Chapter 8 #3
“Maybe you shouldn’t sell it at all,” I fire back.
“Well, maybe,” Aster sneers, “you shouldn’t take drinks from strang—”
“I’ll kill every fucking plant in this room if you finish that sentence.”
He says it so casually, a heaviness settling over the space—as big as it is—as soon as the words leave his mouth.
I look over at Callan, jaw slack, noting his deadly calm expression.
Static pricks the air, and when I look back at Aster, she’s frozen to the spot, piercing green eyes locked on the Captain. “You wouldn’t,” she mutters.
I follow her stare, tempted to bet the same thing. Glancing around the room, my stomach sinks. Surely, he wouldn’t. There are so many things…all the work they’ve done…
More static pricks my skin, making it harder to breathe.
Callan says nothing, gracefully tucking his hands in his pockets. There’s a silent invitation there…for her to call his bluff.
I wouldn’t.
Aster scoffs, and the chortled sound pulls my attention. “You’ve always been quick to lose your temper,” she grits out, gesturing an arm to the now deadly silent room, “but threatening all of this?” Her sharp chin juts in my direction. “For that? I just don’t—”
A heavy wave of power suffocates the air, and Aster stutters, her face scrunching in confusion for half a second before it falls flat. Unnervingly flat.
Lights on, no one’s home, flat.
Before I can get a word out, Callan steps in front of me, blocking me from the suddenly stoic Flora.
“Thanks for your help, Aster,” he says, and my brows furrow. “From now on, you’ll report any poison sold to me or the Dame. Understood?”
“Yes, Captain.” Her tone is monotonous—completely unfeeling.
Callan turns, guiding me towards the door. He positions himself at my back, making it impossible for me to turn around and get another look at Aster.
“Callan, what the hell?” I nearly trip as he pushes me past the littered desks towards the exit. “What just happened?”
“I’ll tell you when we get outside.” His voice is clipped, his fingers tight on my waist. I have the good sense to listen, sensing the urgency in whatever situation he’s just put us in.
Callan doesn't say a word until we make it to the stone path that we’d taken to get here. He pulls me off the path when a group of Floras bustle by, dragging me behind a nearby tree.
“I took her memories,” he admits.
“You WHA—”
“Shh.” A few Floras trailing the group have looked back at us. Callan acknowledges them with a short nod before pulling me further behind the tree. “I took you out of her memories. That’s all.”
I gape back at him, blinking away my shock, but it isn’t working. “You took me…out of her memories…just now?” My voice comes out strained.
“Yes.” He rubs the back of his neck. “She’ll remember the conversation, but she won’t remember you being a part of it.”
“You…you can’t just…” I shake my head, trying so hard to get the words out. “Why would you do that?” I’ve been on the receiving end of some hurtful shit, and what Aster said wasn’t nearly enough to rile me. Definitely not enough to have her brain tampered with.
A few more Floras bustle past, bowing their heads to Callan as they do, but neither of us pays them any mind.
“I’ll admit it was a snap judgement, but—”
“I’d say.”
His silver gaze cuts to me, and I swallow as he dips his head until we’re eye level, ensnaring me in his gaze. Each word comes out pointed. “She doesn’t deserve to know you.”
I blink, if only to break the intensity of his eye contact, but it doesn’t work. My attention falls to his lips instead, and when I remain silent, a slow smile curves them.
“It’s better than murdering a bunch of plants,” he adds, straightening to his full height and taking my hand. With a gentle tug, I give in to the pull, letting him lead us back down the path.
“But we didn’t get all the information we needed,” I remind him, still trying to recover from the initial shock of what he’d just done. “She didn’t tell us the dosage or the ratio of antidote to Ashvine—”
“Gemma will know. All we needed from Aster was a name.”
Callan looks down at me when I don’t respond right away, and he must catch the worry on my face, because he adds with a sigh, “It’s a big risk to take—messing with poison like that—but at least we have a last resort.
Easton is talking to Sedona today, and their coven is the most experienced in wards.
I’m sure she’ll have something that can help us. ”
I tuck the Lakelet’s expertise on wards away, saving it for later, and I nod.
We slip into a comfortable silence as we walk, and I find myself wishing so badly that I could tell him everything. All that Fenton knew, who my father was and my theories on crossing the blood ward.
I just…what if he never looks at me the same again? What if I lose the one place I’ve ever belonged to? The only place that’s ever felt like home.
It isn’t my fault. I didn’t ask for this. But what if no one believes me? Or worse, what if no one cares?
There are too many what-ifs, I decide as we walk, and I don’t have enough courage yet to risk them.