Page 31 of Kissing Potions and Elves (Oakvale Ever After #1)

LYRION

I rub a weary hand over my face as I stare down at the potion book. It’s the weekend, so we’ve had an entire day of trying to figure out a way to undo the kissing potion.

Sighing heavily, I rub my temples, hoping that will dull the headache beginning to form as frustration twists in my gut.

“You look absolutely miserable,” Rhystan says as he leans casually against the doorframe.

Just behind him, Errol strolls in as though he owns the place, tail held high, eyes glittering with mischief.

Perfect. Just what I need. The two of them seem to love to pair up so they can tease me.

“I assume you’ve had no luck with your potion troubles?” Rhystan arches a brow. “Or perhaps you’re pining over your pretty human companion.”

“I’m not pining over anyone,” I grumble irritably. “I’m just eager to break this spell so that things can get back to normal.”

“That kiss you gave Isobel yesterday suggests otherwise,” Errol says as he hops onto the table, and the tips of my ears flush with warmth.

“He has a point.” Rhystan smirks. “I saw it too.”

Heat scorches my cheeks at the memory of Rhystan discovering us kissing passionately against the cherry tree. “You know I cannot help it,” I say primly. “The potion—”

“I’ve seen how you look at her, Lyrion. You can blame magic all you want, but I don’t think that’s the only reason you’re drawn to her.”

“Enough,” I snap. I look over his shoulder. “Speaking of Isobel… where is she?”

“Out in the garden with Hilda,” Errol replies. He looks between me and Rhystan. “I think I’ll go join them.”

He leaps gracefully from the table and flicks his tail as he gives me an imperious look. “Oh, and before I forget, c ould you remind Hilda to pick up some more of that delicious fish from the market? I’d like that for dinner again tomorrow.”

I scoff, while Rhystan chuckles as Errol saunters out into the hallway and leaves.

“I like that cat.” My brother grins.

“Of course you do.” I purse my lips. “You’re like two peas in a pod.”

Once Errol’s out of earshot, Rhystan turns to me. “Our parents sent a raven this morning.”

Panic tightens my chest as my mind churns with possible reasons for them to send a message. The one before this suggested they were going to come a bit earlier than expected, and I dread what this one may be about. “What did they want?”

“They want us to attend a ball in Bridgeford. Lord Alvaryus is hosting a grand party at his summer home next weekend to celebrate the engagement of his daughter, Lady Tayra, to Lord Fenrin. Father and Mother cannot attend, unfortunately, so naturally, the responsibility falls to us.”

“ Lady Tayra ?” My mouth drifts open. “Are they serious? I cannot go to her engagement party.”

“Why ever not?” Rhystan’s lips curve up in a knowing smirk as he adds sarcastically, “I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you, Lyrion.”

I narrow my eyes. “I doubt that.”

Rhystan grins. “Do you remember that song she sang to you in front of everyone at the Winter ball?”

“To be fair, I had no idea she was singing it to me, directly,” I point out.

“That’s for sure,” he drawls. “When you offered to make her a tonic to soothe her sore throat, she was mortified.”

“I was trying to be kind.”

“By telling her she was brave to get up there and sing in front of everyone with a sore throat?” He laughs. “You were practically telling her that her voice was terrible, you know.”

“She sounded like a warbling bird. That’s why I thought she was ill,” I stress. “I wasn’t trying to be rude.” I lift my chin. “Besides, she shouldn’t have been serenading me anyway. She knows I’m betrothed to Elyssia.”

“Hope springs eternal.” Rhystan’s grin grows wider.

“You see,” I mutter, folding my arms. “This is why I actively avoid social gatherings.”

“Well, I suppose you dodged an arrow with that one, didn’t you?” He chuckles. “Now Lord Fenrin will be the one that has to live with her warbling.”

I roll my eyes a moment before my expression sobers. “I can’t possibly go to the ball, Rhystan.”

“Why not? I’m sure she’s probably already forgotten what happened. Besides, she’s the one getting engaged now.”

“That’s not the reason,” I stress. “Have you forgotten the proximity spell with Isobel? I literally cannot attend without her.”

Rhystan shrugs nonchalantly. “Then bring her.”

“Bring her?” My voice rises in pitch. “Have you lost your senses? That’d be like walking her into a den of wolves. The Elven nobility will devour her whole.”

“I doubt Isobel will be the only human there.”

I give him a pointed look. “She’ll probably be the only human who isn’t a servant. She’ll be out of place amongst all those vipers, and how in the seven hells will I even be able to explain her presence?”

“Just tell them she’s your research assistant.”

“My research assistant?” I stare at him as if he’s grown a second head. “At a ball? Do you hear yourself?”

“Come now.” Rhystan’s eyes gleam with amusement. “It’s hardly the most eccentric thing you’ve done. The entire nobility already thinks you’re peculiar. It’s well-known you prefer the company of your books to participating in Elven high society.”

I purse my lips. He’s annoyingly correct. I’ve never been one to mingle with nobility. Rhystan is the one who has served as societal ambassador for our family’s interests due to his natural charisma and charm. But still, I dislike the idea of subjecting Isobel to an Elven ball.

“I don’t even dance,” I say tightly, attempting another angle. “Not well, anyway.”

Rhystan smirks. “I’m aware. But it will be fine, Lyrion. Besides, I’ll be there to look out for her too. I like Isobel.”

“What?” I snap as jealousy surges through me.

“Not in that way, Brother.” Rhystan holds up his hands. “Vaelar’s blade, the look on your face. You’re acting like a possessive mate.”

My jaw tightens. He’s right. I need to get a hold of my emotions. “It’s the blasted kissing potion,” I curse.

Rhystan arches a brow. “I’m not so sure it is. And have you told Isobel about Elyssia yet?”

Dread pools in my stomach. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it doesn’t matter.”

“Well, if it’s not important, then why haven’t you told her?” he challenges.

“Because it doesn’t concern her.”

“Yes, it does.” Rhystan gives me an incredulous look. “Perhaps you can’t see it, and stars know I don’t quite understand what such a lovely woman sees in your grumpy Goblin self, but if I had to guess, I’d say she’s falling just as much for you as you are for her.”

“I’m not falling for her,” I lie.

“I wish you’d just accept your feelings instead of blaming them all on the potion.” Rhystan sighs. “But one thing is for sure. You need to inform Isobel about your betrothal, unless… you want to break your engagement.”

“But how can I make that sort of decision when I’m not even sure if my feelings are my own or if they’re a result of this cursed potion?” Frustration burns through me. It always comes down to the same argument. “I wish I knew for sure what’s real and what isn’t.”

Rhystan rests a hand on my shoulder. “I understand what you’re saying, Brother. But I also believe you need to speak to her about Elyssia. If Isobel were to find out from someone else, like say someone at the ball, it would devastate her. She needs to hear about it from you.”

My brother is right. But how can I explain this to Isobel without also acknowledging the way I feel about her? And if I do that, what if when the magic wears off, those feelings disappear entirely?

I should have just told her about Elyssia from the start. Once I tell her of my betrothal, she’ll think I’ve deliberately kept it from her. Which, now that Rhystan has pushed me to recognize it, I realize that I have. After that, she’ll probably want nothing to do with me, even despite the potion.

“Do it soon,” Rhystan urges. “Before it’s too late.”

I exhale slowly, anxiety tightening around me like a vise. The thought of losing Isobel’s warmth, her trust, her quiet laughter, sends an unbearable pang through my chest.

Vaelar help me, I fear I’m already in far deeper than I ever intended to be.