obsession chapter 11

“My name couldn’t actually be Raven, could it?” Shariette snapped, then hastily added, “I know it doesn’t suit her.” The name, along with her surname, were gifts from her long-dead mother. Elegant, the sort of name befitting nobility, it didn’t suit her at all. Blanche had found it so dreadfully unsuitable that she’d re-christened her 

“Sasha.” Blanche might have been foul-tempered, but she had impeccable taste. Noxian clicked his tongue, a look of pity on his face. “Your aesthetic sensibilities are truly appalling.” 

What was that? Shariette glared at him, and he continued, his voice nonchalant, “It suits her. It’s a good name.” … He’s spouting nonsense again. Shariette awkwardly averted her gaze, pretending to be preoccupied.

“So, Shariette. I’ll send someone tomorrow, so be ready. We’ll handle the packing.” Noxian said, rising. Miss Verdett would have been more polite, but the way she flinched every time he used her name made him want to keep saying it. Tomorrow? Tomorrow?! 

The name didn’t matter anymore. Shariette’s eyes widened in panic. She had to inform her regular clients about the closure and the halt in her services. Some of her long-term patients needed extra supplies, and she had to send the pre-ordered stock to the pharmacies she dealt with. Then there was the inventory, the herbs she was cultivating… the list was endless! 

“Are you joking?” she snapped at the man who probably hadn’t packed a single thing in his life. “I need at least a week.”

“Two days.”

“Five.”

“Three, then.” Joseph, who had been watching their back-and-forth, clamped his mouth shut. The man who hated repeating himself had just conceded multiple times. He must be in a remarkably good mood. Well, he’d found a solution to his chronic insomnia; it was no wonder. He’d said it jokingly, but he’d meant it when he’d said she’d saved his life. Eighty percent of that man’s foul temper was probably due to sleep deprivation.

Having settled on three days, Noxian was about to leave when something caught his eye by the window. A cluster of lily-of-the-valley, not in a vase, but in a tall, slender laboratory flask. Typical of this peculiar apothecary. “I noticed the name of your shop is ‘Maylily.’ Is there a particular reason?”

Shariette followed his gaze to the white flowers. “Just a name. Why?”

Noxian lightly touched the bell-shaped blossoms, as if trying to coax a sound from them. “Just curious about the coincidence.” He opened and closed his hand, as if testing the sensation. I thought it might be… The expected chime, of course, didn’t come. The silence was a stark reminder of reality. Invader of the Sanctuary. You are the Dreamer. Noxian Rubelot’s power was “dreams.” The curse Latium had inflicted had stolen even that from him. Dreamer, you shall dream no more. It was a power he’d never cherished, yet he hadn’t wanted it taken away.

Shariette looked back and forth between the white flowers and the dark-haired man. His expression had suddenly turned grim, and she had no idea what the flowers had to do with anything. “Well, they do resemble you.”

Noxian’s head snapped up, a look of sardonic amusement on his face. “Me? Not you?” He gestured to her white hair.

Shariette crossed her arms, a snort escaping her lips. “Every part of that plant, from flower to leaf to root, is poisonous. It’s a very pretty, poisonous flower.” Just like someone she knew!

***

As soon as they were out of Maylily, Noxian let out a short laugh. “A pretty, poisonous flower. Quite perceptive.” 

She found him repulsive, yet she still thought he was pretty. The thought of her flinching every time their eyes met improved his mood considerably. She was an unusual woman, through and through. Amusing, too. The funniest part was how she tried to appear ordinary. Her teal eyes were filled with wariness and fear, yet her actions were bold. And above all, her uncanny skill.