34

Y

34

Sienna.

I was in the apothecary when the rain started. One minute I was organizing jars, and yes, alphabetically, and the next, the forest outside was thrumming with wet sound.

I pressed my forehead to the glass and sighed. “Well, that’s dramatic.”

I wasn’t particularly worried. Rain made everything smell sharper and earthier. If you stood still long enough, you could almost hear the roots drinking. Still, there was some kind of mischief in the air today.

Which, naturally, made me think of Isabella.

The girl had been too quiet lately. And by quiet, I mean not texting me dumb memes or calling to ask what herbs help with heartbreak while pretending it was “for a friend.” I knew better.

So, I grabbed a bottle of red wine from under the counter, strictly for medicinal purposes, and locked up the shop.

***

Isabella’s cottage was glowing soft yellow through the trees when I reached it. I could already hear the gentle thrum of a playlist inside, something moody and lyric-heavy, because