"Purple one."

Cal quickly took up the bundle tied with twine and handed her the flowers. They'd collected all they needed two days prior, by splitting the list and obtaining the ingredients inconspicuously throughout the day.

" Séchade rapide ," she'd whispered, tying the bundles with twine and hanging them to dry on the Estern side of Cal's chalet , where the harsh Summer sun beat down on them most of the following day and the one after, drying them to perfection.

After meeting with the earl to discuss Elsie and Emeline's progress in their studies, she was absolutely certain Cal had been right. The earl's liver was at risk.

What bothered them both was how easily Dr. Pollock had missed such a thing. According to Cal, the only medicine given to his father was Laudanum, to help him rest. They hypothesised that Dr. Pollock had not been made aware of the blood expelled during coughing fits, or he merely assumed it was a side effect of heavy Laudanum usage, causing lung depression.

Cal had been livid. " The high dosage of alcohol content in Laudanum is likely making his liver worse! " he'd seethed the moment they knew they were correct.

Their plan was a simple one. Dietary restrictions for the earl, and a dosage of herbal medicine—unknowingly blessed by a witch—to be taken thrice daily. They had already replaced the Laudanum a poppy and water mixture, laced with honey and spices just as the true Laudanum had been. Fearful the earl might have withdrawals at first, they'd elected not to fully rinse the amber vial of its contents for the first two refills, in order to taper him off slowly over the span of a few days .

" When the next delivery of Laudanum comes, I'll be sure to handle it instead of Mother or Madame Riley ."

"Water."

Cal handed Seleste the jar of water that he did not know had been charged by the light of the Strawberry Moon. She poured it into her mortar and began creating a paste.

"Comfrey," Seleste whispered next. "The bell-shaped indigo."

Cal handed her the bundle, but this time he stood behind her as she worked. At first, he watched over her shoulder, but slowly he began to kiss up her neck, causing a smile to rise to her lips.

By the time the comfrey was crushed in the bottom of her mortar, Cal's hands were on her hips, slowly pulling her skirts up to her waist. He slid one hand forward, teasing at the apex of her thighs, and she leaned her head back against his shoulder, heat coursing through her.

"Mm," he breathed against her neck, "you always smell like coconut and sunflowers. It's intoxicating."

"Cal," she murmured. "We can't. Not here."

But she could feel the hard length of him against her. She wanted nothing more than to drop her pestle and bend over the counter. Instead, she twisted, putting her in a no less compromising position, but it somewhat halted her kitchen counter fantasies. He bent in to kiss her, the closeness causing the parchment she'd hidden in her bodice to crinkle. The sound sent ice coating her bones.

Cal instantly saw the shift. "Seleste? Are you all right? Are you truly that worried?" He stepped away, hands raised and a boyish grin on his face. "I can be good, I promise."

She gave him her best smile. "No, you can't." Sauntering forward, she closed the space between them again and gave him a gentle kiss. "Go to your chalet while I finish here. I promise that I will slip out of this dress and into your bed the moment I arrive."

"Goddess," he groaned with heavy-lidded eyes. "Please do exactly that."

She laughed and swatted at his rear. "Get out of here."

Cal gave her an exaggerated bow and left out the back kitchen door. As soon as it shut behind him, Seleste pulled the hidden paper from her bodice and unfolded it with trembling fingers. The list of ingredients given to her by the Grimoire. The ones she needed to collect beneath the cover of darkness.

Swallowing hard, she set the potion list aside and quickly poured the rest of the moon water into the medicinal potion for the current earl.

" Guérir. Restaurer. Relancer."

She stoppered the vial and gathered it, along with the list of new dietary restrictions they'd come up with and written down in Seleste's best imitation of Dr. Pollock's handwriting.

It wouldn't last. It was only a matter of time before their plans were foiled, but it would give them enough time to ensure the remedy would work, and gather enough evidence to prove it to the good doctor and the earl. With any luck, that would be enough for them to continue the remedy.

As an extra precaution to extend their secret for as long as possible without anyone noticing, the doctor had written a note at the bottom of the dietary list, insisting the entire household be on it as well, for solidarity.

Dread coursing through her veins, Seleste set the items where Madame Riley would find them come morning and picked up her list from the Grimoire .

First to procure: the blood of a weasel.

It had been a long time since she'd held a knife like this.

