A Hum in the Bottle

The love potion wasn’t supposed to hum, but here it was, thrilling some loud, joyous tune. Pink hearts fizzed from the cauldron; each burst with a sweet pop that flooded Pippa’s senses with the heavy scent of roses. Nights like this always struck when she least needed them to.

She frowned into the cauldron just as another heart popped in her face and showered her with sparkles. She pressed her lips into a flat line, stepped back, and flipped it off with a very unladylike gesture. This potion was meant for a simple test for her friend Merla, to see if her husband still loved her, and the potion had chosen chaos. Her magic always acted up at the worst possible times.

Pippa was beginning to suspect the cauldron had opinions of its own.

She stomped out to the front of her shoppe. Scrolls crammed between jars, potions glowed in neat rows, and herbs dangled from the rafters. Blue and gold orbs drifted overhead, lighting the shoppe. The whole shoppe smelled of rosemary, moonlit mint, and the faint crackle of leftover spellfire. Pippa scoured the shelves until she found the herb she wanted. With renewed determination, she stomped back to the cauldron and tossed it in.

Taking a deep breath in, she closed her eyes and hovered her hands above the cauldron. She murmured her chant, focusing on the potion’s intent. In her mind’s eye, the thread of her magic shimmered. She concentrated and reached out for it; it surged, and she sensed a change in the potion below.

Peeking an eye open, she looked down to see normal bubbles slowly ascend. She celebrated her victory with a dance, only to look up and find a large, reflective bubble hovering above the cauldron. In the bubbles’ gleam, she admired her messy blue bun, proud elvish ears, pale skin with its faint blue blush from her mountain-born ancestry, and wide ice-blue eyes.

Just as she reached out to touch it, the bubble popped and blew raspberries.

“You have got to be kidding!”

She could have sworn she heard a laugh bubble out.

From somewhere beyond the shoppe’s walls, the town’s bell tower chimed, a gentle reminder for everyone to settle in as the sunset patrol neared. Pippa’s stomach dipped. That meant a certain tall, handsome knight would be stopping by for their usual “chat,” and of course, tonight of all nights she was elbow-deep in a love potion. Three months of flustered conversation with Sir Valain flashed through her mind, and she knew exactly what he’d think if he saw her with this–a spellcaster who meddled with emotions.

Releasing a resigned sigh, she fetched a vial, filled it to the brim, corked it, and added a wax seal. “Do. Not. Embarrass me. Please–” she hoped the added plea would help.

The potion now hummed even louder; this time completely off-key. She groaned and brought the potion up to warn it face-to-face as she stepped into the front of the shoppe. “Behave.”

“Talking to bottles again, are you, Pips?”

Pippa halted. There, leaning against her front door, stood Sir Valain. Gone was the polished armor; tonight, he wore a loose white shirt with a sinfully low collar and leather pants that sparked unforgivable thoughts. His warm brown eyes flicked over her; he lingered a heartbeat too long, but his eyes held warmth and relief of seeing her. Heat crawled up her throat; he always had this effect on her, even when he wasn’t smirking like he knew it.

“Oh, hi, Val. I-I didn’t hear you come in.” The words tangled together as she stumbled a half-step back. A tiny spark of her magic betrayed her as it popped over her shoulder.

He cocked a brow, “I said your name three times.”

“You did?” she squeaked.

Sir Valain smirked and pushed off the door to stand before her in two easy strides. He gave her a curious look as he neared, seeing the vial she had clutched to her chest. She glanced down as well and saw the vial had gone silent.

Traitor, she cursed the vial.

Without asking, he took the vial from her hands and held it up to the ceiling's glowing lights. He brought it back down and attempted to break the wax seal, but she snatched it back from him.

He blinked rapidly a few times before looking back to her, “Something illegal?”

Pressing her lips together, she shook her head and clutched it to her chest. “No, not illegal, more–” she tilted her other hand side to side in front of her– “embarrassing.”

“Could I have a sip then?”

He tried to grab it again, but she backed away and hid the vial behind her back.

“Um, I didn’t think potions worked on you fallen Celestials?” Her heartbeat throbbed in her ears. If Valain sniffed the vial, he’d know exactly what kind of potion it was–Celestials could sense enchantments like wolves scenting blood. And she’d rather drink it herself than let him believe she brewed it for him.

