Page 48 of Unveiled

Connor snorted. “It absolutely will not be.”

Luciana shoved the first vial toward Laird’s hands. It bubbled a suspicious lavender. “This one uses sautéed mandrake. And no, you’re not allowed to ask why it’s bubbling.”

“I think I should,” Laird whispered.

“Drink,” Luciana ordered.

Laird gave Adrian a last look of desperate hope—which Adrian returned with an apologetic wince—then tipped back the potion.

The reaction was immediate. A loud FOOMP echoed through the workshop, and a puff of purple smoke enveloped Laird. When the smoke cleared, Luciana gasped. “It worked.”

Laird touched his face. “I, I don’t feel hot. Am I, am I still blushing?”

Everyone leaned in. It was miraculous. Not a whisper of pink.

Adrian smiled. “It actually—”

Laird’s left eyebrow burst into sparkling gold. And all of them jerked back.

The Apothecarist clasped his hands in delight. “Fascinating.”

Laird flailed. “My face is sparkling. Why is my face sparkling?”

“Oh, relax,” Luciana said. “It’s festive.”

“I don’t want to be festive.”

Each time Laird moved his brow, a small tinkling sound followed. Connor wheezed with laughter. “He sounds like a holiday ornament.”

Laird glared at him, which only made the eyebrow jingle louder.

Adrian covered his mouth. “Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh.”

Luciana waved her hand dismissively. “It’s fine. It’ll wear off in a few hours. Now for Version Two.”

“No,” Laird yelped, backing up so fast he bumped into the table. “I’m not drinking another one.”

The Apothecarist brightened. “This one doesn’t involve sautéing.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Luciana lunged, vial in hand. “Just hold still.”

Laird dodged like a man possessed. “Get that thing away from me.”

A brief chase ensued around the workshop table, Laird surprisingly speedy for someone jingle-sparkling in panic. Connor grabbed him by the shoulders. “Lad, it’s a potion. You can outrun Luciana, but not inevitability.”

“That’s the worst pep talk I’ve ever heard,” Laird shouted.

Adrian stepped in, palms raised. “All right, enough. Laird, no more testing until we understand the side effects. Luciana, Apothecarist, maybe dial back the enthusiasm.”

Both conspirators groaned with identical, theatrical disappointment.

“But—” Luciana tried.

“No,” Adrian said firmly.

The Apothecarist muttered, “You’re stifling innovation.”