Whatever she was grinding up in her mortar, she began to grind harder. “Well, come in then! You’re letting in the damp. Wipe your boots and hang your cloaks. I won’t have you tracking mud all over my shop.”
Rolan glanced up at the Arcanist, expecting to see him puff out his chest and growl about not taking orders from a—what had he called Evaine? Afiendish, meddling woman.
But to Rolan’s surprise, the Arcanist wiped his boots. He hung his cloak on a peg by the door. He didn’t growl a word.
But hedidglower a bit. Experimentally, Rolan tried out a glower of his own, lowering his brow and glancing darkly about in a menacing manner.
“Rolan Strider,” Anaya said, strolling through the beaded curtain dividing the shop front from the living quarters in the back, “what is wrong with your face? Are you constipated again? Been eating too much cheese, have you? I told you not to—”
“Anaya!” His cheeks hot, Rolan abandoned his attempt at intimidation and opted instead for a sunny smile. He started toward Anaya before again remembering where they’d last left things.
Him calling herruined.Her calling himselfish.
He stopped short, his heart stuttering in his chest, his tongue a useless knot. A flush crept up his neck, and for a moment, he didn’t knowwhatto do. What to say. Except, perhaps…
“Sorry,” he whispered. “I’m really sorry, Anaya. I was an idiot.”
She considered him a moment, her shoulders drawn up. But then she let out a breath, her easy, breezy smile flickering across her lips. “Yeah. You really were. And so was I.”
“Nah,” said Rolan with a wide grin. “You were probably right. Iamselfish. It’s one of my best qualities.”
She punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Idiot.”
Behind Anaya, Evaine gazed at them thoughtfully. “If only all the world’s grievances could be so easily healed.” Her eyes shifted to Luc. “What are you doing here, Arcanist? If you’re after your monthly supply of truth salve, it’s at the ducal estate along with the rest of your things.”
Luc inclined his head, just barely, as if the effort of thanking her caused him physical pain. His eyes never strayed from Evaine’s, nor hers from his. They reminded Rolan of two alley cats staring each other down over a dead mouse. He wondered ifhewas the dead mouse.
“The boy wanted to set things right with his, uh, young acquaintance,” Luc said gruffly. “I had a few spare minutes to indulge him.”
Rolan blinked a few times. When had coming to the apothecary beenhisidea? He felt like he was being used, but how, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t like the feeling, and he gave Luc a hard look. The Arcanist gave him a look back, even harder.
“Uh… yeah,” Rolan said slowly. “I wanted to come apologize. That’s what a man does, when he’s offended a lady. Right, Luc? He lectured me about it all the way here.”
He turned a sunny smile on his master, and Luc’s gaze narrowed to a thunderous slit.
“Did he now?” Evaine said cooly. “And how, Arcanist, does a man apologize to a lady?”
Scrape, scrape, scrapewent Evaine’s pestle. Or perhaps the sound was coming from Luc’s grinding molars.
“Well,” he said slowly, “he might start by conceding the ladymayhave had a point.”
“Might he?” Evaine arched a brow. “And then?”
Luc looked like he’d rather be trading blows with a twenty-foot Cryptic. “And then he might assure the lady that everything is under control, and that her concerns, though merited, are notrequired, and that this was all a huge mistake. Now, boy, I have business to attend to elsewhere. Are you coming?”
The Arcanist was three steps toward the door, reaching for his cloak, before Rolan realized this was it: Luc wanted him to either go, or stay behind with the apothecary for good.
This was his way out.
- CHAPTER 19 -PIE
Luc swept his cloak around himself like a shell, as if to protect against the daggers of Evaine’s eyes. He wasn’t going to wait for Rolan to sort his thoughts out. He seemed intent on fleeing the shop as quickly as possible, with or without his apprentice.
“Are you coming?” he asked again.
It was all happening so suddenly.
“I—” Rolan’s eyes darted to Anaya, to Luc. “I don’t—”
