Read The Apothecary Diaries Novel Novels & Stories

The room was dim until Cain moved past her to light a lamp on the heavy central worktable, and the light spread outward to catch on shelved jars, leather book spines, copper instruments gone green with age. A healer's workshop. She'd never seen one — she'd been too young when the Ashford home burned, and whatever her mother had kept had burned with it. But she'd read about them in the books she'd stolen during her years at Blood Moon. She'd memorised the descriptions: the worktable, the drying racks, the journals, the apothecary organisation of a hundred small jars. This was that. This was exactly that. "How long has this been here?" she heard herself ask.

We could divorce, and end the marriage, but I didn't want that. I wanted to keep her close. She was my mate. I was never going to let her go. I swung open the door to the Apothecary, instantly enveloped in the musky smell of ancient books and herbs that made my nose tingle. Diana was perched on the counter as if she had been expecting my visit. Striding towards her with hands in my pocket, she flashed me a grin, like she was glad to see me. “Look what the cat dragged in,” she said. I took out the seat at the counter and sat, my hands on the table as I watched her.

"But I suppose it's not unheard of." She turned and started down a book and scroll-lined shelf. She pulled a big, leather-bound volume back to the table. She replied, "This is our healer's journal," laying it before me. "It holds decades of knowledge passed on from one generation to the next. Being a holy book, I hope you will treat it with dignity. My pulse pounding with anticipation, I nodded fast. Like this was it. Renly can be saved with the secret I went for the diary, my fingers sliding over the ancient leather.Elara's hand shot out, though, halting me just as I was ready to open it.

Sometimes, I wonder if she’s the one I am feeling in this room. I don’t believe in ghosts or that shit. I grab a blue hardcover, with the name, ‘Herbs for healing sleeping sickness’. I flip the pages, leaning on the bookshelves, as the pages flip, a paper falls out. I grip it, the paper is nearly old, the edges almost torn off. The writing is legible.

the welp demanded. "Ah, so you do know what this is," I said. "Now, as much as I would like to show here everything this book contains, we are not here to speak of the transaction history. No... What you want to know is details about this package delivered to you. From a shop called the 'Europhia Apothecary'." "I made no purchase to any apothecary, you fraudulent mutt!" the welp shouted. I rolled my eyes at him, surprised with how high his arrogance was. How fragile his pride turned out to be. "No one ever said you made the purchase. Unless if you mean to tell me you suddenly live on your own here."

"'The relics,' he says, Eyes wide, I nod, reaching for the chalice and cross, laying them on his stomach. I stroke his cock fast at them. His hips buck and he cums hard. Thick ropes shoot out, he spits, the silver chalice splashing. white streaks on the gold cross. It pools on the cloth. More spurts hit my hand-hot, sticky-dripping down the sides. I drain him dry, from base to tip, watching as the last drops fall upon the holy items.

Tristen scrambled back up to his feet in an instant, keeping his chin tucked low and his hands clasped nervously in front of his waist. Michael slowly turned his head, scanning his sharp eyes across the cluttered wooden shelves, the dusty glass bottles, and the old, falling-apart walls of the cramped room. He turned back to face the trembling apothecary, his eyebrow arching slightly. "What exactly do you do in a place like this?"

My own children, and my fiance. I kept pacing between the shelves, my eyes scanned every title and books. There had to be another way. There had to be something, anything that didn’t involve… him. And then, tucked away in a dark corner behind a pile of tattered scrolls, I found it. A small, black leather-bound book with crimson stitching, worn with age. “The Lost Remedies of Asterfell.” My pulse jumped. This was different. I opened it carefully, the pages brittle beneath my fingers. Dust filled the air, making me cough, but I barely noticed. My eyes darted over the faded, nearly illegible ink until I found a heading that made my heart skip:

Then, the heavy oak door groaned inward on rusted hinges, revealing a pitch-black interior that smelled overwhelmingly of dried nightshade, crushed beetles, and old copper. "State your business, or leave your fingers on the threshold," a voice rasped from the gloom—flat, ancient, and utterly devoid of warmth. "We are looking for an apothecary who deals in illicit soul-binding reagents," Thalen said smoothly, stepping across the threshold without waiting for an invitation. "Bold," the voice cackled, a dry, rattling sound like dead leaves scraping across flagstones. "Or profoundly stupid. Step into the light so I can see what kind of arrogant fools wander into Madame Kaelin’s cellar after midn

Finally, she stopped at a section of old herbalism texts, many of them so worn that their covers had faded to ghostly shades of green and brown. “Here,” she said, pulling down three heavy volumes and carrying them to a table near the far window. Dust floated in the golden beams of light that spilled in from the glass above. “These are the most likely to have what you need. But be careful, some of these methods are outdated, and some are very dangerous.” Ryker and I sat opposite each other, the books spread between us like treasure maps. The clock on the wall ticked quietly, marking the passing minutes. Outside, I could hear the faint sound of rain beginning to fall against the library roof.