Page 60 of Potion of Deception (Potion of Deception #1)
The mechanical lock clicked and a pull-out shelf moved forward to them.
“Can I?” she gasped, her eyes filled with hope for approval to look at it closer.
He spread his hand to give her space.
Violette reached out to the map. She already could feel magic radiant under her fingertips. And as it was in her hands she felt – it was undoubtedly a paper soaked with true sorcery.
“Undeniably an incredible magic object,” she breathed without taking her eyes off. And she didn't lie, it was a perfect example of great magic skill. The witch who did it was decidedly proficient in the magic craft.
“See, I said I'm able to impress you.” The young man leaned toward the glass surface with his elbow. His proud and satisfied smile could brighten up the whole room.
Violette cast a sidelong glance at him.
“If you have this map, why didn't you try to find the witch's hideaway? I thought someone like you wouldn't want to miss a chance to find new magic artifacts,” she said.
He tilted his head to the side. “Oh, believe me I tried.
I talked to many wizards and witches but nobody could make the map show the way to the secret place.
They used some spells and magic powders but nothing revealed its secrets.
In the end I came to terms that maybe it's not enchanted at all, maybe some trick to make others think it's a magic object or the spell is too strong to break.”
He was indeed right, with his second guess, of course: it was a strong spell and the wizards he talked to were definitely not familiar with Heggas’ powers and didn't know it has something to do with a special potion to reveal its magic. A recipe of which she and Dante elicited from the Queen’s spellbook.
“I gave up but I'm happy to have such a thing in my collection, it's still fascinating and impressive,” he said placidly.
“I won't argue with this statement.” She glanced at him right before she bore her eyes into the map again.
“Maybe, y ou can decipher it? Maybe, magic in Chantoret is different and more skilled?” He bestowed her with a charming and irresistible smile.
Violette carefully placed the map back upon the wooden surface. “I'd be happy to look at it. It needs a keen eye for sure.” Clearing her throat, she waved her hand, using it as a fan and blurted, “It's quite stuffy here, isn't it?”
“Perhaps a drink will fix it?” the man said, pointing his chin to a crystal jug and two glasses on the sill.
Meanwhile Lord Adrogans was locking the shelf, Violette hurried to the window. The drink in the jug seemed to be cool. Apparently, it was brought here right before their appearance: she noticed the young Lord talking to the courtier before they left the ballroom.
Violette's fingers clenched around the handle of the jug and as she poured the champagne into the glasses, she quietly took out a bottle of potion from her hidden pocket.
She had to be quick and nimble. Two drops of the almost transparent liquid fell into one glass, dissolving in the drink between the bubbles.
The lock snapped.
Her heart almost flipped. She quickly took the drinks, shaking his glass lightly so that the potion blended better.
The knot tied in her stomach again as her eyes dropped to the bubbles.
It still felt awkward deceiving the man who had been nothing other than kind and hospitable to her.
He turned around just in time for her to extend him a drink.
“Thank you,” he said as his lips touched the glass, her eyes gandered at him from under her forehead. “You know you can come visit anytime you want, and stay as an honorable guest.” He sipped on the champagne again. Violette was ready to breathe out with relief but held on to her rejoicing.
The sleeping potion usually works almost immediately, in a span of two minutes, sometimes less.
At first, the person feels light weariness, then as the potion begins to spread throughout the body, they feel like their eyelids become heavy and then they fall asleep.
Generally, the dream is strong but not really long, approximately four to six hours.
Violette curled her lips and nervously sipped from the glass, hoping that the potion would work soon.
“The room has become stuffier, or so it seems to me?” He yawned. “The evening started not a long time ago.” He looked at the champagne in his glass with confusion and shook it a little before taking one more sip.
“Maybe, you're just tired,” she suggested, holding her lips together in a meek smile .
And finally he started to close his eyes. Yes! She swung and caught him before he'd fall on the floor. Afterwards, she dragged him to the chair and laid him there in a casual position, then took a step back to see what her work looked like.
“I think alright,” she murmured, swaying her head.
Everything should look like he just fell asleep and nothing of this even happened.
