“Would you like to buy a packet of flowers?” she asked a passerby in the village square who ignored her.

The town was filled with people who sat in the center of town gathered in a feast. Salted meats, beautiful eggs that could now freely be eaten were bought by those who came at the crack of dawn.

Marie was one of the many people standing near the market, smelling the food that carried the scent of cooked ham and sausages. Her packets with flowers in them were in a small bag on her shoulder. It had taken her all night to grind the collection of crab apple blossoms into a fresh powder. It was supplemented by the aroma dust she kept in storage, small packets she sewed by hand, and gently placed flowers inside.

If she could sell just a few of her jars of flowers, she could eat and be full for the rest of the day. No more scrounging for herbs in the forest.

Marie looked around and saw other potion makers from her guild. Her guild was mostly comprised of men who dabbled on potion-making using older, more potent ingredients than she did. She spotted a man in his thirties, a good ten years her senior, with a checkered robe on. Indications of an apprenticeship that he recently mastered. He was talking to a young woman with a modest black bonnet covering her hair, and a heavy blue dress on.

Marie felt the sting in her hungry stomach press her better judgement, and moved toward them, just to see his methods.

“And so,” he said, pointing to a large elegant vial of brown liquid. “This love potion will render whoever it targets to fall in love with its intended person. No scandalous incidents or falling in love with trickster faeries guaranteed.”

Marie knew that her potion at home was already much better. The color made it obvious. Darker colors were less potent than vibrant, colorful ones. He must have been stingy on the ingredients.

The woman laughed, though it was hard to hear from the commotion of the people celebrating and dancing. Marie carefully hid herself behind a long sheet of a tent, but close enough to be within earshot and sight.

“Is that so?” the woman said with a seductive tone in her voice. “Can it enrapture anyone?”

The man paused. “I stake my life on it.”

“Do you mind if I take a little test then?” she said, getting up.

She grabbed the shoulder of a man walking by. He was in his mid-twenties, had dark loose brown hair, green eyes, and plain clothes. Given the dirt on his clothes and his posture, he was possibly a farmer. He gave the woman a confused look.

“What is it, miss?” the young man asked. He tripped up on the word Miss, like he didn’t want to use it.

“This man has told me that he has the best love potion in the village,” she said. “And I want to test it. Do you mind falling in love with me?”

The young farmer looked at her with dreamy eyes and didn’t answer right away. The young woman turned and Marie saw her thin face and piercing eyes. A pool of white hair escaped her dark bonnet. No young woman would have such white hair. It must be Anatoly!

“No, I wouldn’t mind falling in love with you,” the farmer said. “I would be most honored.”

Marie stopped cold. Testing love potions, even on willing untrained participants or as diluted as his solution was against the rules of the guild.

The older man hesitated for a moment. He clutched the vial in his hands. He gave it to Anatoly, who brought out her hand to reach for it. Before they could go any further, Marie stepped in between him and Anatoly.

“Wait just a moment!” Marie said, holding out her hands.

The older man clutched his vial close to him, but furrowed his eyebrows.

“We were in the middle of a sale!” the older man said.

“And violate the laws of the Potion Makers guild?” Marie said.

The older man froze. He shuffled in place and looked down.

Anatoly let out a sweet sounding laugh.

“Oh my!” Anatoly said. “Someone is little jealous, isn’t she? A potion maker is about to close a sale and you want to bring in semantics?”

“It is not jealousy,” Marie countered. “I wanted to stop him from doing something he’d later regret. A potion maker cannot test a love potion on people who don’t have access to a cure.”

Anatoly’s eyes perked up with an energetic glow. A smile crossed Anatoly’s face, and she looked to the young farmer beside her. She placed a hand on his shoulder.

“My dear what is your name?” Anatoly asked the young man.

“Thomas,” he replied.

“Thomas,” she said to him. He looked at her with a relaxed, dazed smile. “Do you think that this woman has ever been in love?”

He locked eyes with Marie. There was a soft look in his eyes when he was with Anatoly, but when he turned to Marie, they went cold.

“No,” Thomas said. “She looks very sad and unloved. She reminds me of a dying songbird on its last breath.”

His last words were biting, but the romantic flair was strange to hear coming from a presumably local man.

She assessed what had just happened as logically as possible.

She was sure now that they were both in on the whole plan. It was probably a scam they’d worked out beforehand. But what could Anatoly offer to this farmer? She didn’t have any money to give, and her status as a faerie scared off any amorous human men who worked in the farmlands.

“I have access to a remedy,” Marie said. She turned to the older man. “And as a potion maker, I am free to test the effects.”

The older man reluctantly handed his potion to her. Older, more experienced practitioners who followed the code of the guild were allowed to make up to three potions a month to sell. It was privilege that she did not have.

Marie turned to the older man.

“Ingested or skin contact only?” Marie asked.

The older man thought for a moment.

“Ingested,” he said.

She took a drop from the bottle to preserve its selling value. A good code of conduct to encourage faith between potion makers. The older man’s initial frown softened a bit to neutral. She gave it back to him. It was a meager dot on her finger, which she placed on her tongue. It had a sweet flavor, and tasted like herbs she wasn’t familiar with, or hadn’t tasted in years. She stuck to well tested ingredients, so she didn’t know what to make of this. A warm feeling came over her, and she looked for the signal to know her target.

