Chapter Two
The shop was always quiet in the early morning hours, only a few regular customers coming by to get their weekly supply—ranging from the deep purple healing potions that cured common ailments when one didn’t have the time for a Master Healer, to the sickly yellow endurance potions.
Both were ever popular amongst the tired working class of Amori City, many seeking that extra boost to simply survive their day.
The quiet of the morning was a time in which I studied for my trials.
Books laid spread out upon the shop counter, my attention drifting between different passages in each—the notebook I had been writing in left to the side as I sipped my tea.
It was warm between my hands, the taste earthy and sweet.
It was originally, in its concentrated form, a potion, but when mixed with boiling water it created a pleasant energy boosting tea.
Made from crushing a bit of the bitter tasting roots of the Tavarrian sunleaf tree found in the southern regions of our kingdom with the sweet frostberries of the north.
It was quite easy to make, and one of the first potions I had ever learned.
Merle had always said that the basics of potion making were more important than the complexities, for if I could remember the simple things, I would always be able to create what was truly needed.
She had woken not long after I had opened the shop, claiming a need for supplies in the market and to make rounds on the patients we took turns visiting within the Old Quarter.
While we were not Healers, potionary work had always been so closely tied with medical care that we helped where we could.
We could not mend broken bones nor could we stitch flesh together, but for those who could not always afford a Master Healer, we could offer pain relief and take care of common ailments.
My mind skimmed the same passage for the third time, no closer to deciphering the text than the last two times I had read it. “Oh for the love of Soli.”
The curse fell quietly from my lips with a groan as I set down the drink, reaching to rub at my temples. “Focus, you idiot.”
The chiming of a bell rang through the shop, startling me from where I sat lost in my books, bringing my attention to two figures that walked through the door.
The first was dressed in fine clothing, his shirt made of silk? Perhaps satin? Whatever it was, it looked soft as sin and was a beautiful, deep shade of carmine against the man’s warm brown skin, threaded with intricate stitches of gold.
Glancing up I was startled to find his gaze already locked on me, his eyes as gilded as the stitching upon his shirt—deep pools of molten gold that seemed to swirl with a thousand emotions.
They seared through me as I took in the dark, unruly waves of hair that were pushed back from his face leaving me a full view of the sharp angles of his cheeks and the light stubble that shadowed his chiseled jaw.
My shadows hissed to life, swarming beneath my skin as I met that gaze once more, realizing he was now expectant.
Had he said something?
“Sorry, what was that?” I fought the flush that warmed my skin, hands fiddling with the pages of the book laid before me.
“I was just saying good morning,” he said, his smile all gleaming white teeth and oozing charm. “Do you mind if we glance around for a bit?”
He gestured to the wooden shelves that housed our premade potions, tucked behind and protected by a thick layer of glass.
“Not at all,” I said. A nagging feeling of unease crept through me as my shadows continued to swarm.
My attention drifted to his companion. A man, if I had to guess from the width of his broad shoulders.
His features were completely shrouded by the cloak he wore, his posture immaculate, even as he leaned casually against a wall near the doorway.
I could just make out the hilts of two swords strapped to his back.
Were they going to rob me? Is that why this unease crept through me, something instinctive warning me to be on alert?
The bell chimed again, but when a familiar face raced through the door, I eased.
“Miss Syraaaaa,” the little girl sang, running to the counter, her father entering the shop not a second later.
“Good morning, Mirabel,” I greeted, leaning over to grab one of the lopsided braids that hung from her head. “It appears your father is getting better and better at doing these for you, isn’t he?”
Little Mirabel, if I remembered correctly, was no older than ten.
Her hair was silver, a silver so pale it was nearly white, the color so distinctly Luanthian.
Her dark skin shone under the lamplight of the shop and her large green eyes stared back as she played with the braids, a toothy grin upon her lips as she said, “I would say so, he’s been getting lots of practice with Mama being sick. ”
I smiled back, albeit a little sadly as Fenrir approached, his hand resting upon his daughter's shoulder. He was a tall man, middle aged, with kind hazel eyes and hair the color of bleached wheat.
