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There’s an incantation that goes along with this step, and supposedly, invoking this spell will cause the potion to burn away and leave only the magic-coated amulet behind.

Simple enough.

I add more water to my mixture, whispering the incantation under my breath as I do so. And then I stir and stir until my sludge turns into a lumpy liquid. It looks a little greener as a liquid too, so that’s a win.

It’ll have to do.

I grab a small clay pendant with swirls stamped onto the front. It was a cheap knickknack I bought at a street fair in Berkeley, but it’s unusual and pretty. And if this all goes well, it will be an amulet.

I worry my lower lip as I look at my concoction. After a moment, I drop the pendant into the mixture.

This is going to work, I tell myself.

Taking a deep breath, I hold my hand over the bowl and begin.“I call on earth and air…”My power rises, called by my intent and the incantation. “Wash away weakness”—the soft orange magic flows down my arm and out from my palm before settling over the liquid—“from beings wicked and intent unkind…”

As I watch, my power sinks into the potion, making the liquid luminesce.

I finish the incantation with “keep me safe; keep me whole.”

BANG!

The potion explodes like a shot, liquid splattering everywhere.

Shit.

I cough, waving away the odious hazy smoke. Once it clears, I peek inside the cauldron. Then I groan.

Sitting at the bottom is a lump of what looks like fossilized poop.

Do I have to touch it?

After a moment’s hesitation, I reach in and scoop the amulet from the cauldron. On a positive note, at least my clumpy concoction is all gone. I mean, the rest of the kitchen is now covered with it, but we’re not going to focus on that.

At the sight of the amulet in my hand, Nero curls his lips back.

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad,” I say, dropping my smoldering pendant back onto the counter.

But it is. It really is.

* * *

I’m at the kitchen’s industrial sink, humming while I wash the last of the utensils I used. I try not to notice the heavy disappointment settled in the bottom of my stomach, sitting there like a stone.

This was simply a first try.

I’ll get it next time.

“Cleaning cookware, my queen? This is what you gave me up for?”

I scream and spin, throwing the wooden spoon reflexively at the voice.

Memnon leans against the doorway to the kitchen, his frame taking up most of the space. He catches the utensil in his fist, but his eyes remain fixed on me.

How long has he been there?

Now is probably not the time to notice yet again just how smoking hot Memnon is, butfuck, the goddess blessed him a little more in that department than she did the rest of us.

Then, at some later date, she must’ve regretted that blessing and cursed the hell out of his fate to make up for it.