The sharp burn of fresh-cut onions pervaded every corner of the kitchen. Anastasia stood as close to the open kitchen window as she could get, chopping and dicing her way through a whole bag of bulbs. Her eyes were red-rimmed as she worked on, filling one large bowl with the vegetable cut in half, skin still attached, another with clean chopped pieces to go in a hearty soup later, and a small bowl full of finely diced for Honora.
Honora worked the last of the dried juniper berries in the mortar and pestle, grinding each husk against the side of the mortar in short, efficient movements until she had a granulated powder, to which she added two drops of vervain oil and the finely diced onion. The juice of the onion brought tears to her eyes, but she was well used to that and worked on, letti
