Page 9

Eight

Iris Kettlewick raised her head and stopped twirling a strand of hair around her finger, before sliding a pair of half-moon spectacles down her long nose and scrutinizing Lira over them for a beat. Then her face cracked into a smile. “Lira!”

The woman hurried around the counter, her voluminous patchwork skirt billowing around her legs. She pulled Lira into a hug, the scent of herbs and fragrant oils a pungent cloud that clung to her like always. The aroma slammed into Lira, transporting her right back to being a young girl visiting Iris's dark and mysterious shop. She breathed in the memories and sank into the embrace.

But the apothecary released Lira as briskly as she’d snatched her into her arms, her smile slipping as she inventoried her at arm’s length. “You’ve fared well then, love?”

Lira produced her own smile, even if it felt tight. “Still alive.”

Iris snorted as she put her hands on her hips. “I suppose that’s the important thing.” The woman whipped around, her skirt following a beat behind as she returned to her counter and waved for Lira to follow. “Are you here for a visit or back for good?”

Lira didn’t know how to answer that. When she’d set out for Wayside after wandering aimlessly for months, she hadn’t thought about how long she’d stay or if there was even anything left for her in the village. She’d returned because it had once felt safe, it had once been home. But really, she hadn’t thought before she’d started walking, her feet leading her back as if pulled by an unseen force.

She thought about what was buried under the tavern. Maybe that last part was true.

“I don’t know,” she finally answered, resting her hands on the polished counter.

Iris made a knowing sound in the back of her throat. “You’re not with your companions any longer?”

Lira gave a curt shake of her head, hoping the woman would leave it at that.

She did.

“Well, then.” Iris pushed her spectacles to the top of her head, tamping down some of her unruly curls and exposing more of the silver. “I suppose this calls for tea.”

She nudged aside thick brown curtains covering a doorway, holding one side up just high enough for a person to slip through. “Come on, then. You know where I keep the goodies.”

Lira didn’t need to be told twice. It felt like no time had passed since Iris had first invited her into the shop’s back room, but she felt just as special slipping through the curtains this time as she had when she was a girl.

Ducking her head, she passed under Iris's arm and straightened on the other side, her breath instinctively catching. Here the scent of potions was faint, replaced by the smells of old paper and crumbling leather from the hundreds of books that lined the walls and reached to the ceiling. A large, round table dominated the middle of the room, the surface cluttered with open books, empty teacups, and plates that held nothing but crumbs.

Iris stopped short when she followed Lira, resting one hand on her hip as she shook a finger in the air. “Who ate the last of my breakfast?”

Lira held her breath, her gaze sweeping the back room that was as large as the front one. A pair of overstuffed, brocade chairs hunched in the far corner, angled toward a side table that was also a jumble of books. In the other corner was a towering, gilded cage with a curved top and multiple swinging perches inside, all of them empty. Above them, a pair of skylights let in sunbeams that bounced off the gold-embossed spines of the books.

“I didn’t think I’d have company today,” Iris said before a flock of tiny, winged creatures emerged from within the shelves and started fluttering overhead.

Lira laughed as she watched the iridescent wings flash shades of green and pink as some soared back to their cage and others continued to dart from shelf to shelf.

Iris shook her head, but her smile was pleased. “They remember you.”

“I’d hope so.” Lira held up a finger so one of the bookwyrms could land on it. “I used to sneak them enough of my cookies.”

Iris snorted a laugh but wagged a finger at the tiny creature perched on Lira’s finger that looked like a cross between a baby dragon and a hummingbird. “If they get too fat they won’t be able to fly to the top shelves.”

“Then maybe someone shouldn’t leave her breakfast out.”

Iris slid her gaze to Lira, her eyes flashing amusement and then softening as she watched the bookwyrm nuzzle Lira’s hand. “You’ve been missed, love.”

Lira focused on the creature balanced on her finger to keep tears from springing to her eyes. She’d kept herself busy pulling off heists and quests so she wouldn’t have time to miss the village, her friends here, the bookwyrms she’d adored as a child, her gran. But it hadn’t taken long for her to remember all the things she’d tried to forget.

