Chapter 12
Hanna
Iwas fairly certain that the cauldron shouldn’t be hissing the way it was.
According to my grandmother’s notes, it should have been purring. This was quite a different sound.
My brow furrowed as the surface of the potion shimmered too bright. A blush-pink fog unfurling across my cluttered workspace.
“Oh no, no, no, no—”
The first thing that happened was that the cauldron burped.
Which wasn’t that much of a warning signal.
But then the entire workshop glittered as if a star had sneezed, and I realized that something was very wrong.
By the time the sparkles cleared, I was looking outside through the open door to where Savla stood, holding a plank of dark wood.
“What the hell did you do this time?” his gravelly voice cut through the haze like a blade.
I turned slowly. Outside, the ever-glow of Grebath’s streetlamps washed over the rooftop. I gave him a forced grin.
“Nothing,” I insisted, although I was almost certain I’d done something. I just had no idea what.
His narrowed eyes told me he didn’t believe me. And that was when I heard it. The sound of footsteps on the stairs to the rooftop.
Uh-oh.
I wasn’t the only one who noticed either. Savla huffed out an aggrieved breath and shook his head before turning to face the door, dropping the plank of wood and stepping in front of me in a protective stance that should not have my heart flip-flopping as much as it was.
The first knock sounded harmless. The second nearly shook the door off its hinges. By the third, I knew I’d made a terrible mistake.
Before I could back up even further into the workshop, the door swung open and there was a horde of males standing at the threshold.
The guard from downstairs, three of Dristan’s employees whose names I always mixed up, the nice facilities manager who always had an extra smile for me.
They were all staring at me with dazed, adoring smiles.
The guard’s eyes shimmered with pink sparkles.
“Sweetest stars, there you are,” he breathed, like he’d been searching his whole life.
“Oh no,” I gasped, my stomach dropping.
Behind him came more—another guard and someone who had to be a courier, because he was carrying a half-crushed box in his hands.
All of them blinking at me with glassy, lovestruck expressions.
I glanced around quickly. There was no way—I froze when I saw the ventilation shaft that released into Savla’s workshop.
“That should be moved,” I snapped at him, but he was too busy blocking me from the males to focus on what I was saying.
One guard actually swooned. “You dropped something,” he said, clutching his chest. “My heart.”
“Oh for the love of—this was supposed to be a confidence booster, not a romantic apocalypse!”
The guard who’d spoken first lumbered forward, smiling dreamily. “You smell like the moon.”
“That’s burnt rosemary,” I snapped.
I stumbled backward, tripping over a basket of dried nettles that I’d left on the floor of the workshop before righting myself and holding my hands out. “Everyone just—stay where you are, okay? I can fix this!”
The guard reached out like he wanted to cradle my face. “You don’t need to fix a miracle.”
“Oh, Goddess Mother—don’t you dare—”
The glass storm door of the workshop slammed shut in front of me, locking me in. Or more correctly, locking them out.
Savla filled the frame like a thundercloud, all muscle and dark scowl and the faint scent of cedar. His sleeves were rolled, his hands still dusted with sawdust. “Looks like you brewed public chaos again.”
“Could you help instead of commentating like a street prophet?”
“Why ruin the entertainment?” he asked with a shrug, but he was scowling out at where the males had their faces pressed up against the glass, drawing hearts in the fog their breath made.
I glared at him. “You’re not affected?”
He shrugged. “Nope.”
My jaw dropped.
What the hell. This hadn’t even been for anyone else. It had been for him.
“Not even a little?”
“Nope.”
“Even magically enhanced charms don’t work on you?!”
He smirked. “Guess not. Maybe I’m just built differently.”
“Well, it’s just a minor love-draught!” I blurted. “Very minor!”
His gaze swept the rooftop—the crowd, the pink eyes, the glitter haze—and then landed on me. “Doesn’t look minor.”
“Savla, please—help!”
“Were you brewing that… for me?” he asked instead.
“O-of course not,” I gasped, absolutely lying.
The guard swung open the door and tried to step in front of him. “Sir, you’re standing between me and the light of my existence.”
Savla didn’t even blink. “Move.”
“Love knows no barriers—”
His hand shot out, grabbed the guard by the collar, dragged him and deposited him in the door leading down the stairs like an empty sack of grain. “Out.”
The others hesitated from behind him.
I threw up my hands. “Don’t hurt them! They’re enchanted!”
“I’m aware.” His tone was pure gravel. He pointed at the courier who’d been slinking his way toward me. “You too.”
“But I could carry her! Keep her safe—”
“Try it,” Savla said, voice low.
The courier blinked, then lumbered backward so fast he hit the doorframe.
One by one, Savla herded them out—some by glare, some by grip—until only glitter and the smell of roses lingered. The silence that followed buzzed in my ears.
I exhaled shakily. “I can’t believe that worked.”
He turned, bolting the door. “You’re banned from unsupervised brewing.”
“You can’t ban me,” I gasped, turning on him.
“Watch me,” he gritted out.
I crossed my arms. “I said I was sorry,” I huffed, knowing that I was being petulant, especially after he’d done so much to help me out of the situation I’d gotten us into, but I was still slightly peeved that it hadn’t affected him at all.
“You keep saying that,” he said, stepping closer, voice softer but sharper somehow. “Then you do something worse.”
“I’m not trying to!”
“I know.” His jaw flexed. “You just make it really damn hard to stay away from you.”
That hit like a spell to the chest. “What?”
He cleared his throat. “To stay away from… your mess.”
“Right,” I muttered. “My mess.”
He studied me for a long beat, eyes dark and unreadable. The distance between us felt like a live wire.
“Next time,” he said finally, “lock the door before you blow something up.”
“Next time,” I shot back, “maybe don’t look so smug when you rescue me.”
He paused at the doorway, one corner of his mouth twitching.
“Not smug,” he said. “Prepared.”
I crossed my arms. “You didn’t have to terrify them,” I huffed.
“They were flirting with you,” he insisted, throwing out an arm in the direction that they’d just fled.
“That’s the potion’s fault,” I said with a sniff.
He looked me over, eyes catching briefly on the streak of glitter in my hair that I could see out of the corner of my eye. “Doesn’t matter. It’s still annoying. I don’t like anyone else being up here.”
I exhaled, exasperated. “You know, it would really help my ego if you’d at least pretend to be affected.”
He bent, picking up a spilled vial, the movement slow, deliberate. “You want me to fake being in love with you, Hanna?”
My throat went dry. “N-no. Just… maybe don’t sound so immune,” I defended, hoping and praying that he didn’t figure out that I’d brewed this entire mess of a potion for him.
He set the vial down carefully, then leaned against the counter, close enough for me to smell cedar and smoke clinging to his shirt. “Hate to break it to you, Hanna, but I don’t need magic for that.”
I blinked, confused. “For what?” I asked.
“To notice you.” His response was simple and matter-of-fact, but it stole my breath.
My pulse tripped. But before I could say anything, he turned and stalked toward the door.
“It’s not like you ever leave me alone. It would be difficult to not notice you. Now clean up your mess,” he said gruffly, voice low enough that it almost hid the warmth underneath. “And for the love of the Gods, stop brewing unsupervised in residential areas.”
And then he was gone—leaving me alone in a swirl of glitter and rosewater, heart pounding hard enough to shake the shelves.
The potion had worked on everyone but him. Of course it had. Because apparently, even magic knew he was immune to me. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me in a swirl of glitter.
So much for that plan.