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Her hand paused from picking a piece of fruit from the centerpiece, but he gestured at her to continue. She finished it within seconds, then arranged the food on her plate. He waited her out.
“Nothing,” she finally replied. At his pointed look, she gave in. “Exploring your island.”
“And getting your hands…glittery?”
“You have a magical pond,” she blurted out.
Klaus blinked. “I do?”
“Not magic per se but it’s rich in minerals. They settle on the crystals well and can be transferred when the crystals are crushed.” When he didn’t comment, she kept going. “The crushed particles mesh well with other ingredients used for potions, particularly the basic ones. It binds the ingredients better and makes them stronger.”
Excitement lit her up, her body vibrating with it. He itched to remove the streak of dirt under her ear…maybe to feel that vibration against his fingers too. Klaus fisted his hand.
“That sounds…interesting.”
“It is. It’s fascinating. We have magical ponds and other bodies of water, but they’re not like yours. Yours is untouched and so rich and beautiful. I just can’t get enough of it. The crushed powder…” At his continued silence, she trailed off, blue eyes turning wary. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just get them…”
He wanted that excitement back. He wanted her to light up again, not look at him like he was the enemy. It was a baffling thought, but Klaus leaned forward.
“Crush away. Use them. I have no use for them.”
Her eyes widened. “You don’t mind?”
“Not one bit. My nature protects me enough and I don’t need rich minerals for that.”
She looked like she had a lot to say about that but decided against it. He bit back amusement, torn between egging her on until she called him an egomaniac—again—and satisfying his curiosity. The latter won.
“You make potions often,” he observed. “It’s why you always look tired.”
She straightened. “I’m not tired.”
“But you make potions often.”
“It’s…nice.”
“Nice?”
“Comforting. The mixing and measuring part. The completion. Watching my stack grow and knowing I’m prepared for…”
“The apocalypse?”
Sapphire grimaced. “You have no idea how close we were to that.”
“And potions helped?”
“Yes. But my current stack isn’t for the apocalypse.”
“Is it for me, then?”
She gave him a baleful look. “Magical pact. I can’t break it, remember?”
“Not even to make me forget my memories like you did to those guys? Or order me to break it?”
“No. That still counts as hurting you. The magical pact itself rejects other forms of magic messing with it and considers attempts a violation. It’s not worth the risk.”
He suspected there was more, and it all amounted to that one thing again: Sapphire refusing to have anything to do with his death.
“Hmm.”
