Page 121 of I Ran Away to Evil 3
“I do.” He summoned a crystal in the little space between us, and my system logged it for me. “But I still think we should keep tabs on any bridge nearby, and I’ll meet you there.”
“Okay,” I agreed, turning away quickly so I could get some space and breathe easier.
I crossed the bridge.
With distance between us, it was less awkward to face him. He was standing there, arms crossed, watching me from the path.
“Do you want to come in for tea? Or are you going to wait here until I return?”
The warm smile that lit up Julian’s face made my heart pound in my chest.
“I would love to join you, Miss Gerda.” He stepped onto the bridge, and we met in the middle. With purpose, I reached out a hand to take his arm so that I could teleport us together. Instead, Julian’s hand wrapped around my own, and then he deliberately laced our fingers together. I stared at our hands. Then up at him. He seemed perfectly calm.
Instead of saying anything, I walked us into my kitchen.
CHAPTER 68
Driving Him to Distraction
Julian
There was a pulling sensation and then Julian was stepping with Gerda into a wood-and-stone cottage.
Gerda stared intently at their entwined fingers. He squeezed them once before releasing her and taking a step back.
“Grab a seat, and I’ll make us some tea.” She pointed at the table. If he were entering from the front door, the kitchen would be on the right, the table directly ahead, and a cozy seating area with a fireplace and small library stretching off to the left.
Gerda walked into the kitchen. “Don’t mind me if I pop out to deal with a bridge; now that I’m back, I should start doing my actual job again.”
“I understand.” Julian did as he was told, taking a seat at the table and using the opportunity to openly inspect her dwelling place.
The walls were a collection of painted flower motifs, hanging herbs, and a cascading mushroom display. Bright sun filtered in from a variety of windows in all different shapes and sizes. The largest window was above the sink, overlooking a field of wildflowers.
Each window peered out on a different place. Three small round ones stacked beside the mushrooms overlooked a trickling stream in a dark forest, while another with a warped oval shape had a clear view of the ocean with towering cliffs in the distance and seabirds flying overhead.
The kitchen had a wraparound counter with a collection of knickknacks and potted herbs all over. Gerda put on a kettle and then proceeded to water all of the plants in the kitchen before moving onto the dining area and the living room. There were plants, vines, healing herbs, and even moss growing on a plaque.Gerda watered each diligently, speaking softly to the foliage as she did so. One didn’t survive her absence, and she scooped it into a small bin.
There was only one exit or entrance, an intricately carved wooden door painted with the same flower motif as the walls.
“Is it connected to the bridge we just came from?” he asked, nodding at the door.
Gerda looked up from where she was tending to a collection of glowing mushrooms that grew in a tall, tiered cylinder tucked between her couch and the wall. “No. it’s at”—she glanced at the kitchen window—“the west bridge on the Great Road in Nilheim.”
They lapsed into silence while she wandered back to the kitchen to grab the water. She had an impressive collection of tea set out on top of a glass cabinet filled with different types of mugs and cups, with decorative teaspoons hanging on the wall above.
She grabbed two large mugs, a glass pitcher, and a white teapot with painted mushrooms. Into the teapot she poured hot water and some loose tea leaves. It smelled bitter. Then, she pulled out a jar of honey and drizzled two wands worth into the tea itself, stirring to mix. Unusual, but he waited.
He enjoyed watching her work.
While the tea steeped, she went into a cupboard in her kitchen and grabbed a plate, pulling out of her storage ring two each of soft gingerbread cookies, hard cinnamon biscuits, and slices of dale nut loaf. Taking a small bottle down from the tea shelf, she popped open the stopper. Even from the table, Julian could smell the scent of freshly baked cookies coming from the vial. With a flick, three drops landed in the pitcher. Next came a glass of cold milk from her storage ring and a handful of ice cubes.
She carefully strained her hot tea into the pitcher, stirring it until the milk became a light-brown brew.
“Perfect for a hot summer’s day,” Gerda said, bringing the tray over and placing it down in front of him. It had a small bowl of sugar and two small teaspoons. She sat kitty-corner to him, at the table’s edge.
He took a sip. It was cold and just lightly sweet. “What is it?”
“As close to a London Fog as I can make in this world,” she said, taking a sip for herself. “Some people like to add lavender, but I am not one of those people. You can make it sweeter, if you’d like.”