He inched closer, and the vial hummed ominously in her hand.

“Oh no you don’t,” she hissed at both. Panic and pride tangled in her chest, and before she could talk herself out of it, she uncorked the vial and tipped her head back. Warmth surged through her as the room brightened and colors sharpened.

When she looked at him, he stared in disbelief. “Did you chug that so I wouldn’t?” “What?” she giggled. “No, silly. It was obviously for me!”

Val tilted his head and examined her carefully. “You’re acting-”

“Like I don’t have to pretend anymore!” She twirled, freed of all thought.

He raised a skeptical brow in response.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” she said merrily and grabbed his hand. She led him to the stained-glass door. “Come, let’s go eat dinner together! All the energy I used marking scrolls and potions all day has left me drained.”

He hesitated, then exhaled with a sheepish half-smile. “I was actually...coming to ask you to dinner.”

Oh. That’s why he wasn’t in armor.

For months, she replayed every smile he offered her, every joke, every tender “goodnight,” wondering if she imagined the warmth behind them. She turned towards him, too quickly, and collided with the solid warmth of his chest.

His arm caught her on instinct, firm around her waist. Her palms pressed over the rapid thrum of his heartbeat, quick and uneven against her fingertips. He smelled of iced lavender and bergamot zest, entirely him. In that suspended moment, her mind stilled, her heart fluttered, and the world glimmered into a soft pink haze. She wasn’t sure if it was the magic from the potion or from the way he held her, steady, careful, like she mattered.

He broke the silence first, his face tightened with concern. “Are you okay? If you’re not feeling well, I could walk you home and bring you something from the tavern. We can go out to eat another night I have off patrolling.”

Heat rushed to her face, and her vision blurred. She tried to pull away, but he held steady. With his free hand, he cupped her cheek and brushed the wetness beneath her eyes. His hands were rough from battle, yet they soothed her.

“No, no, no,” he said gently. A glow faintly coming off his skin. “I didn’t think you’d want to go on a date while under the effects of a love potion.”

She wanted to sink into the floor. “You knew what it was?”

“I think when someone drinks a potion and has hearts coming out of their head, it’s a given,” he teased.

She groaned loudly in response.

His laughter was light, but it came from deep in his chest. “What kind of love potion was it anyway?”

“One that shows how you truly feel about another person...”

“Interesting," he said, and somehow that one word settled heavily in her chest, far too full of meaning.

She didn’t know how to respond, what to say. She wished she could read his mind to make sure he didn’t think the worst of her.

“How about we get you home?” he asked, his voice gentle, understanding.

Her gaze dropped, fingers tracing a nervous pattern across his chest, and a faint tremor shivered through him. “Did you mean it?” She looked up again, “That we’ll go out another night together?”

He smiled and nodded once.

“And if you get me food from the tavern...will you stay?”

His smile broadened, almost glowing. “Anything for you, my Pippa.”

She swooned. Her heart felt too big for her ribs; no potion in the world could’ve made that feeling up.

His gaze softened; eyes flickered to her lips. She went to her tiptoes and tilted towards him, just as a heart burst between them, coating them both in glitter. They froze–Pippa mortified, Val stunned.

His grasp slackened, and she finally broke free and stepped back. She covered her face with her hands. “I’m so sorry! I’m going to walk home...alone...”

Val brought her hands down and tilted her head to look up at him. Without another word, his lips pressed firmly against her.

The shoppe burst into hearts, sparkles, and the overwhelming scent of roses. Scrolls fluttered while the potion bottles clinked, and the lights above in the rafters glowed and spelled out “THEY KISSED!”

When their lips parted, Val kept her close, brushing his thumb over her knuckles before lacing their fingers together. “Let's get you home,” he said gently, “before the whole town is smothered by hearts.”

Pippa laughed, her embarrassment long forgotten. Hearts bobbed after them like eager fireflies as they headed down the cobbled road. Sparkles swirled in their wake. Magic had rarely behaved for her, but tonight, she was glad it didn't.

Because it brought her to her happily ever after.