by Iris Andersi (@goodwords.bsky.social)
Adult Cozy Fantasy
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Query
POTIONS UNINCORPORATED is an adult cozy romantic fantasy complete at 81,000 words. It combines the humor of Under the Whispering Door by T.J. Klune and the grumpy-sunshine romance of The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches by Sangu Mandanna. It is set in a queer normative world featuring two bisexual main characters as well as chronic illness representation.
According to the townsfolk, Linatta Mosset acts more like an eighty-year-old widow than a thirty-year-old witch. But townsfolk are untrustworthy busybodies, and the only approval Linatta needs comes from her familiar—a cat named Toad. Besides, she’s busy brewing potions to ease the pain of her chronic illness and selling the surplus to Potions Inc. But when the company manipulates her into accepting an outrageously large order, it takes a physical toll.
Marik Simblonc is a softly-masculine witch with zero talent for potion making. He cares deeply about his sister, Veera, and her struggles with chronic pain. When Potions Inc. doubles the price of the only brew that gets Veera out of bed, he plots revenge on the witch that makes it. Marik gets directions to Linatta’s cottage, steals her cat, and leaves a ransom note for a lifetime supply of the brew.
While furious at first, Linatta is softened by Marik’s plight. Unable to meet the ransom’s demands, she offers him a deal: give back Toad, and she’ll teach him how to make her brew. As the pair forage for ingredients, their shared passion for plants causes new feelings to sprout.
But Potions Inc. is willing to play dirty to stop her from sharing a potion worth its weight in gold. Linatta never meant to stand up to a greedy corporation, and she definitely didn’t intend for Marik’s good-natured charm to rub off on her. But brewing up a connection with Marik might just convince her that both love and justice are worth the toil and trouble.
I live in the Pacific Northwest and work for an environmental non-profit organization. I identify as bisexual, a person with a chronic illness, and a writer. While I deal with symptoms from an autonomic nervous system disorder, post-exertional malaise, and heart block, I hope to find the right potions (prescription drugs) to help manage my symptoms. Like my characters, I dream of a world that doesn’t overcharge for medicine.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
First Five Pages
Twelve vials sat on a shelf where one hundred should rest. Linatta Mosset picked up one of the tapered glasses—thumb-sized and filled to the brim with a warm, green liquid. She uncorked it and took a hard swallow. Bitterness struck first, but it disappeared after a few seconds and slipped into a nutty and earthy aftertaste.
She was lightheaded. Again. But it was near sundown, so that was her own fault for waiting so long to take a brew.
Toad, her familiar, purred as he wedged himself between her bare feet and rubbed up against her. Bits of dark brown fur clung to Linatta’s skirt. Toad decided his work was done and padded his way over to the largest rocking chair in the den. He settled on top of the plump, orange cushion.
Linatta grumbled, “Sure, go on without me, Toad. You relax, and I’ll do all the work.”
A dull knock came from her front door—firm knuckles on old oak.
Linatta stilled. She replaced the stopper on the vial and carried it to her wash bin. Perhaps they would get the hint if she did not answer.
But she had never been one gifted with luck.
“Linatta?” The sound was muffled by her front door, but the voice unmistakably dripped with honey and placed a musical lilt at the end of each word. “I certainly hope I’m not disturbing you at this late hour. I was caught up with another vendor, but I couldn’t possibly leave Malison’s Hollow without stopping to see my favorite potion maker.”
Trina.
As much as Linatta loathed vanity, she was not above righting her appearance before seeing an ex-lover. She touched her cheek and found a dried steak of dirt. “I’ll be there in a moment,” she called. It took arguably longer than a moment for her to grab a washrag and scrub the dirt off of her face.
A thread had come undone on the left corner of her gray shawl, and she tucked in the loose string to hide it. She rested her hands on her hips and took a deep breath. Everything about Linatta screamed medium. A medium build with medium-colored hair and medium features. Be it slender or large, tall or tiny, a desirable witch was applauded for their extremes. She had none and told herself she was glad for it. The world had enough extremes.
She strode across the wooden floor, a patchwork of dark oak, red maple, and white elm. Everything appeared in good enough order. A handful of stray mugs soaked in her wash bin. A crocheted blanket was neatly folded over the arm of her dark green couch. The small cauldron in the fireplace bubbled without spilling. Dark brown fur coated the orange cushion on her rocking chair, but that was difficult to tidy up while a grumpy familiar sprawled across it. Dust clung to the sparsely-populated potion shelves, but she doubted Trina would look that closely.
She swung open the door, and her heart lurched upon seeing Trina’s face. It was an emotional response she didn’t particularly care for, but Trina had a strange energy about her that kept pushing Linatta to open her door every time she came knocking.
“Linatta.” The tall witch lifted a woven basket full of gifts. Chocolates from Rowansville, a wool scarf from Izkarin, and new potion vials—the kind resistant to shattering when Toad would inadvertently knock them off of a shelf he wanted to climb. “I really am sorry for arriving so late. I had hoped to come by earlier.”