“Good morn’ Miss Syra,” his hat was held in his free hand, fingers nervously tapping against the brim.
“Morning Fenrir, you have the day off today?” I asked curiously, not used to seeing him so early.
Usually he was working in the mines north of Amori City.
The only time I saw him was late in the nights after I made my rounds through the Old Quarter, on my walk home.
He’d be covered head to toe in coal dust, but he always had a smile for me, even if it was exhausted.
When I’d visit his wife on my rounds, I’d always been sure to leave a muscle relaxing potion for him.
“Kerlina was in a bad way this morning.” His eyes shifted nervously to the little girl who seemed far more interested in standing on her tiptoes to peek up at my books than eavesdropping. “Is Merle in?”
“Mirabel, why don’t you go pick out two candies today?” Gesturing towards the bowl near the end of the counter, her grin widened as she raced for it.
“Merle’s gone to the market and then she’ll be doing rounds,” I informed, brows knitting together as I pulled a list from beneath the counter, my finger running over the names.“I don’t believe Kerlina’s on her schedule today though.”
I saw the way his shoulders seemingly deflated, the hope in his eyes dimming, and bit my lip.
Snatching up a pen, I quickly scrawled atop the page.
“However, I’m on rounds tomorrow and I promise you she’ll be the first stop I make in the morning.
Why don’t we get you a few potions to make her a bit more comfortable through the night, okay? ”
Head shaking, he glanced nervously about the shop, “I haven’t got the coin for any—”
Waving my hand I leaned in closer, voice low so the two ambling about couldn’t quite hear, “You know that Merle would have my head if I charged someone from the Old Quarter. She only accepts barter and trade from her most loyal customers. And with Kerlina being sick as she is, you can send over some of those meat pies Merle loves in a few months, when things have settled. Don’t stress about it, Fenrir. ”
He gave a hesitant nod, gratitude shining in his eyes before he joined Mirabel by the candy bowl.
She couldn’t quite seem to decide if she wanted a strawberry licker or an apple flame, she already had a chocolate razzle clutched in her hand.
I laughed lightly as I moved towards one of the cabinets, grabbing hold of the keys that jingled in my pocket.
After unlocking it I quickly moved to grab three potions, the first a bright amber liquid with flecks of turquoise swirling within–a fever-reducing potion.
The next was the color of the deep sea, a midnight blue so rich that it nearly appeared black, a sleeping draught, so she wouldn’t be plagued with the night terrors The Fever brought.
The third potion I grabbed was the bright green of a spring meadow, starbursts of orange and pale pink shining through; this one was for Fenrir himself.
A potion to soothe the anxiety and allow him a restful night.
It wasn’t often Luanthian miners were allowed days off–I wouldn’t have been surprised if it was his first for the year.
The least I could do was help bring some peace to it.
Moving back to the counter, I reached beneath for three separate pieces of cloth to wrap the potions within. Fenrir made his way back, Mirabel in tow, her lips and teeth stained a deep red. It seems she had chosen the strawberry licker after all.
“You know the drill by now,” I stated, holding up the first potion, the amber one. “This one is for her fever, and the blue one is to help her sleep tonight, so be sure not to give it to her too early. The green one is for you.”
Fenrir made a noise of protest, but quickly quieted at the look I shot him, continuing to wrap them all up.
“If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to stop by, and let Kerlina know I’ll be there first thing in the morning.”
“Thank you, Miss Syra,” he murmured, taking the wrapped potions. “You and Merle have been a blessing in the Old Quarter,” he said as he leaned in closer, head tilting to the side. “Those two weren’t giving you any trouble before we entered, were they?”
My eyes drifted to that cloaked man once more; he’d hardly moved an inch, it seemed unnatural for a person to be so still.
The other man still moved carefully about the room, eyeing the shelves as he went, but there was something odd to the way he moved.
As if he seemed far more intent upon listening to Fenrir and I than actually inspecting the potions.
“Don’t worry about me,” I reassured, my smile easy. “One scream and the whole block would come to my aid, plus the daggers I have hidden are especially sharp.”
With a nod, and one hard look to the cloaked man, he led his daughter out the door and back onto the street.