Chapter 28 #2
“No. Like this?” He gestures to his cane and legs, concealed by loose, dark pants.
“I would only slow them down. Perhaps once but no more.” He chuckles mildly before sitting slowly into a cushioned chair, the wide frame perfectly fitting his body like it was made for him, which it probably was.
The low table beside him is at just the right height for him to pore over the aged documents spread across its wooden top, but he’s not paying any mind to those right now.
It's on the tip of my tongue to ask more, but I stop at the last minute. Whether age or injury, it’s not my business.
“You’re curious what happened to my legs?” He tilts his head in question.
My eyes fly wide. “Oh no, I—”
He chuckles again, and this time I really do bite my tongue.
“Your face is very expressive. I could see the question there,” he says.
“And I do not mind telling you. A few years ago, I would have taken great joy in showing the king every inch of the castle that we have uncovered, but I perhaps got a little too eager at another site. I went somewhere I should not have gone. At least, not until we had taken measures to secure the roof.” He tsks.
“There was a collapse. My legs were pinned beneath a rock.” He gestures to them.
“I’m so sorry,” I say.
“As am I. Though I am lucky it was only my legs, or I may not be here at all.” He sets his cane against the table before leaning back in his chair with a little sigh.
“My mate is a talented healer and did the best she could, but alas.” He gives a little shrug.
“Excavating was never my best talent. Nor climbing. My real strength is here.” He taps his head, eyes twinkling. “And that is just well as ever.”
I scoot forward in my seat. “Vada is your mate.”
His large eyes widen further. “She is.” His whole face alights with joy. “I take it you have met her, my Vada?”
“She is lovely,” I say with a smile of my own.
“I like her a great deal.” Even if some of her methods for growing plants are a bit strange, though maybe effective, given what I saw before we left.
“She healed me when I first arrived at Altana. It was so much faster and more effective than our human medicine could do.”
The joy on his face had slipped away as I spoke, leaving his brows furrowed and lips pinched thin. “You were ill? Injured?”
“Injured. There was…” I rub at the back of my neck, struggling with how to describe what happened. “Anyhow, Kallan saved me and brought me to Altana, and now I’m much better.”
“Hmm, there is much you have not said, I believe.”
The comment has me squirming in my seat, suddenly feeling like a specimen under examination.
When I don’t immediately respond, he adds tone lighter, “And quite close with our king, it seems. Though not marked by him?”
“Uhh.” My whole body may as well have been lit on fire by one of the lanterns. I noted they are specifically not allowed in this room, which is lit only by dim, drifting orbs of fae lights near the ceiling.
Hallam chuckles again. “My apologies. You do not need to answer that.” He waves his hand in the air. “I have a habit of voicing my thoughts aloud. It helps me work through them.”
Thank goodness. Because I have no idea what to say to that, especially when he’s laid it out so obviously. I shift in my chair and try to put on a brave face. “I, um, do have something we hoped you might be able to help me with, if you have time.”
“Me?” He looks truly surprised before his expression shifts to one of eager curiosity. “What is it?”
I rise from my chair and pull out the copy of the potion recipe that I tucked in my pocket.
“My brother is sick,” I say as I make my way over to him and lay the two pages of the recipe, the original and the translation, in a blank space on the table before him.
“And I believe this potion could save him. However, there is one ingredient that we do not know.”
“Potion ingredients are more my Vada’s specialty than mine.” Still, he turns toward the table, bending over to squint at the page bearing the original Unseelie recipe.
“Yes, but she didn’t know it. Nor El—the king. He thought you might though, since you have studied many fae texts, and suggested I ask you. It’s this one here.” I point to it.
“Hm.” He muses, brow furrowed in concentration. “Are you sure this is right?”
No. But I dare not voice that worry. “It’s the best we have.”
“Fewli duena tuchiery.” He pronounces it slowly, as if savoring every syllable. “This first part here, fewli is a word for blood.”
“Blood?” I echo in surprise, though it ebbs quickly. For a potion that requires powdered human bone, I suppose blood isn’t much of a stretch at all.
“But this second part, duena. That is not a word I know, yet the sound of it reminds me of an old dialect. Perhaps it was written down incorrectly? Same for the last, though it sounds a bit like our name for our homeland.”
“I don’t know,” I whisper. The heaviness of the situation threatens to pull me down. I barely hold back a groan. To come all this way and be foiled by a typo?
“You wouldn’t,” he responds simply. Not an insult, just facts. “Where did you get this again?”
“It was in a book belonging to the Seelie originally.”
His bushy eyebrows jump. “The Seelie?”
“Yes.” I fight back a grimace. Perhaps I should have approached revealing that information more carefully. “The human coven I belong to borrowed it. I did not get it from the Seelie myself,” I tack on quickly. “I couldn’t bring the book, so this is just a picture of it.”
“Picture?” His attention slides from me back to the page.
“Like a painting to show what was in the book. I didn’t want to rip out a page.” Nor would they have let me.
“Good, good. It’s a terrible thing to destroy a book. But you’re sure this painting is correct?” He gestures to it before leaning forward and squinting at the page.
“Yes, of that, I’m sure.” The picture I took with my phone was crystal clear, and the printout too.
“Hmm.” He glances over the Seelie page before returning to the original. “Perhaps an error in the Seelie’s copying of it into the book? Do you happen to know how they got hold of our spells?” When he looks up again, his eyes are narrowed with suspicion.
