Page 46 of Potions and Proposals
She smirked. “Really? We’ve got to shake on agreeing to be reasonable?”
“Need to make it official,” he said. “We’ve agreed to do much worse.”
Lucy rolled her eyes. He clasped her hands, and this time they both stared down at them. The coolness of her water mixed with the heat of his fire made her breath catch.
He released her, and she told herself it was just their magic trying to return to their rightful places.
“Now, what are we going to do about our elements?” Benedict sat unexpectedly close beside her.
“There’s no time like the present. Grams and Mum are probably asleep by now,” she said, looking at her desk. “We’ve got the ingredients in the brewing room.”
“You want to try to redo the potion tonight?” He sounded nervous.
“Got some other pressing matter to attend?” She picked up the list of qualities and the potion ingredients from her untidy desk.
He shook his head. “You’re my number one priority.”
“Good. This is the potion Grams used, and here is the one I found in your family’s old grimoire.” She handed him the notes, only to regret it when he immediately began to read the list of qualities aloud.
“Loyal, kind, capable, passionate… to think your element choose me!” He failed to conceal a smug grin. “How highly you must think of me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself!” She snatched the list out of his hand before his ego ended their truce.
“I don’t have to– your element did it for you.”
Lucy headed for the door. “Let’s get on with it.”
Why is it that whenever you’re trying to be quiet, the floorboards and doors decide to greet you extra loudly?Lucinda wondered as she closed the door to the brewing room behind Benedict. Thankfully, her mum and Grams were in bed, so they shouldn’t be caught.
“The dimmer is on the wall,” she said, pointing to the light switch as she went to gather the ingredients.
“I know. Grams taught me in this room too,” he reminded her.
“Only because you were failing potions in the first year.” Lucy let out a sigh of relief when she saw there was just enough damiana root for one more spell.
“We all can’t be Hawthornes. It’s not exactly a fair competition when you’ve got Grams in your back pocket,” Benedict grumbled, looking over the ingredient list she’d placedon the table. Thankfully the base of the potion was only blessed water from the coven temple, and they had plenty bottled.
“Why can’t you admit that I’m better than you?” She took one of the glass bottles from the cupboard while Benedict began to dice the chickweed and chilli.
“Not at all things,” he whispered at her back, and Lucy nearly added too much rosewater to the cauldron.
They collected the ingredients from the shelves, this time making sure to grab the bat’s blood. Together, they watched the cauldron sizzle and bubble, both too nervous to discuss what they were about to do.
“Almost finished,” Lucy finally said, taking the knife he’d used to dice the other ingredients and pressing the point to her finger. Alarmed, he grasped her wrist.
“Relax. It’s only a drop of blood,” she said, and he reluctantly released his grip on her.
“Is that necessary?” He winced, watching her prick her finger. “We could’ve used mine.”
“Yes– the original potion contained my blood.” Lucy wrapped some tissue around her finger. “If this is going to work, we can’t change anything except for the wrong ingredient.”
Speaking of… She added the bat’s blood instead of black pepper. She’d expected something to change, but the glistening water remained identical to the first potion. She tried to conceal her disappointment, hoping that even if the appearance hadn’t changed, the meaning had.
“Rose petals?” she requested, and Benedict pulled them free from the flowers on the counter. They floated on the surface until Lucy dropped in the rolled list of qualities she’d written out from memory.
“Is that it?” His brows pulled together, but a sharp bang interrupted her response.
Their eyes snapped to the door, afraid the noise would alert the others. When no one came, they both took an audible breath. Benedict swished away the rising smoke and they peered into the empty cauldron, the piece of paper burnt to ash.
