Ber, Day 22 of Rhexia, Blinking Moons, Evening Star, Year 602
"There is not much that separates humankind from the gods. Willpower, perhaps." —The Facerum
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Evin woke to another grey day. This must have been the fifth in a row, and her psyche was growing weary of it.
She sat up in bed and took out her messy brown braids, running her fingers through the strands to loosen them and breathing a sigh of relief when the tight pull on her scalp finally eased.
She had another day off, and wasn't anticipating the loneliness that sometimes brought.
With a flash of inspiration, she decided to go and visit Wynn.
She sneezed suddenly, and messily, and goose pimples popped out on her forearms. She ignored the feeling of thickness in her head and slowly got up.
Evin's older sister Wynn ran The Upset Owl, one of the most reputable inns in Liminey. Though Wynn didn't own the property, she'd become inextricably associated with the business, offering comfortable rooms and good food and enjoying plenty of custom as a result.
Since Wynn was ten years older than Evin, the relationship between the two women tended to morph according to emotional need and precedent. Evin saw her sometimes as a doting aunt, sometimes a trusted friend, and sometimes, as a mother. And Wynn responded in kind, sensitive to Evin's moods. They'd never known their father, and had lost their mother when Wynn was only fourteen summers old—and Evin, only four.
Wynn was married now to a kind man in the village named Cotter, and together the two of them ran the inn smoothly and thriftily.
Evin sighed as she left her rented room at the boarding house and looked up into the heavy sky. The clouds simply refused to dispel and had been looming overhead for what seemed like weeks. The temperature was still cool for Liminey in Rhexia, too, and Evin shivered to herself. At least it isn't raining, she thought.
It was only a short walk to the Upset Owl. She made her way through a series of tradesmen carting wheelbarrows of goods and adjusting the heavy packs slung over their shoulders. A pair of children, probably slated for deliveries, darted around her as she stopped in front of the Upset Owl.
The building made one smile just to look at it.
It was a three-story affair with a sturdy stone base on the first level, and hewn beams and cob above. The stone chimney jutted up from the center of the inn roof, where it ran from the pub on the first floor and through subsequent levels, warming the Owl from the inside out. Wynn and the staff had three fireplaces to tend, but only one would be in operation at this time of year; the cookfire on the first floor.
Evin rounded the corner and glanced up at the shop sign hanging over the street-side door. It sported a primitive painting of a roosting owl and what was meant to be a wooden ale mug. And of course, the tavern name was painted just below.
Evin had some letters, but they were slow and halting. Reading a recipe was a task she could handle if needed, but if she pushed herself to go too quickly, it was almost certain she would make a mistake. The words seemed to tumble over themselves on the page, intent on confusing her. It gave her a frustrated, squirmy feeling—sometimes it made her want to rip pages from the books and crumple them, or hurl the volumes against a wall. Word were slippery things, she knew. Better to go slow. That was what Stacia always told her.
But the sign above the inn was easy; she already knew what it read. And there was the painting of the owl, too.
Evin ducked inside.
YOU ARE READING
Potent: Book 1
FantasyFor shop girl Evin, alchemy is an understood part of life. She learned how to brew superior potions at a young age and can't imagine her life without the use of Alertness, For General Pain, and Menstrual Cramp Cure. Though already apprenticed to a...