Violette hurried to the glass shelf.
“Where did he put that key?”
She went back to the young man and looked at the inside pocket of his coat.
Her fingers groped something small inside the fabric.
Excellent. A little bronze key glistened in front of her eyes.
Her legs rushed to the shelf, her chest tightened – anyone could knock on the door any moment – she must hasten.
The lock clicked for the third time this evening. Her hands were trembling but she was able to take out a small pouch of powder that helps identify magic, to make sure – just in case – that it was an authentic map.
It started glowing with gold light for a few seconds, confirming its origin.
Then she cast a copy spell with her magic wand.
This map will never lead someone to the magic place – it wasn't magical at all – but it'll make a good decoration, at least nobody's going to know the real map was stolen.
With a few finger moves she folded the real one in four.
Her hands froze: she didn't know where to put it – her pockets were too small. After a short moment she decided to shove it in her tight corset. Now she really felt like a thief, her stomach curled. She reminded herself to not think about it and focus on her mission, putting the key back inside the Lord’s pocket.
The fresh cold air entered the room as Violette opened a window, relief shawled over her shoulders.
The glasses! She forgot to get rid of the evidence.
Dante said he'll take care of the servants not seeing them but she has to make sure Lord Adrogans will not remember anything and there will be no signs of someone in this room, except himself.
She bolted to the table, grabbing the champagne glasses and poured the remains of the fizzing liquid in a flowerpot by the window, same with the jug.
It was time to recollect the spell of converting. A deep breath fell from her lips and the wand shuddered over the glassware. In a second it turned into two blank pages and a pen. Violette gasped with relief.
Time to get out. Her palms pressed onto the windowsill, eyes dropped down – it wasn't really high, she suspected it was a third floor, however she still decided to be careful.
Dante told her to give him a signal by a violet flash of light in the air.
Just with a few quick flashes he appeared right under the window.
If not for the mask on his face she'd really forget he is a vampire and can move this fast. Especially, when he was wearing that suit, standing beneath the window like a prince in a fairytale.
He looked so good in this light, like a total beautiful stranger.
“Ready, princess?” His voice sounded beautiful as well, the only thing that pulled her out of the dream was his grin. The princes do not grin. At least not in the fairytales she was reading in her childhood, maybe something changed since then.
He took the promised rope, though Violette still had wished she could get down with magic. It was safer and more habitual for her.
The vampire threw the rope in the air, making it easier to catch. As she secured the knot, her hands pulled it repeatedly. As soon as she made sure the fastening was safe enough to climb down, her gaze dragged to the ground again. Dante just checked if nobody was around.
“It looks slippery,” she squeezed and swallowed her cowardice before throwing her leg over the windowsill.
It wasn't an easy thing to do – a dozen petticoats were making it much more difficult.
Frankly, she remembered she can adjust the length.
With a quick spell the skirt became a bit lower than her knees.
Her fingers twisted over the rope and then she jumped through the window.
Her legs were in the air just for a split second before she pressed them into the wall, beginning to slowly slide down.
“Can you move quicker?” Dante's voice came from below.
“I'm trying to!” she quietly hissed.
“Jump in. ”
“I am fine,” she panted, struggling as suddenly her leg slipped from the wall and the rope swayed. Violette tightened over the rope praying to not fall onto the ground, and continued her way down.
“You're wasting our time. We should be quicker,” Dante complained.
“Ohh, excuse me for not practicing fleeing from the window everyday. Next time I'll be more thoughtful.” She groused, glancing back to measure her progress. She really wasn't fast, but the thought of breaking her leg clearly wasn't attractive. Dante was undeniably immortal, but she's certainly not.
“Just jump. I'll catch you,” he pressed.
Violette hissed, “I don't trust your lying ass!”
“It's nice to know you're thinking about my ass up there, but I was planning to catch you with my hands. If you please.”
She sighed with disbelief at what she was about to do in a second and took a deep breath – he was right – if she would be that slow the guards would make a circle and would catch them like this and she had no idea how to explain herself.
Her grasp on the rope tightened. She pushed away from the wall with both feet, and with her eyes shut, she began to fall.