The bone handle dug into Seleste's palm as she walked through the woods behind Whitehall, cloaked in silencing magic.

It had been a long time since she'd been forced to hunt.

Listening intently, she stepped over branches and bramble, hoping to find a weasel before she reached the path toward their sunflower patch. She couldn't bear the thought of desecrating their sacred place with the blood of a kill.

Unwilling to prolong the hunt or give Cal any reason to grow worried about why she hadn't yet arrived at his chalet after making the draught for his father, she paused amidst the trees. Closing her eyes, Seleste centred her unsteady mind. The dread in her gut since reading the Grimoire's Order had unfurled into a slick sea beast of mal de mer , though her feet were firmly on the ground, nary a boat in sight.

" Viens à moi, mon sacrifice."

Her pure, clean magic bucked at the spell, sending another bout of nausea roiling through her. She hadn't been able to eat a bite in two days. This type of potion was wrong . Distinctly against what they believed in. Every witch had the power, hidden beneath the well of their innate magic. But it was never to be used, never to be summoned. A spell used for a potion wouldn't tap into that deep part of her, at least she didn't think so, but what it pulled from the blood of the animal was disconcerting. What it would do to Cal, even more so .

But it was the betrayal making her nauseous.

A rustling sounded to her right, and Seleste turned, dagger ready. She saw the creature's beady black eyes glint in the moonlight, and her own eyes burned with the pricking of tears.

Another betrayal was afoot as she knelt, letting her cloaking magic fall away. The weasel shrank back, but Seleste held out her hand, a few berries in her palm. It sniffed the air as if deciding whether the berries were worth the risk, ultimately deciding they were.

Crawling through the brush, it stopped just short of her fingertips. Her instinct was to murmur to the creature that it was all right. That she wouldn't hurt it. But this time, it would be a lie, and she couldn't bring herself to lie.

Gingerly, the weasel approached, snatching a plump berry in its tiny paws before turning to dart back into hiding.

But Seleste was faster.

Catching the weasel by the ruff of its neck, she ignored its cries of fear as she held it aloft.

"I'm so sorry," she whimpered, quickly slicing the dagger across the innocent animal's neck. Blood began to pour, sliding down her wrist and arm, the weasel going slack in her grip. Tears streaming down her cheeks, Seleste dropped the dagger and pulled out a small vial to collect the blood.

Laying the creature to the side gently, she corked the vial and wrapped it in linen before tucking it into the basket she'd brought with her. Taking a small shovel from her basket, she dug a hole in a patch of moist soil, protected from the harsh sun by the shade of trees, and laid the weasel to rest there.

"I will not let your sacrifice be in vain," she whispered as she filled the grave, praying to Hespa it wasn't an empty promise. Praying that this potion would not harm Cal.

But worry clung to her lungs like smoke.

Wiping the dirt from her skirts, Seleste rose and began searching for the weasel's burrow, for surely there would be the bones of a raven close by it.

Sure enough, within a few moments and with the aid of her glowing orb of magic, she found the burrow and a plethora of small bones.

" Discerner ."

With her hand hovering over the pile, she stopped when her palm warmed. Immensely grateful she would not have to kill another creature, she took up within her fingers the bone of a raven and nestled it in her basket next to the items she'd already had on hand.

Cayenne

Black pepper

Rue

Tourmaline

Orange

Blood of a weasel

Water charged by the moon

On her way back to Whitehall, she would pluck some fresh coriander from the herb garden.

With everything procured and mortar and pestle in hand, Seleste found a secluded spot on the grounds to kneel in the soft grass beneath the moonlight. She was unwilling to risk being caught in the kitchen brewing a potion. There had been no reason to bring her cauldron with her when she came to Whitehall, but she took a moment to summon in from her Isle. For an extra measure of peace she desperately needed, she not only summoned it but closed her eyes and envisioned exactly where it sat in her hut, right next to her potion shelf.

When her eyes opened, the ancient black cauldron sat before her in the grass. It did little to provide her the comfort she'd hoped it would. Alas, there was no way but forward.

Swallowing down the bile in her throat, Seleste placed the black tourmaline crystal and raven bone in her mortar and set to crushing them. At the last moment, she decided to take a page out of Aggie's book, and withdrew a jagged piece of the crystal, tucking it in the bodice of her dress, close to her heart. Immediately, she felt its calming effects, but it wasn't nearly enough.