“I wish I could tell you, but I don’t know.”
He stares silently for a moment before giving me a short nod. “I believe you. A tragedy to have part of our history lost to those thieves.”
I murmur in agreement. The theft of knowledge and history is all too common in the human world as well, especially when one group thinks itself better than the one they are stealing from.
“I am sorry I could not be of more help to you,” Hallam says.
It’s a dismissal. A dead-end. And it burns. “Thank you for trying.”
Frustrated at the dead end in my quest, I pick up the potion recipe and fold up the papers with slow, methodical precision. Having something to do with my hands is the only thing keeping me from spiraling into a panic about what to do next.
A groan from my companion jolts me from the abyss. I snap my head up to see that he’s grabbed his cane and used it to hoist himself up from the chair.
“The others may be returning. I can feel the vibrations,” he adds at my pinched look.
I can’t feel a thing, but then, fae senses are way stronger than human ones.
“I am very curious about you.” Hallam leans forward, squinting, his face so close that I have to lean away.
“You’re the first human I’ve met in…” He clicks his tongue.
“Well, a very long time. Perhaps you could indulge me when we have the time? Tell me a bit about yourself and how you came to be here? I imagine it’s quite a tale. ”
“Um, sure,” I say, trying to hold back my grimace. Personally, I’d rather risk the spooky castle, but talking sure seems like a better idea than being stuck with my thoughts.
“Very good.” From the gleam in his eyes, you’d think I just handed him a priceless treasure. But there’s no time for the inquisition to begin because, as Hallam said, the others return a moment later.
I expect a flurry of activity, but if anything, it’s more of a whisper.
Confirmation that they have indeed not overlooked anything and have yet to find the vital clues they need.
They continued clearing the way toward what they expect to be the throne room.
A painstakingly slow process, given the deterioration of the structure, their efforts to preserve what they can, and respect for those who died, whose skeletons they still recover and lay to rest via a special ceremony.
The overall mood is one of quiet disappointment, and it hangs about us all as we make it out into the night and the waiting structures the guards hastily and efficiently erected.
A pot of something warm and herby bubbles nearby, but I’m not at all hungry.
Most aren’t, it seems, as some go straight for their bedrolls.
I almost bounce in my shoes with the nervous anticipation of getting time alone with Elias again.
I highly doubt things will venture back to where my mind took me this morning, especially with so many people close by, but easing whatever this awkwardness is between us—his guilt over nearly attacking me, I assume—weighs on me like a tangible force.
Or like my pack that I left back in Altana.
There is no need for it here, with the guards bringing what we needed and the supplies already on hand.
But now I regret not bringing my journal along with the recipe.
If tonight is any indication, I’m going to have some time on my hands.
Maybe I can borrow some paper and jot down things for Matt anyway.
It’ll be a fun surprise for him when I bring home a cure.
Because it will happen. It has to.
“Aimee.”
The sound of my name draws me back to the moment. “Yes?” I blink at Elias as I clear my thoughts. It’s clear he’s been talking for some time, though I tuned much of it out since it was directed at the other fae and not me.
“You’ll take this one with Katiya.” Elias points to one of the larger yurt-like tents, his expression unreadable.
The order feels like a punch to the gut, and I don’t bother to hide my shock.
Nor does Katiya, who screws up her face in confusion where she stands next to her brother.
Elias turns to her, and they have one of those silent conversations made up of pointed looks that only two people really close to one another can have.
Unfortunately, I don’t know what they’re saying, but the fact that Elias wins the argument is obvious enough when Katiya sighs.
“Come on.” She grabs my arm, leading me off toward the appointed yurt.
I twist back to look over one shoulder in time to see Elias and a few others heading back toward the castle. “What’s going on?”
“We are going to rest. Or try to,” Katiya says, releasing me to shove aside the flap covering the doorway.
She sets a lantern down just inside, which illuminates the shadowed darkness.
The space is small and simple, just a few bedrolls visible on the mat-covered floor within and a table holding a few small bowls and pitchers, presumably for us to drink or wash with.
Katiya returns to holding the flap open for me as she stares back toward the castle.
“It seems my brother intends to continue the excavation some this evening while the team stationed here rests.”
“And it’s your duty to babysit me,” I say.
Her pink brows wrinkle.
“Watch over me,” I clarify. “Make sure no one takes me away.”
She smirks and gestures for me to enter the yurt. “Exactly.”
With a sigh, I do. What a mess. Not only did I not get to speak with Elias, but now he’s practically put me in a time-out.
Worse of all, that leaves me stuck with my thoughts.
And Katiya. Not that I don’t like her. I actually do, or I can respect her at least. But she’s not exactly the comforting type that you spill your worries on.
I’ve barely made it through the tent flap before a sharp whistle splits the air. Katiya stiffens and snaps her head toward the sound. She goes completely still save for the twitch of ears atop her head.
“What is it?” Something is wrong. Every instinct in my body as set itself to high alert, and I can almost feel the build of tension in the air. “What’s happened?”
“Canyena.” Her voice is a low whisper. Her ears twitch again, her gaze unfocused as she listens. “A pack of them, closing fast.”
“And those are?” Nothing good I’d wager from her stiff posture.
Katiya blinks rapidly before glancing to me with a wry smirk. “Vicious, poisonous beasties.”