Page 52 of Kissing Potions and Elves

Once it’s done, I throw a pinch at Tressa and Cyran.

They blink in confusion for a moment before coming back to their senses.

“Stars in heaven!” Tressa gasps. “I can’t believe I did that.” She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t even fancy High Elves. They walk around thinking they’re the gods’ gift to the seven realms.”

I purse my lips, choosing to ignore the slight, while Cyran apologizes profusely to Isobel.

Sighing heavily, I push two pouches of the antidote toward Cyran and Tressa. “I need you to take this and fly overhead, scattering it over the square. Can you do that?”

They both nod and then fly over the festival, scattering the golden dust across the crowd, gradually calming their outlandish behaviors.

After a few minutes, the villagers stop, their confusion giving way to embarrassed laughter. Sheepish apologies echo through the square as everyone begins tidying up the aftermath of their destruction.

Cyran claps Brakkus warmly on the shoulder, chuckling as he apologizes to him and Isobel again for his dramatic display.

Brakkus grunts, his lips twitching with reluctant amusement.

Tressa approaches me, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. “I can’t believe I threw myself at you,” she says, covering her face.

I’m tempted to point out that she has yet to apologize for her disdainful remarks about High Elves but decide to let it go. “All is forgiven.”

We join the rest of the villagers, working together to clean up the destruction. When we’re finished, Mayor Finley walks up to Isobel. He holds the blue ribbon out to her. It’s covered in frosting. “I forgot to give you this.”

“Thank you, but I can’t accept it.” She winces. “Especially after what happened.”

“Nonsense,” he smiles, placing it in her hand anyway. “It was an honest mistake.” He claps a hand on her shoulder. “Besides, look how your magic pulled us all together.” He gestures to the villagers now gathered around the tables, drinking cider and laughing merrily as they discuss what happened. “No harm was truly done, Isobel.”

“You can play a round of cards with us, Finley,” Ms. Fenwick calls out. “But only if you promise not to sing.” She winks and they both laugh.

He turns back to Isobel. “See?” He shrugs. “I can’t remember the last time we had a festival this exciting.” He grins. “I’m sure we’ll be talking about this one for years.”

He walks over to his friends and Isobel glances at me. “I’m going to clean up. I’ll be ready to leave shortly.”

Before I can answer, she’s already disappeared back into the café.

I’m about to follow her, but Brakkus calls out, stopping me abruptly.

I turn to face him with a curious look.

“Thank you for showing restraint toward Cyran.” He gives me a toothy grin. “I would have hated to pummel you in front of Isobel. Especially since you two are courting.”

I don’t point out to him that I doubt he could best me in a fight. Instead, I reply, “We’re not courting. She’s merely… assisting in my work.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

He crosses his massive arms over his broad chest. “Well, if this ‘assisting’ in any way breaks her heart, you and I are going to have a problem. Do you understand?”

My indignation flares, but I tamp it back down. This is the third time he’s threatened me, regarding Isobel. But his concern for her is admirable, and I respect it. “Perfectly.”

“Good.”

With that, he walks away, and I turn back to the café to check on her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Isobel,” Tressa calls out as she leaves through the back door.

“Alright.”