Page 89 of Kissing Potions and Elves

ISOBEL

It’s been three days since I left Lyrion’s manor. I move through the café like a ghost, my heart still raw and aching. Focusing on my work, I set cups of steaming tea onto delicate saucers, forcing a brittle smile on my face as I serve each customer.

But my gaze keeps darting to the door every time it chimes. Each time it swings open, a mixture of hope and dread fills me as I half-expect Lyrion to walk inside.

My chest tightens at the memories of the warmth of his touch, the quiet intensity of his eyes. How could I have been so foolish? He asked only to court me, not marry me.

I was so naïve. I believed courtship meant something deeper… something permanent.

“Isobel, could I get more blueberry scones, please?” Tressa’s gentle voice pulls me from my dark thoughts.

She eyes me in concern. I’m sure she can tell something is wrong, especially after she asked if I expect Lyrion to come by and I told her no.

She’s a good friend, but I’m not ready to talk to anybody about what happened. Not yet, anyway. The hurt is still too fresh.

“Of course.” I turn away, blinking back tears as I make my way to the kitchen. When I return, I busy myself arranging the scones onto a fresh tray.

The door chimes once more, and my traitorous heart leaps yet again. I glance up sharply and see Brakkus’s familiar broad form filling the entrance.

The Orc gives me a friendly smile, his large frame weaving through the café. “Isobel,” he greets in a deep voice. “Can we speak for a moment?”

“Of course.” I guide Brakkus to an empty table tucked away in the corner.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small cloth bundle, placing it into my hands. When I unwrap it, my breath catches.

It’s my mother’s locket. The delicate silver chain has been repaired so well you’d never know it had ever been broken. I smile. “Oh, Brakkus, you did such a lovely job. Thank you so much.”

“I wish I could take credit for this, but it’s Cyran’s work.”

“Cyran?”

“Aye. Lyrion asked me to have the jeweler do the repair.” He shrugs. “He didn’t want you to know. He even gave me a few coins for my trouble.”

He pulls out a small pouch and sets it on the table. “But I didn’t feel right taking it from him. It was no hardship to deliver it to Cyran. He and I are good friends, and I see him oft enough in the tavern.”

I frown. “But… why would Lyrion do this?”

“I believe it was a kindness.” A faint smile tugs at Brakkus’s mouth. “I’ve never found High Elves to be the sentimental type, but I think when he heard it was your mother’s and how muchit meant to you… well, it’s easy to see that Elf has a soft spot for you.”

My heart cracks, emotions swirling painfully within.

He pushes the coin pouch toward me. “Will you give this to him?” I start to tell him that he’ll need to return it to Lyrion himself, but he adds, “When he returns from his trip.”

I blink. “His… trip?”

“Aye. I saw him and his brother leave with an Elf woman a few days ago. I asked where they were going and he said they had business back in Rivenyl.” Brakkus’s brow furrows. “I thought you would have known this. Aren’t the two of you—”

“No. Not… anymore.”

“I don’t mean to pry”—Brakkus’s frown deepens—“but did something happen?”

“No,” I reply, unable to hide the quaver in my voice. “It was just… a misunderstanding.”

Brakkus’s expression darkens. “What sort of misunderstanding?” he growls. “You just say the word and that Elf will be”—he glances around the room and then leans in—“disappearedinto the woods,” he says in a voice so low only I can hear.

I blink several times, wondering if he means what I think he does, when he confirms it by adding, “Permanently.”

My jaw drops.