Page 69 of Potion of Deception (Potion of Deception #1)

UNDER THE MOONLIGHT

V iolette's eyes found Dante sitting by the pond – something dull and sad was in the way he bowed his head, the way his dark silhouette looked against the reflection of the moon in the water. It made her stop on the last step.

Alone. Obscured by darkness. It was so him. She's been wondering what his thoughts were occupied by.

Stepping on the wet ground, she walked forward. Dante’s eyes were lowered to his own reflection on the water surface – the only thing he could see himself in.

Violette cleared her throat and he slowly turned his head.

His face – calm and loosened up, she didn't remember if she saw him like that before.

He looked like there wasn't really something on his mind at the moment but Violette felt like something strange was lingering over him.

Maybe, his mind was clear of the dark plans and his eyes were free of mischievous demons but she felt his thoughts were consumed by something else.

“The potion is nearly ready,” she announced, locking her palms together.

Dante angled his head to the side and leaned slightly back, pressing his hands to the ground. “Very well.” His voice was smooth as the water surface on the pond.

He wasn't in a hurry to get up. His eyes were staring in the darkness of the night beyond. Violette took a step, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and then she silently sat next to him.

“Well–” she tried to start a conversation but he cut her off too soon to continue her thought.

“You look happy when you make potions,” he said, not taking his eyes off the distance. “Why potion shop?”

She looked at him with a bewildered expression. His eyes finally met hers – so dreamy, two wanly twinkling sapphires, almost black as the night itself.

“Why did you decide to work in a potion shop?” he clarified.

She was caught off guard with this question, though there wasn't much mystery about it. Thinking for a bit she absently said, “I think it makes me closer to my mother.”

Dante bent his head staring, inviting her to continue.

Violette swallowed. “She loved brewing potions and experimenting.

I liked it too but I think I started to take it seriously because it connects me to her even if she's no longer with me. I could feel her when I make potions, I can feel like…” she faltered for a second, trying to find the right thing to say, to find the word that would describe that precise feeling, “like she's still with me.

She taught me how to make potions. She hadn't had a lot of time to show me everything…” She gnawed on her bottom lip.

“I still have her notes with potions and spells and every time I open it I feel like she's talking to me and teaching me again,” Violette's eyes lowered to the ground, while Dante’s were wandering on her face.

“She was a wond erful and talented wizardling. Days in her sanctum always were like a magic portal to somewhere else. And she loved the shop I work at right now; she always went there when we had our family weekend.” A faint smile appeared on her face as the warmth of those days went down her skin, nostalgia wrapped her in its arms.

“Family weekend?” Dante's forehead slightly crinkled.

She raised her gaze to him and her smile grew brighter.

“Once a week me and my parents used to walk to Wonder Alley to stroll and visit different shops.

My father would always go to the store for parchments and quills, and my mother would always check up on the potions shop, and me…

I'd always follow her like a tail.” She tipped her head, her eyes twinkled like the stars.

“This store seemed like the most magical place to me. There was a terrible and disgusting smell every time,” she softly chuckled as she tucked her knees, “but I was mesmerized by the sparkling liquids in the vials. Some of them changed their color, fizzed, bubbled and mysterious steam flowing around was wrapping me up, while various wizards and witches in fancy hats gathered around. There was a small corner with floral ingredients, and it always smelled like violets…Her favorite flower.”

Dante tore his gaze away and returned it to the distance ahead over the pond.

Violette's voice, silky and mellifluous, continued curling up the air, “We'd meet with dad on the main street after, visit the bookstore, and then we'd walk together to our favorite street cafe, where he always ordered his favorite crumpets with butter, and mom drank hot violet chocolate.”

“You really love your parents,” he simply said, his voice devoid of emotions, yet, she felt his ease; his tone was as smooth and gentle as a warm summer night’s breeze.

“They're everything to me…” Her eyes sparkled at Dante, a smile changed with a pondering hanging up on her lips. “Do you miss yours?”

“Sometimes, but I wouldn't want them to be alive right now.” He could already feel curiosity sprawling in Violette, so he answered faster than she could ask the following question, “I don't want them to know this side of me.”

“They died before you turned into a vampire?” She bowed her head.

“No, not really…” his brows knitted together. “They saw me as a vampire but since then I have made a lot of mistakes and things I wouldn't want them to know.” Finally their gazes locked together before he broke it again. “They already died with such a bad opinion about me.”

“You know…” Violette's voice became soothing.

“It sounds stupid but my dad always tells me that parents will always love you.

If they were good parents I think they wouldn't judge you like others, especially if they'd known it brought you pain too.” It was not really clever to assume but the love her parents gave her seemed like this.

He gravely smiled and closed his eyes, raising his head.

“I’m not scared they will judge me, I have more reasons to judge them anyway.”

“Why?” she asked.

