Victoria didn’t appreciate being kept in the dark. So, she detoured back to Alva’s cottage. The image of Zayn’s tender touch on Lily’s face burned in her mind, fueling her rage with each step.
Without hesitation, she flung the door open.
“What exactly are you planning?” Victoria demanded, her voice sharp with fury.
Alva didn’t even flinch at the intrusion. She continued grinding herbs with a mortar and pestle, her back to the door, completely unbothered by Victoria’s dramatic entrance.
Victoria’s patience, already threadbare, snapped. She reached for a ceramic pot on a nearby shelf, ready to smash it to get the healer’s attention.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Alva said calmly, finally turning to face her. “That particular mixture took three months to ferment. Breaking it would be… unfortunate.”
Victoria’s hands froze. “Then answer my question!”
“What question?” Alva asked, wiping her hands on her apron, “What’s troubling you?”