There it was again. The emphasis on the time. Was Trina mentioning it because she wanted Linatta to pay attention to the darkened hour? Or was it simply to clarify she would have preferred a more appropriate time? It had been after sunset the time their professional relationship had grown . . . less professional. But that was over a year ago, and Trina had not brought it up since.
Good. Getting too close to Trina would end the same way all of her relationships did. Better to keep some distance.
“It’s no trouble at all,” Linatta said.
If Trina had been one of the townsfolk from Malison’s Hollow, it would have been trouble. But Trina wasn’t one of the gossips from town always trying to pry into her personal life, or worse, whispering about her from a distance. It also didn’t hurt that Trina had gifts and a crooked smile and a face littered with a million freckles.
“Ah! You spoil me with your company.” She handed the basket to Linatta and stepped inside.
The murmurings of hope crawled inside Linatta’s chest. As if he could sense it, Toad let out a hiss. He abandoned his cushion and stalked over to Linatta’s feet, glowering at Trina. Beneath his paws, tiny dark shadows swirled.
Trina took a small step back and smiled tightly. “Your cat seems particularly grumpy today. I hope the sweet thing is feeling all right.”
Linatta set the basket on a side table near the door. It took literally biting her tongue not to correct Trina. Toad was not a cat. He was her familiar. Her assistant in brewing potions and in life. Sure, he didn’t speak much with outsiders, and he looked like a cat, but he wasn’t one. She sighed, not finding the energy to argue. “Please, don’t mind Toad. He’s just restless because he hasn’t had supper. You can grab a seat if you’d like.”
The brew finally seeped into the marrow of Linatta’s bones, sending pleasant bubbles dancing around her scalp until she could once again think clearly. Her back straightened despite the knot begging to be worked out between her shoulder blades. She felt better. Not perfect, but no potion could completely rid a witch of pain.
She ladled several scoops of Toad’s supper from the cauldron heating his milk and cream. Toad hissed at Trina again but opted to distract himself with his meal instead of throwing a full temper tantrum. How civil.
Trina lounged on the couch. Flickering firelight cast shadows across her face and made her light green eyes look otherworldly. “I really am sorry about coming over so late. I promise I won’t stay long.”
The unspoken question on Linatta’s mind had found its answer. Fine. She had all the company she needed. It wasn’t as if they had forged a deep connection. Linatta hardly knew anything about Trina. Perhaps that was what made her so appealing. The witch never gave personal details or asked for any in return. A respectable choice. Besides, Trina’s visits were first and foremost a business arrangement.
On the other hand, Trina had shown up with a neckline plunging to her navel and a heavy chest on full display. Linatta wouldn’t particularly mind an unrespectable evening every once in a while, but she kept her face neutral and her voice void of emotion. “It’s fair to say I was surprised by your visit. It’s only been four weeks.”
“I know. I know. Usually three months is our standard for supply rounds, but I must ask if you have any extra pain-reducing potions on hand. Everyone at Potions Inc. was thrilled with the batch you provided a month ago, and our customer base keeps multiplying. We’ve already run out in every shop that sells it, and we’re willing to pay a copper more per vial this time if you have any. You’re really doing all those witches a tremendous kindness by brewing it.”
Linatta joined Trina on the couch, but she sat on the opposite side to avoid any accidental contact. A blush worked its way into her cheeks. Linatta never set out to sell her brew, but she was not immune to empathizing with others in her situation. Chronic pain demanded to be felt, and so few witches possessed the gifts needed to quell it. “I’m grateful for everything Potions Inc. has done to distribute my potions. You know I’d never be able to do it on my own, but I don’t have any to spare.”
Trina’s smile shifted to a grimace before it was righted. “Oh, well, that is disappointing. It was rude of me to disturb you so late. I just thought, what with your current situation being what it is, you might have it in your heart to increase the order. I better be going then. I can see that you’re . . .” She glanced at the nearly-empty potion shelves. “Busy.” She stood, and the scent of cedarwood filled the air.
Linatta didn’t hide the frown that crept across her face at Trina’s accusation. Trina always made brewing sound easy, but Linatta struggled to find the words to correct her. To say it wasn’t just about having time to brew. That the energy to forage for ingredients and bottle potions surpassed what she had to give.
The thought of Trina walking away without another word made Linatta surprised to feel a different sort of ache in her chest. Not of hard pain. But the soft, heartbroken kind that creeps in and settles over everything. Like dust in an empty home.
My cottage is not empty. Linatta thought to herself. Plenty of life between myself and Toad. And my plants.
Still, she could not shake the dust. It built up, forming a cave that collapsed. “What I meant to say was, I don’t have any to share right now. I could make a larger batch next time, if you come back then. I—I want you to come back. I mean, if you want to.” Of all of the stupid, desperate things to say . . .