Page 44
A long stretch of silence drew between them, Peri had absolutely no idea what to say. Finally, she straightened her clothes as she asked, “Would you like some tea? Oleander should be back shortly with a fresh pot, we could get an extra cup if you’d—”
“Some might call this kismet, our meeting,” Laurel interrupted. Her eyes were lucid, and Peri noticed the same calculating gleam that all of her children possessed.
She pulled a soft brown book from an ornate silver bag slung across her body, and handed it to Peri. “Give this to my son and have him give it to Wisteria, this is the only way she will actually read it.”
Peri frowned. “She wouldn’t read it if you gave it to her?”
A melancholy smile tugged at Laurel’s lips. “I tried. She tossed that book into the fireplace without a second thought.”
Peri hesitated, then nodded. “I can give it to him.”
Laurel reached into her bag again, drawing out a small vial. “And this as well.”
Peri stepped closer, taking both the book and vial gingerly. The book disappeared into her bag; the vial, she inspected more closely.
“What is it?”
“A liquid spell for mental protection. Oleander needs it if he’s to survive much longer.”
Peri’s eyes widened. “I thought he was feeling better.”
Laurel shook her head and looked away, tears slipped down her dirty face. Peri forced herself to think rationally for a moment. Something had been wrong with him for a while, that she knew. But he’d spoken clearly to her today, and his eyes hadn’t once misted over into fathomless voids. Sure, his appearance was still fatigued and unkempt, only—she heaved a calming breath and tilted the vial, watching the dark liquid swirl within. Had he lied about feeling better?
“Is there obsidian dust in this?” Peri asked thoughtfully.
“Of course.”
Alright… this might actually be a powerful protection spell after all. Peri’s brow furrowed as she studied it. “And how did you get Oleander’s blood without him realising it?”
Laurel’s lips curved. “With extreme care.”
This potion would have required hours of intense care, how had a mad woman done such a thing? She swirled the vial again. “This was recently brewed. I didn’t think it was possible to craft this potion under an Imbolc Moon.”
“In dire circumstances,” Laurel said, “one might add a drop of Ipomoea Alba essence to balance out the imperfect conditions.”
Peri’s gut told her she could trust Laurel—despite the apparent madness. This was undeniably a mind-protection spell in its purest form, and Laurel had answered every question competently. She watched the dark liquid swirl. Would Oleander even drink this willingly?
Laurel sighed, as if reading her mind. “Best slip it into his tea when he’s unaware.”
She gave a slow nod.
Laurel turned back to the window. “Just a tip from me to you—” Her tone lilted between amusement and sorrow. “If you want future help from Slang, you’ll need offerings harvested with hate.”
Why was everyone so obsessed with her visiting Slang once more? It was as if they didn’t care that Slang had used her very first bargain against her and given her this impossible task of helping the magical creatures because of it.
She was not eager to rush back into a situation where she could easily be tricked into even more schemes and bargains… and cutting something off in hate?
“I’ve been told my whole life that hatefulness is a sin.” Peri swallowed down the unease clawing at her chest. “I’m not sure I even know how to hate.”
Laurel’s eyes fogged over for a moment, she whispered, “I see gouged eyes… and someday, you’ll be my family.”
Family?
The future that rose before her was a life with Valus. She wondered what Valus would say if she were to tell him that someday they’d be related to the Grand Duke’s family in the Rune Circle. He’d likely rage against the very thought of it.
Laurel let out a sound—half laugh, half sob—and stepped onto the terrace. “You don’t believe me. You’ve only just met me and think I’m mad. But you’ll do as I ask, so I don’t care.”
“Laurel, I—” Peri scrambled for something, anything, to say in reassurance.
