Page 90 of Summer of Sacrifice

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 châlet, 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.”

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