Because of who Aini was, and what Aini was, Thane with his late nights and penchant for whisky was the very definition of Look, but don’t touch. She had to be careful. Do nothing dangerous. Never break any rules.
“Good morning, Thane.”
Just because he wasn’t for her didn’t mean she had to be rude. After all, he was Father’s favorite, besides herself, of course. Thane had developed the original formula for the vision gum. Aini wished she had half the brains he did.
“We’re almost ready to mix,” she said.
His gaze slid over her fingers and up her arms, and he gave her a nod.
As Neve measured out the pepper, Aini held a hand toward the bubbling broiler. “A little help?” she asked Thane. Her face heated. Why did her cheeks have to flush so easily?
“Aye. Course.” Thane’s thick, West Scots accent wrapped around every O and tripped over each R beautifully.
Tugging his coat on, Thane slid his glasses onto his slightly overlarge nose. Tattoos of chemical formulas snaked down his fingers in black letters, tiny numbers, and mathematical symbols. Aini leaned forward a little. NaCl was salt. Another finger had a V over a t and—oh—it was the formula for viscosity. But the other markings? She could never quite get a good look at them.
Father walked in, wearing his usual style—all black under his lab coat, and every item ironed into full submission. He winked before readying the powdered sugar at the lab’s silver table. He still wore his wedding ring, though the divorce happened long before Aini’s mother died two years ago. She sighed, wishing she could do something about that pain.
“I was thinking,” Father said to Thane, “if we used a pressure cooker to force the Maillard reaction in tomorrow’s Dulce de Leche recipe…”
Thane’s face brightened. “We could decrease the cooking time by perhaps six times.” Thane lifted the pot as Aini stirred. His arm brushed hers and she swallowed. “Genius, Mr. MacGregor,” Thane said.
“Will you never stop with the Mr. MacGregor? Just Lewis, please.”
Thane smiled at Father like he was his own, like Father could somehow heal the hurt that clouded the uni student’s eyes. But it was all right. She wasn’t jealous. Aini knew Father was good at providing a stable life, a simple and scheduled way of living, something maybe Thane hadn’t experienced before apprenticing here.
“Neve, will you please warm up the mixer?” Father wiped a spot of sugar off his nose and set his planner on the desk near the far end of the lab. The green and blue sugar, in the jars he’d mounted on the whitewashed wall, sparkled. He frowned like there was something unpleasant about them. Aini touched her chin. She’d always wondered why he displayed the jars like that. They’d never used those colored sugars and surely it would be better to have them with the other ingredients, organized by the lab table. She’d look into it later.
Father shook his head and went to help Thane pour the steaming gum base into the powdered sugar.
The lab’s landline rang and Aini picked up. A familiar, rough voice asked for Lewis MacGregor. Aini gritted her teeth. Not them again. Her grip on the phone tightened.
“Hold please.” She looked to Father. “It’s for you.”
He stared at the ceiling, eyes pressed closed, before finally taking the call.
While Neve dealt with the mixer’s perpetually moody switch across the room—all while humming a song loved by Father’s other male apprentice, Myles—Aini took Father’s place beside Thane.
Plunging her hands into the gum blend, she kneaded the sticky stuff. The mix was ready for flavor. The powdered sage, white pepper, and smoky nutmeg did nothing to improve the color of the chewing gum, but she was pretty sure Neve was on to something with this flavor choice. The herbs and spices, along with the medieval art packaging that Myles had drawn up, might just get people seeing ancient castles and feasts in great halls. Chemistry crossed with suggestion. It was how the human brain worked.
“No.” Father’s knuckles whitened as he squeezed the phone. “I’m not going to weaponize my products. Not until I see the royal approval. I’m finished talking about this.” He punched a button and threw the phone to his desk where it banged against his laptop. “Campbells. Pushing and pushing. Playing both sides, and I know very well I’m not going to be the winner no matter how…” Muttering, he stalked back to the table. “I need to get something from my downstairs office. Give me a shout when we’re ready to test.” He disappeared down the staircase, growling about being left in peace.
The Campbells made up the majority of kingsmen stationed in Edinburgh. Normally, they were the law, acting as the king’s agents, along with the other kingsmen. But since that public execution of those rebels last month, things had been different. Nathair Campbell had executed Scottish subjects without a trial of any kind. The king had excused him, blaming overzealous loyalty to the crown, but Aini wasn’t so sure. Clan Campbell was less an arm of the king and more of a criminal gang these days. Aini couldn’t believe they were pressuring Father to develop products that could covertly paralyze and poison without the king’s seal of approval. Even if it was to fight the rebels. It was unfathomable.
Thane breathed hard through his nose like an angry horse.
She eyed the gum, looking for dry spots or uneven spicing. “What is it? What’s off?”
Vine-like muscles twisted below Thane’s rolled coat sleeves. He dusted his hands off and pushed his glasses into his hair. “If your father would agree to aid the Campbells, he’d be helping Scotland fight the rebels.”
“He doesn’t want to twist our craft into something sick and evil.” She put her hands
