Page 16 of Kissing Potions and Elves (Oakvale Ever After #1)

LYRION

L ying in bed, I stare at the ceiling. Sleep eludes me completely tonight. My mind churns restlessly with thoughts of Isobel.

It’s strange. Ever since she moved in, my headaches have been less frequent. Perhaps it is her warmth and her soft laughter—the way she seems to brighten every corner of this place—that soothes something within me.

I’ve never felt so drawn to someone before.

I sigh heavily. This cannot continue. I shouldn’t be thinking of her like this.

She’s human. Sweet, earnest, beautiful—but still human.

We’re from two different worlds. And yet my traitorous heart stubbornly disregards every sensible objection even as my mind insists that it’s merely the kissing potion at work.

A gentle knock draws my attention. “Come in,” I call out.

Hilda stands in the doorway, regarding me thoughtfully. “Still awake?” she asks as she steps into the room.

I release a slow breath. “How did you know?”

She gives me a warm smile. “Because I’ve watched over you since you were a child.” She pauses. “When you and Isobel came home… I can feel that something weighs heavily on you tonight.”

I recognize her statement as a carefully worded question, and I nod. Hilda is like a mother to me. She always seems to know when I’m troubled about something. “Things between us are complicated,” I admit. “We need to find a way to break the effects of this potion.”

“And you believe that will resolve the… complications?”

I nod.

“What if it doesn’t?” she ventures cautiously.

I sit up in bed. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at Isobel and the way she looks at you. I believe there’s a genuine spark there.” She gives me a motherly smile. “And I’m not quite sure that a potion could be wholly responsible for such things.”

Her gentle observation leaves me both unsettled and strangely reassured. But there’s still the matter of my betrothal.

“My family has expectations. I’m betrothed to Lady Elyssia.” I sigh heavily. “She’s an ideal match. Elegant. Refined. An Elf. We’re not that different from one another.”

“Sometimes differences are a strength in a relationship.” She looks down at her left hand, to the ring she still wears on her finger even though her husband has been gone at least thirty years. “When I was young, I was very shy and reserved. But my Mathyr, he was so vibrant and full of life.”

She smiles wistfully. “He made me feel alive and I tempered some of his wildness.” Her gaze shifts to me. “We were each other’s perfect counterbalance, you see.”

Sadness steals across her expression. “We didn’t have very long together before the war took him from me.

” She rests her hand atop mine, squeezing it gently.

“If I could only give you one piece of advice, it would be this: When you find happiness, you hold onto it, Lyrion. Life is too short to do otherwise.”

Hilda has always had a way of saying things without directly saying them, and I understand exactly what she’s trying to convey. So, I decide to tell her the truth that is weighing on me. “How do I know if it’s real and not simply an effect of the potion?”

Hilda considers carefully before speaking. “Sometimes clarity finds us in moments we least expect it. And often, the heart knows truths long before the mind is ready to accept them.”

Frustrated, I exhale slowly. I must be free of the lingering effects of the potion before moving forward. Otherwise, I’ll never know for sure.

“Between you and your brother, you’ve always been the quiet, contemplative one.” She gives me a faint smile. “Rest now.” Hilda pats my hand and tucks the covers around my shoulders like she used to do when I was a child. “Perhaps tomorrow will bring the answers you seek.”

“Hilda.” I call out, stopping her as she walks toward the door. “I need a favor.”

Her brows lift, but she nods for me to continue.

“Tomorrow, would you go to the shops and pick up a few things for Isobel? A warm cloak, proper boots, and… whatever else you think she might need.” I lower my voice further.

“Make sure they’re of good quality, but don’t tell her they’re from me.

I’d rather she believed they were simply lying in storage or passed along from someone who no longer needed them. ”

Hilda’s eyes soften with understanding, and she gives me a knowing smile. “Consider it done. Goodnight, Lyrion,” she says as she steps out into the hallway. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Blowing out a frustrated breath, I stare out the window at the night sky.

A rustle near the foot of the bed draws my attention. I sit back up, watching warily as Errol leaps gracefully onto the covers, his green eyes glittering with anger as his tail lashes behind him.

“Something bothering you?” I ask dryly even as unease prickles the base of my neck.

“You upset Isobel,” he says accusingly. “What did you do?”

“It was… unintentional.” With a heavy sigh, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I may have inadvertently insulted her.”

Errol’s ears flatten as he digs his claws into the expensive fabric of my quilt. “Unintentional or not, you hurt her. Do you have any idea how lucky you are that she even looks in your direction?”

I stiffen, irritation mingling with the sting of truth in his words. “Careful, cat.”

“No,” Errol growls, pacing in agitated circles, his tail flicking sharply.

“You Elves walk around acting superior, like you’re better than everyone else.

But let me tell you, Lyrion, you are not better than her.

No one is. Isobel is sunshine and warmth and kindness, despite everything she’s endured.

You should be honored, grateful even, that she graces your life at all. ”

Before I can respond, Errol deliberately flexes one sharp claw and slices a line down one of my finest embroidered pillows, tearing through the delicate silk like paper. He swats it toward me, sending a puff of feathers scattering through the air.

My jaw drops. “What in the seven hells?”

He fixes me with a final, scathing look, then leaps elegantly from the bed and disappears into the hall without another word.

I stare after him, deep regret churning within. With a heavy groan, I collapse back against the mattress, feathers drifting lazily around me.

Shame burns through me, settling like a weight in my chest. I may not be able to take back what I said, but by Vaelar’s blade, I can make sure I choose my words more carefully from now on.

Whatever this spell has tangled between us, I won’t let my frustrations or my own failings hurt her again or make things worse.