Even unconscious, my customer’s master carried a certain elegance, but he wasn’t at all what I had imagined. I would have thought him older, wiser, less… troubling. He had clearly pushed his magic too far without replenishing it.
“You see too much good in people,” Aignan grumbled. “Yeun’s a coward, that’s all. He abandoned us, and I’d bet this sorcerer doesn’t belong to any kingdom.”
Aignan gave the sorcerer’s side a none-too-gentle kick with his hoof. I ran a hand over my forehead. If I didn’t act, I was going to have a dead sorcerer on my floor. The thought sent a chill through me.
“Aignan, check if he’s still breathing!” I ordered, making my way through shards of broken glass toward the meager ingredients behind my apothecary’s counter.
Aignan dragged his hooves reluctantly, clearly less than thrilled by the task.
I lit the cauldron and tossed in fragments of sucre d'or, pale as dawnlight. The crystals melted into a thick syrup, warm with honeyed glints. My hands trembled as I reached for a bundle of lavender and a few butterfly pea flowers that the Cursed had so neatly set back on a shelf. That should stabilize and calm his magic enough to let him regain consciousness.
“Excuse me,” I said to one of the Cursed.
The many-tailed creature’s lashes fluttered. She opened her mouth in a perplexed little “o” before letting out a brief,dissonant cry, like badly tuned birds. I was fairly certain this Cursed was a she. I crushed the flowers quickly, the well water already boiling in the cauldron.
After all, anything could be turned into poison. It was only the dose that decided whether it was a remedy or venom.
“I need a flask,” I muttered, not really expecting an answer.
To my surprise, the Cursed golem clumsily held out a jar far too large for the task.
“Thank you,” I blinked, taking it all the same.
I didn’t have time to work miracles, so I hoped this violet syrup, with its spring-sweet scent, would be enough. I poured the liquid, holding my breath. What if it didn’t work? What if my makeshift brew failed, leaving me with a dead sorcerer—and worse still—the weight of my own failure?
If only Nyla were here.
The floorboards groaned under my weight as I knelt beside him. The air thickened, heavy, making every breath harder to draw. I brushed aside a lock of his hair, revealing a face of unsettling serenity. Angular features, almost princely. My heart skipped. He was handsome and far less threatening like this.
“Is it just me, or are you turning pink?” Aignan grumbled, exasperated. He gave me a sharp nudge with his horn to snap me back to reality. “You’re not that stupid, are you?”
It wasn’t my fault that all the men in the village were either married, old, or crushingly dull. I shoved Aignan away and took a deep breath, parting the sorcerer’s lips gently to let a few drops of the violet potion slip inside.
“Please don’t die. Don’t turn into a corpse… or worse, a Category Nine Cursed. Don’t die, don’t?—”
“If only you knew what you were doing.”
The sorcerer’s eyelids fluttered, then he fixed me with a piercing gaze, cold as frozen winter lakes. Aignan and I jolted back in unison.
“You… you’re awake?”
He sat up slowly, one hand pressed to his temple. “You should never plead while casting a spell. Words have power, and negatives cancel out positive effects. But I suppose a novice like you couldn’t understand that.”
“I’m healing you, and you insult me?” I burst out.
Aignan sniffed with open disdain. “Nothing to blush about, clearly.” He waved a paw lazily toward the many-tailed Cursed, who had frozen mid-task. “You, sew my cushion properly this time.”
The sorcerer rose with an ease almost unnatural for someone who had been unconscious seconds before. His oppressive aura seemed to lighten a little as his strength returned. “Well, I’m standing, am I not? You’ve succeeded. Congratulations.”
His gaze cut straight through me again, studying me as though I were just another oddity in his world, or as if he hadn’t expected me to pull it off.
“Applause would be in order, but you see, I’m tragically allergic to displays of joy,” he drawled, the shadow of a predatory smile curling at the corner of his lips.
My eyes widened. Not a word of thanks, no recognition—only that lazily cruel stare that made me feel like an insect pinned under glass.
“What happened to you?” I asked, sharper than I’d intended.
“Exorcizing Cursed all night has its consequences.”
