“After Maharani Naupure died, Maharaja Naupure created this for the troops and the staff. He wanted a full clinic to be closer to the palace.”
“Of course,” I whisper. A stab of sadness awakens behind my eyes and I blink hard to try to block the tears. I can feel the pain Maharaja Naupure cast into making this place. The shelves are smooth and soft, painstakingly carved. Every herb, spice, and flower is marked and precisely spaced from the others. The clinic is so full of every kind of ingredient imaginable and yet so void of people. Created too late. Not that this place could have saved Maharani Naupure; childbirth when difficult can go wrong too quickly for a potion to help. But it might have saved his daughter.
Kalyan rolls up his sleeves, showcasing the Touch that runs up his arms. I can’t help but stare. Gods, I’m always staring at him nowadays.
“So what do we need first?” he asks.
“For what? Are you wanting to make an explosion spell or something for the mission?”
He gives me a bemused look. “No, but I think I should be worried that you seem to know how to make explosion spells. I’m talking about the potion, for you.” He nods at my hand, still pressed to my side.
“Oh…”
Is he serious?He is going to create the daydream I just had. It’s not like he knows what I was thinking earlier, but blood, the very idea he could read my mind. I look around to avoid giving myself away further. “Valerian root first as the base and that bottle of oil right there. Oh, and grab the ginger. And that big ashoka flower bunch.” I pluck a cluster of peppermint leaves off a branch and search for the right kind of blood.
After I light the fire under a large cauldron, Kalyan urges me out of the way and onto a wicker stool. “Just sit there. Tell me what to do.”
“No, it’s fine,” I protest.
“You’ll be telling me what to do, Smoke. You love that.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, but don’t poison me.”
He rolls his sleeves up higher and grabs a mortar and pestle. “I guess that depends on how good a teacher you are.”
Of all the potions to start a beginner on, this would be one of the last on the list. It’s beyond complex, edging into convoluted and at times traveling to the land of torturous. But if he really wants to learn I won’t stop him from trying. I explain the process of this particular potion, especially what needs to happen with the blood. He can’t mess that part up.
And then, beyond my expectations, he does fairly well, listening each time I jerk from the stool to correct his technique. He only has to restart twice. Prisha had to restart eighteen times before Mother was satisfied. Which raises the question, how is Kalyan so bloody good at everything?
Twenty minutes later, the potion froths, hot steam floats through the air, a bird sings as it bathes itself on the roof, and Kalyan and I are working together as usual. And yet it’s in a totally different way from fighting in the Underground or in the streets of the East Village. We are in our own little separate world. It’s like there’s no such thing as betrayal, political issues, or my fated marriage to worry about. Just me, cramping, and Kalyan trying to fix it.
“How do you remember all of this?” Kalyan asks as he slices the lump of ginger root with a white knife.
“Monthly practice.”
“Ah, of course. And what about other potions?”
“Daily practice.” I reach out and stop his hand. “You want each slice to be the same thickness, the exact same.”
He cuts slower, more evenly, my hand guiding his for a couple of slices before I return to the stool next to his. “It also takes a great mentor,” I say.
“Guess I’m out of luck, then,” he says as he beams at the ginger. He does that sometimes when he teases me; he looks away and smiles at his own joke as if I don’t notice it.
I let out a huff. Gods, that cheeky smile. “And I was about to say how well you are doing.”
“Too late, Smoke, too late. I’m taking the compliment.”
“Well, we are on to the hard part, so you can truly prove yourself. This is the spell.” I grab a piece of paper and write it down. “It’s best to say it calmly and move your hands like this.” Index finger pressed to my thumb I wave and flip my hand.
“Should I watch for a color change?” Kalyan asks.
“Not with this potion. I know that sucks, but this one just bubbles more, if you’re lucky.”
Kalyan takes a few breaths. I can’t tell whether he is being serious or teasing me, but I watch him intently regardless.“Alpaya Pidaleah Zantahileah,”he casts, and white magic drips off his hands like water as he twists them. Perfect.
One large green bubble expands and pops. Kalyan turns to me expectant and hopeful. “Did it work?”
I get up and stir the green liquid. It bubbles grotesquely. “Nope. Failed.”