“The shop looks like it’s doing well.” She managed a smile as she wiggled her finger. “These little guys seem to be doing their job of keeping your books clean—if not organized.”

Iris sighed. “Bookwyrms eat dust, they don’t alphabetize.”

Lira didn’t remind the woman that the bookwyrms only existed in her backroom because they were the result of an experiment gone wrong. Luckily, the errant magic had created creatures with an innate appetite for dust and the ability to nibble it from the spines and pages of books without doing any damage. As far as Lira knew, Iris hadn’t tried any magic spells since.

Iris left Lira as the bookwyrms started to land on her shoulders, slipping through an archway leading even farther back that wasn’t covered with a curtain. “Good, the tea is still hot.” She returned holding a copper kettle and pulled two floral teacups from a shelf. She poured steaming liquid into them and rested the kettle on a trivet waiting on the wood table. “Now where did the cookie tin go?”

Lira lowered her hand so the bookwyrm could hop off it and onto a pile of books. Then she picked up one of the teacups and blew on the steaming surface. “If I gave you a list of ingredients, could you make me a blend?”

Iris cocked her head. “A potion or a poultice?”

“A tea.”

The older woman glanced at her own cup. “A tea?”

“I drank a tea blend when I was in The Wild Reach called chai.” Lira shivered as she thought of the desolate lands that flanked a stormy cove called Siren’s Refuge, but warmth suffused her as she remembered the spicy, milky tea that the gnomes had offered them.

“Does it have powers?”

“Not beyond warming you from tip to tail.”

Iris twisted a curl around one finger. “Give me your list, and I’ll find what you need. ”

Lira took a sip of her tea, the drink comforting, even if it was bland. “I take it your cures are still evading the notice of anyone who might object to the use of magic?”

Iris sniffed at this. “My cures aren’t potions, even if they are impressively effective. Anyway, magic isn’t outlawed.”

Of course, it couldn’t be, since some creatures naturally possessed elemental magic. Like elves, Lira thought even as she tried not to feel bitter that her elf blood wasn’t enough to give her powers. Powers that would have been helpful many times over the years.

“Teaching it is, though,” Lira reminded her. That was why the magical guilds had been disbanded and spell books had slipped into legend. The lairds of The Known Lands had feared the growing spread of dark magic among the mages and the potential of the magical guilds to wield more power than them. In a single proclamation, they’d disbanded the guilds, outlawed the teaching of magic, and confiscated every spell book they could find. Old mages laid low and new mages could not be trained, so their kind became as rare as the enchanted stones they’d used and potions they’d concocted.

But, as with everything forbidden, it could not be snuffed out. It only became shrouded in more secrecy, its practice the stuff of whispers and rumors. Lira glanced around her. Or back rooms.

Iris stiffened, straightening so that she looked even taller than she was. “What I taught you wasn’t magic, either. It was practical.” She cut a glance toward the bookwyrm cage. “Besides, I had to teach you better technique after I caught you trying to pick the lock and let them out.”

Lira remembered that. She also remembered the hours she’d spent with Iris learning to pick locks, disarm traps, and even throw daggers. “Why did my gran let you do it?”

This flustered the woman, and she clattered her teacup onto the table. “I was her dearest friend. She knew I only wanted the best for you.” She paused, not meeting Lira’s gaze. “And she knew you would never want to run a farm like she did. Not when you were…”

“Part elf,” Lira finished for her .

Iris raised her head defiantly. “Your gran knew you were special, and not only because your father was an elf.”

Lira had never felt special. She’d felt different. How could she believe she was special when she hadn’t been able to save her friend? But that wasn’t something she wanted to tell Iris. Not yet.

“Running a farm isn’t so bad,” Lira said, thinking about gathering eggs from the hens and helping her gran churn butter. Things had been simple, but they’d been happy.

“But you had to leave and see what was beyond Wayside to know that.”

Lira hated how the truth of that statement stung. Before she could ask Iris more, the bell in the main shop trilled and a familiar voice called out, “Lira? You here?”

She had forgotten about Sass.