Chapter Twenty-Four Amund
My chest aches as I watch Edith leave the greenhouse.
Some of my happiest memories with Nils were there. We tossed bilberries in the air and tried to catch them with our mouths. We helped Mother repot plants until the damp soil stained our hands. We peeled apart sycamore seeds and stuck them on our noses like rhinoceros horns.
The worst part is that it reminds me of what could have been.
That’s what I saw when I opened the door in the seer campus.
If I had gone with them, my life would be completely different.
No training tirelessly and enduring bruises and broken bones.
I would be keeping Nils company in the greenhouse every day.
Watching television every weekend instead of endless patrolling.
Enjoying Mother’s cooking every night. I would have been comfortable. Safe.
Most of all, I would have been happy.
None of that is possible now.
The snap of the greenhouse door brings me back to the present.
I grip the helm of concealment tighter as Edith walks past me. She tucks her hands in her coat pockets and hurries down the walkway. I follow her, eager to put as much distance as I can between me and my brother.
She heads into the dining hall.
I slip inside after her before the door can close. The dining hall is crowded, full of noise and the briny aroma of soein ysa. Looking around at all the plates full of fresh boiled haddock and potatoes and buttered rye bread, I feel my stomach start to rumble, but I need to stay focused.
Edith takes a seat at a table by herself. She glances around nervously, bouncing her leg and reaching into her coat pocket once. Twice. She must be double-checking she still has something important. But what? My heightened vision narrows in on Edith, giving me a better look.
She’s fiddling with a small vial of liquid.
Could this be how she goes berserk? I think back to the history class I took a few years ago. Supposedly, some warriors consumed mushrooms to help induce berserkr rage. Fly agaric can trigger a range of intense emotions like joy, sorrow, or anger.
Edith stares down at the vial, but she makes no move to drink from it. It seems like she’s waiting for someone to show up. Her next victim?
Eventually the dining hall slowly empties.
Edith remains at her table.
Whenever the door opens, she looks up, only to seem disappointed.
Whoever she’s waiting for must have stood her up. Dinner is mostly gone, except for lukewarm leftovers. A hunter shovels mouthfuls of stew at a table in the corner, while a pack of berserkir are talking loudly to one another, and two witches study quietly at a far table.
I check the lignite. It’s already crumbling in my palm, and I don’t know how much longer I have. I can’t stay hidden until she drinks the potion. If it is what I suspect, once she goes berserk, she’ll be that much harder to stop. Especially on campus.
Now that the dining hall is mostly empty, I can crush the lignite to dust without the worry of being seen appearing out of thin air. Once I do, I approach her table from behind.
“Hello.”
Edith whirls around. “Amund?”
Clearly not who she was expecting.
“What are you doing here?” Only after I ask the question do I realize I want her to give me some explanation. Something to convince me she isn’t what I fear. I want to be wrong about her.
She seems agitated. Annoyed by my presence.
Edith slips the vial back in her coat pocket. “I’m waiting for someone.”
“What was that?” I demand.
She hesitates a moment. “Just something for my headaches.”
I watch her closely, studying her reaction. I don’t believe her for one second. And she can clearly tell.
“I really do have terrible migraines,” she adds, her eyes fierce.
“I know.”
Edith frowns. “How do you know that?”
“Like I said. I’ve looked into you. Now hand it over,” I tell her. “I’m confiscating it.” I grab hold of the vial, my hand brushing hers. Both of us grip the glass until it feels as though it might shatter. She releases the vial, and I slip it away from her quickly.
“Give it back,” she protests.
I hold the vial up to the overhead lights. It’s opaque, which means it’s concentrated. Whatever this potion is, it’s potent, but that’s all I can glean from my inspection. I’m sure Nils or Mother would know—
Edith tries to swipe the vial from me. I avoid her easily. Her movements are surprisingly clumsy and slow compared to a hunter’s. “With your speed and reflexes, you should have an advantage,” I find myself taunting, unable to resist.
She scowls at me. “Says someone who’s trained to be a hunter his whole life.”
“How do you—”
“Your brother.”
My stomach clenches at the reminder of Nils. Edith tries to steal the vial again while I’m distracted, but I raise it over her head where she can’t reach it. She jumps up, straining for it, so I lift it a little higher. Higher.
“This is a tonic for migraines, you said?” I ask her as I pop the cork with my thumb.
She looks nervous but nods.
“My mother made tonics all the time when I was younger,” I tell her, taking a whiff of the contents.
It has the sharp smell of alcohol—the same smell on Father sometimes when he returns late at night, long after patrol has ended.
There are other herbal smells, too. But I don’t know what fly agaric would smell like.
“I’ve tasted plenty of tonics, including ones for headaches. ”
Edith seems to grow more nervous with every passing second.
“So if you’re telling the truth, then this should taste familiar.” There’s only one way to know for sure. Tipping my head back, I take a small swig of the drink. The taste of honey fills my mouth, along with fruits and spices, reminding me more of mead than medicine.
“What are you doing?” Edith asks, eyes wide. “Hey! That’s mine. Give it back.”
She reaches around me, trying to grab the vial.
There’s still more than half of it left.
I sidestep her. It certainly tastes too sweet to be medicinal, spreading over my tongue like rich honey. But there’s something else too. Almost coppery. Warmth spreads through me, my tongue turning heavy in my mouth.
“Why would you do that?” Edith folds her arms across her chest.
I hesitate.
“Because I want to believe you’re innocent,” I admit after a moment.
I don’t know who is more shocked by my admission: her or me. While I’m disoriented, Edith snatches the vial back, our fingers brushing briefly as she does.
To my surprise, she remains seated at the table.
“You aren’t leaving?” I ask her.
“Like I told you, I’m waiting for someone,” she says with a sigh.
My eyes narrow. “Not my brother, I hope.”
“No, no,” she says quickly. “Just two berserkr friends.”
She seems to be telling the truth about that, anyway. I can’t just leave Edith unsupervised. Whatever that potion is or isn’t, she’s still dangerous. But maybe it’s more than that. Maybe some part of me wants to remain here with her.
I sit on the opposite side of the table. “I’ll wait with you.”