She dumped the crushed tourmaline and bone into the cauldron and poured in a measure of moon water. Next, she popped the cork from the vile of weasel blood. Her hands shook as she poured it into the cauldron, whispering a spell for heat since she did not have a fire. Immediately, the blood, water, bone, and tourmaline began to sizzle at the bottom of the small cauldron, the smell acrid. Quickly, she added all the other ingredients, summoning her favourite wooden spoon from her home to stir.

"Goddess," she breathed, a prayer and a plea, as she poured the potion into a vial.

" S'en aller ."

The cauldron, spoon, and leftover ingredients all disappeared along with the basket.

Bile pushed at the back of her throat again, her stomach clenching as she rose and walked back toward Whitehall and into the kitchen to wash her hands. Blood and soil filled the basin, and she dumped it outside in a bush. Blinking back tears, she found a bottle of deep red wine and two glasses. They clinked together as she picked them up, a sound she'd always associated with happiness. Joy. Pleasant times.

Willing herself to remain calm, unassuming, she left the house and strode through the night toward the chalet . To Cal.

He was snoring softly when she walked in, and she debated leaving. Defying the Grimoire. Facing her Sanction.

But the Sisters' Sanctions were meant to take away what they loved the most. And now, that was Cal.

"It's just a puzzle," she whispered to herself, standing there in the dark of his chalet , wine, potion, and glasses in her hands. Everything was just a puzzle.

If her Sanction would be to take Cal from her, then the potion couldn't cause the same fate. It was na?ve logic. But it was the only chance she had.

Suppressing the nausea, Seleste quietly set down her items on the table and stepped out of all of her clothing. She was glad she'd agreed to do so, for there was dirt on her skirts and a few drops of blood she didn't have the mental wherewithal to explain away at the moment.

The sensation of her bare feet on worn floorboards was familiar. Grounding. She took a deep breath. Soon, she would be in Cal's arms and all would be well.

It had to be.

As quietly as possible, she uncorked the wine and the vial of potion, pouring them both a glass. In Cal's, she emptied the contents of the vial. Taking yet another steadying breath, she approached Cal's sleeping form and set the glasses next to his bed, careful to remember which was his. She bent to brush a kiss against his lips, pushing away an onslaught of tears .

"Cal," she whispered, smiling sadly as he stirred at the sound of her voice. "Darling, wake up."

He blinked up at her blearily, his face fuzzled by the darkness in the chalet . She watched as his gaze slid down her naked body. "Mm," he groaned, sitting up. "You certainly deliver on your promises."

Seleste smiled, hoping the darkness would hide that it didn't reach her eyes, and handed him his glass of wine. "Drink up, my lord. There will be no sleep until dawn."

He eyed her hungrily as he sipped his wine and tried to hand it back to her.

"No, no," she clucked. "All of it."

Placing the rim of the glass back to his lips, she gently touched the bottom, tipping it slowly until he had no choice but to down the rest in two gulps. Cal made a face when it was gone. "That tasted quite strange," he murmured, as he set his glass down on the nightstand.

But Seleste was already slipping into the sheets next to him, sending her magic to clean the glass of any remnants of potion. "Ah, then taste me instead," she hummed against his lips.

The watery, grey light of dawn was coming in through the windows when Seleste awoke. Bliss filled her to the brim as she felt Cal asleep next to her, barely concealed in a mess of sheets. She kissed him on the cheek and padded across the chalet to where her clothes were discarded, not quite remembering her arrival at his little oasis.

Alas, the girls would be breaking their fast soon and it would be another day filled with lessons. They were scheduled to begin a small lesson in physical self-defence.

There was little time to be wasted, as she had to return to her room, get herself cleaned up, and don a plain dress, unlike the tangerine one lying at her feet. With a peaceful sigh, she slipped into her underthings and stepped into her dress. As she pulled it up over her arms, she noticed how dirty the skirts were. Filthy. And there were a few dots of a rust-coloured stain. She pulled the skirts up to better inspect it. Blood?

Everything came crashing back into her memory, sleep and bliss pushed aside in an instant.

" Oh, Goddess ." What had she done?

Seleste bent over double, dry-heaving until she vomited up bile all over her sodden skirts.