She looked at Anatoly, who pointed in the direction of Thomas. Marie looked at him. He didn’t look any different to her, but she notice his features were slightly nicer to look at. The signature hallmarks of desperate love weren’t there. No obsessive thoughts of Thomas, nor was her heartbeat racing to frightening proportions. Marie was thankful that the older man didn’t violate any rules on romantic love potions, and waited a moment for the side-effects to pass.

She turned to the older man and smiled.

“It is lovely potion,” she said. “Very romantic.”

“How disappointing.” Anatoly sighed. “It isn’t very strong, is it?”

Thomas nodded. “Not very strong at all.”

The older man scoffed, and walked off to take his business elsewhere, muttering under his breath.

Marie turned to the couple. Anatoly gave her a small smile, while Thomas looked like he didn’t want to be separated from Anatoly too long. He looked at Marie neutrally.

“So do you have anything more potent?” Thomas asked.

Marie crossed her arms and turned her sights to Anatoly. “I have no interest selling to her. And besides, you two seem to be quite in love already. What would you need a potion for?”

Anatoly released a billowing laugh. “Are you serious, Marie? Him?”

Thomas looked down, and shuffled away from her.

“I was merely using this man for a laugh,” Anatoly said, pushing him away. She clutched onto the pearl ribbon hidden under her garb, moving it between her fingers happily. “I already have someone who can provide for me. It is definitely not a lowly famer who rolls around with pigs!”

Marie sighed and looked at Thomas. His face went beet red, and his eyes looked as if they were about to water, but he straightened himself, and kept still while she trotted off. Marie turned to Thomas, who stood silent.

“S-She’s married?” he said.

“No,” Marie said. “She’s just terrible. It serves you right, though, trying to con me! What did she promise you exactly?”

Thomas lifted up his head to meet her gaze. His eyes were furious. “She promised me nothing. She was beautiful, and I-I just had nothing to do that is all!”

“Well,” she said. “Let this be a lesson to you then.”

She turned around to see who else would want to buy her good luck charms. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and she saw Thomas’ eyes filled with tears.

“I-I want a potion,” he said, stuttering.

Marie wanted to laugh, but his expression was serious.

“You must be joking,” she said, slipping out of his grip.

“How much do you want for it?” he said. “I’ll make a deal. I will give you milk from my family farm in exchange for the potion.”

“Mere milk?” Marie said.

“Then grain,” he said. “You can make bread from it.” It was like he didn’t seem sure at all. What kind of farmer was he?

“Grain isn’t harvested until winter,” Marie said. “You’ll have to do better than that. My potions are far above what you can offer me,” Marie said. “I have a client who is willing to pay me quite a price for it already.”

“Then why are you here, not spending your money?” he said.

Marie paused. The end of April was fast approaching. She wanted to wait just one more day, but then the feast would be over and she wouldn’t have any of the food there. If she saw one more herbal cleansing soup, she was sure to vomit. But for negotiating reasons, she said nothing and kept going forward through the crowd.

Thomas followed her.

“I want eggs,” she said.

“Alright. A dozen.” He said. Was he stupid? He gave her the highest offer. Most farmers were just cheap and most would start with five eggs at most.

“Two dozen,” she said.

“Agreed,” he said. “So will you give it to me?”

“Not give. This is a business exchange. And I’m certain that you want revenge,” Marie said. “That is against the code of my guild.”

Thomas walked in front of her and turned his body around to her.

“It is not revenge, maiden,” he said. “If I cannot get her to love me, then I shall die.”

Marie thought it was strange how he called her a maiden. Most of the other farm boys merely used it in jest, but he was serious, dramatic. She thought the residue of the love potion she took might have lingering side-effects, because she was slowly being swayed into his theatrics, and even thought them quite entertaining. Still, she kept on into the forest. He followed.

“One cannot force someone to love them,” Marie said.

“Then what is the point of love potions?” he said, waving his dirt covered fingers. He pointed to his heart. “If not to ignite the feelings of passion and repress sorrow? To bring certainty in a lost world?”

She had to laugh at his words.

“Love potions are not meant to turn hate or indifference into love, but to amplify the feelings of preexisting positive emotions. It is affectionate, not lustful,” she said. She caught herself. She was beginning to soften toward him. She couldn’t let this fool take her in.

He followed her all the way into the nettle field. She saw some tansies on the way from her last excursion. Tansies were wild flowers, bright and yellow. They were the only flower in that the faeries didn’t like to touch. If she only took one, it wouldn’t set off the curse. She picked one yellow happy colored tansy from a bush at the edge of the field and ate the head. Thomas gasped aloud and grabbed her face.

“Spit it out!” he said shaking her. “That is lethally poisonous!” 

Marie swallowed it, and Thomas stood back in horror.

“Are you ending your life because I said you were a dying bird?” Thomas said apologetically. He clasped his hands to her. “I assure you I didn’t mean it! It was something Anatoly told me to say!”

“Poisonous?” Marie said, wiping her mouth. “Maybe to full humans and some faeries. But I eat it all the time, ever since I was little. It helps negate the lingering effects of potions.”

Thomas calmed down, and they exchanged a look of understanding.

They made their way to her house, and it seemed like Thomas had forgotten why he followed her in the first place. He tripped often on small branches, and was very clumsy. He fell into things like small streams of runoff and mud more than once. He even made her slow down so he could keep pace. She noticed things about him, like his paleness and thin arms. This made Marie laugh like she never had before. Who had ever heard of an experienced farmer who couldn’t keep up with a twenty year old woman?

By the time they reached her house, he was out of breath, sitting on a moss covered stone. When they approached the entrance of her house, she kept him outside.