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Climbing up on the vanity, Akane rummaged through the bathroom cabinet until she found a bottle containing a mysterious green liquid.
A look of distaste crossed Naia’s features. “I cannot handle another potion.”
With a flat look, Akane said, “It’s mouthwash. For your breath.”
“This is unbelievable.” Avi groaned, inspecting the large cast iron tub in the center of the room. “Your cauldron is rusting at the base.”
“I haven’t exactly had time to fix it.” Yuki’s voice was crisp and sweet, like the spritz of an apple beneath a blade.
Naia chose the chair with the uneven leg, finding solace in its constant wobbling as it distracted her from the weariness in her bones.
Before her was a small room, its ceiling made of glass, allowing the sweltering midday sunlight to flood in, brightening every corner. The pungent odor of herbs and damp soil was only heightening Naia’s queasiness.
She propped her elbows up on the surface of the wooden table. Beads of sweat formed under the wire of her bra, down her spine, and into the seam of her underwear as a chill rushed over her. Neither hot nor cold, she inhabited a foreign space. It was an odd feeling, and her only wish was to trudge back to Ronin’s bedroom and cuddle up in his bed.
“And your ingredients,” Avi continued to chide. “When did you last forage? Most of your jars are empty.”
“I work full-time.” As if to prove this, Yuki gestured with both hands down to the pair of scrubs she currently wore.
Naia had forgotten that she was a doctor.
“So do I. Yet my jars were capped full—before they were burned to a crisp, of course.”
Yuki made a face, dismissing his excuse with a light toss of her hand in the air. “You work full time as my brother’s right-hand man. What does that entail, uncapping bottles? Customer greeter? You probably spend more hours at the gym than anything.”
“Ronin works my fingers to the bone making potions.”
“Does poor Aviel need his hands massaged?”
“You’ll kill someone if you make a potion in this rusted bowl.”
“I don’t need a self-absorbed prick telling me what I already know.”
“Self-absorbed?” Avi echoed in shock. “I am not?—”
“Would it kill you to wear a shirt with fucking sleeves?”
“Gods, both of you, shut the hell up,” Theon grumbled.
Naia sat across from him, and she couldn’t help but notice his painted fingernails tapping anxiously on the table, adding to the already heightened tension in the room.
Ronin joined them, sliding a steaming mug over to Naia. The peanut-colored liquid sloshed around in the cup. She could feel the prickle of his eyes probing on her face, analyzing her uncharacteristic behavior of not ingesting it immediately.
“What’s the plan, Boss?” Avi asked, pulling Ronin’s attention.
Ronin leaned back in his chair, sighing. “For now, we are staying on the island. We, as in me and Naia.”
A frown touched Naia’s lips. This was news to her. Not that she minded staying put on the island. It was a smart decision. She only wished he’d talked to her first.
“For how long?” Theon asked.
“Until the baby is born.”
“What is your solution to the problem?” Theon gestured down to the mark on Naia’s hand. “Or do you plan on handing the child over?”
Ronin grew tensely quiet.
“I am going to figure out how to break my curse,” Naia announced, albeit in a sluggish voice.
