Decision made, she left him alone long enough to wash and change, after which they both ate a quick breakfast before she informed him that she needed to leave the palace. Panic flooded his face, vanishing only when she said he could come, at which point some of the brightness she was used to flitted back in, his excitement at visiting Silverthorn clear, even muted as it was.
Together they left the palace, the hustle and bustle of the previous day magnified now that the masquerade was mere hours away. Kiva was grateful to be escaping the madness, and she sensed that Tipp was, too, with his spirits lifting further as they walked along the River Road, the empty vial tucked safely in Kiva’s pocket. Her magic was back — she could feel it again, humming just beneath her skin — but so far it hadn’t caused any problems that morning. And she certainly didn’t have any nefarious desires to use her power to hurt anyone. Whatever had happened to Torvin, whatever dark footsteps Tilda had followed in, Kiva maintained that she wouldn’t succumb to the same temptation. Mostly because, to her, it wasn’t a temptation at all.
When they passed through Silverthorn’s front gates, Tipp wanted to stop every few steps to look at something new, but Kiva urged him on. Relief filled her when she saw Rhessinda sitting on the familiar bench in the sanctuary, because she realized that if the healer accompanied them on their task, it would lessen the chance of suspicious eyes.
“Who’s this?” Rhess asked, smiling at Tipp as they approached.
Kiva thought it was kind of her not to mention that she’d seen Tipp before — the night of the abduction, when he’d been dosed with a moradine tonic and snoring on the queen’s couch.
“I’m T-T-Tipp,” he said, offering his hand.
“Rhessinda,” she said, with a firm shake. Winking, she added, “But friends call me Rhess.”
Tipp grinned, the lighthearted expression proving he was quickly bouncing back from the previous night.
“I came looking for you yesterday,” Kiva told Rhess. “I forgot you only work mornings.”
“Everything all right?” Rhess asked, her ashy brows furrowing.
“I just wanted to see if you were free for lunch,” Kiva said, and Rhess’s forehead smoothed. “But today . . . I need something else.” She pulled the empty vial from her pocket. “I have to make a potion. Can we go back to the apothecaries’ garden?”
Rhess sighed loudly and rolled her eyes toward Tipp. “Sounds like Kiva wants to steal from Silverthorn again.”
“A-Again?”
“Not steal,” Kiva defended. “Just . . . borrow.”
“Without permission,” Rhess said pointedly.
Kiva crossed her arms, ignoring Tipp’s snicker. “Will you help me or not?”
Rhessinda jumped to her feet. “For you, my friend, anything.”
And then the healer linked their arms together, one through Kiva’s, one through Tipp’s, and began frog-marching them dramatically across the sanctuary, eliciting a delighted giggle from the young boy. For that alone, Kiva knew she’d made the right decision in bringing him along. Rhessinda’s contagious personality was enough to brighten anyone’s day.
Soon arriving at the gardens, Kiva recited the ingredients she’d seen on her grandmother’s bench, along with the ones she’d detected by scent, rattling them off to Rhess and Tipp: tilliflower, silverwheat, garrow, mirkmoss, tumumin, and hogweed. They then consulted the map before traipsing through the numerous rows collecting the desired samples.
The only hiccup came when they realized that the mirkmoss was located inside the greenhouse, until Rhessinda pointed out that there might also be a workspace inside where Kiva could make her potion.
Her lack of certainty didn’t fill Kiva with confidence — nor did her lack of a key, though she surprised them with her impressive lock-picking skills — but once they were inside, all of Kiva’s reservations fled.
The greenhouse wasn’t large, but it was bursting with rare plants, herbs, berries, and flowers the likes of which Kiva had only ever heard about in wondrous tones from her father. If she hadn’t been so desperate to make her potion, she would have lingered for hours, breathing in the earthy, fresh scents and basking in the humidity of the air.
“It smells f-funny in here,” Tipp said, wrinkling his nose.
“That’s called nature,” Rhess said, wrinkling hers, too.
Hiding a smile, Kiva hunted down the mirkmoss before moving to the wooden workbench at the back of the room. There she found an assortment of apothecary tools, including blades, chopping boards, and vials large enough to hold much more than the three stingy mouthfuls Delora had provided her.