He didn't open his eyes, nor did he say anything. She was silly assuming he would answer her on this question. So she asked another one:

“What were your parents like?”

“They were…nice.” His voice sounded dry.

Lowering his head, he continued, “My father wasn't the best father, but he was a good king. He taught me everything he knew to make me a perfect heir to the throne. And my mother—” he fell silent for a second, “she was a great parent. But she was not a kind person.”

Violette blinked as he side-glanced at her.

“She did bad things thinking only about herself and had never…acknowledged this.” Dante hid his gaze, burying it into the ground beneath them. The gloom woke up in his eyes, making Violette's heart almost ready to sympathize with him.

“Did she love you?”

“Oh, yeah…” A chuckle fell from his lips and his eyes again slipped away. “She loved me. I'd never doubted her love.”

“Then…Maybe she was doing something that she thought would be better for you?”

“Then she was terribly wrong.” The familiar coldness in his tone seemed to awake.

“Nobody said parents are always right,” she let out merrily. Naive of her to think it would cherish his mood .

He bowed his head and a subdued smile lit up the corners of his lips.

Violette quickly swayed her gaze away and raised her head towards the night sky.

Chirps of crickets followed the rustle of leaves caused by a light wind.

Violette's wavy hair tickled her cheeks as she blinked at the stars above them – their bright light against the saturated dark blue sky felt fascinating.

They were just sitting for a few moments like this; no one decided to drop a word. It was not needed.

Dante's back cracked as he stretched and finally started to rise from the ground.

“Come on, Little Witch,” he said airily and Violette stood up while straightening the folds on the skirt.

Little Witch...

Maybe it was the way he said it at the moment, or maybe it was just this nickname but it brought warmth to her soul, as if her heart was wrapped in a soft blanket. And…she liked it.

They were once again standing by the little potion table over the black pot with the teal liquid inside. Violette poured the ready potion into a crystal multifaceted bottle with the ladle. Her hand slipped in the bag for the map as Dante stopped her with his hand.

“Not here.”

“Why? I thought you trust Lamia.” She batted her lashes twice .

“I don't trust anyone. She's good but I don't want to let my guard down. It would be overhasty.”

The creaking of the wooden stairs interfered with their conversation, followed by the witch's footsteps and both Dante and Violette closed their mouths before she reached the floor.

“Finished with your potion?” Lamia asked with a hint of gaiety in her tone.

Violette pressed her lips and nodded approvingly. And before both of them would exchange another few words Dante aired, “It was nice doing business with you.”

“We both know you don't think so.” Her brow arched in an insolent manner.

“Did it not sound sincere?”

“No.”

“Because it wasn't.” The corner of his mouth twitched upward.

Violette stepped out from the house as Dante already went ahead. The fresh air burst into her lungs. The stars in the sky were still scintillating just as brightly – the night promised to be calm.

“It was nice to meet you, Violette,” Lamia’s gentle voice carried by the wind, and followed by the same smile while she stood on the doorstep.

“You know, I won't say you are lucky to meet Dante but, believe me, there's much worse vampires out there.

At least, he doesn't pretend to be something he is not.”

It was hard to believe these words when Violette knew the truth of his past, but she just responded to her with a faint smile.

“Goodbye, Lamia,” she said kindly, the corners of her eyes lifted.

“May the moon light up your way back home,” the witch said at last as Violette turned around and followed Dante who was already passing the pond.

They were walking to the forest which began not far from Lamia’s house. Finally, Dante stopped and extended his hand, asking for the map.

Violette reached into her bag and pulled out the folded parchment, passing it to him. Then she took out the bottle of the magic potion she'd prepared earlier this evening. The teal liquid sparkled before her eyes as the bubbles inside hissed.

As Dante unfolded the map, two drops of the potion fell on its surface – a purple smoke appeared emanating from the place where it was spilled.

Only a fraction of a second and magic spread throughout the paper, as if removing a protective barrier.

The map began to transform, the pictures began to change – villages, towns, forests began to be replaced by others and finally the map showed its true face.

In the northeast's forest – not far from some old little town – a pulsating purple light indicated their destination.

Golden letters in cursive writing arose on the same spot – Grotto of Spells and Relics .

This was where their way lay, their last journey, unless the Queen decided to lead them into another trap.

Violette had enough mysteries and obstacles on her way, it would be better if it really was their last stop.

Dante appeared unexpectedly serious; Violette had anticipated he would be pleased. Instead, he looked as if the map showed him not the path to liberation, but spat right in his face.

“You know where it is?” she inquired.

“I think two nights from here, maybe less if we hurry up. We'll take a carriage here,” he pointed to the paper, his finger traced higher, “To Turret and then the one to Lagrival, then walk from there through the Dormant Woods.”

Violette thoughtfully nodded. Finally they had a clear plan to follow, finally everything was coming together.