Chapter 38
V ada measures out a small amount of powdered human bone as if it’s baking soda for a cake, not something that once was inside a human. I still can’t get over that. She dumps it into the small, black pot simmering over a crackling fire.
“Now the petals,” she says, setting aside the measuring spoon and picking up the stunning purple flower.
“One, two, three,” she counts each petal as she plucks it from the flower and drops it into the pot.
Vada stares at the brew for a moment, lips pursed, before nodding in approval.
“There now, all that’s left is your blood. Just five drops.”
I shift on my stool. How strange to be sitting in her workroom dressed in so much finery, but here we are. “You should take more than that. Keep it to use for something else. If we have to cut me anyway, why not?”
Keep it for when I’m not here. In case I can’t come back.
I try to put on a brave face, to pretend like nothing is wrong, but Elias and I haven’t spoken since our interaction in the hall.
He’s stared plenty though, the weight of his regard never leaving me for more than a moment.
He stands off to one side of the room with his arms crossed, looking like a grumpy dark knight tasked with an unpleasant assignment.
Not too far from the truth actually. At least he removed his helm and set it aside, but that only makes his heavy gaze more palpable.
Truth is, I’m one unfortunate comment or ill-timed thought away from breaking down in tears. Maybe Vada knows that too because the look she gives me as she lays a hand on my knee is downright comforting and motherly all in one.
“If you’re sure,” she says gently.
“I am.” I will do whatever I can to help them while I’m still here.
“The dagger please.” Vada holds out her hand to her mate, who has been heating a short, thin blade over the fire.
“Actually…” I glance at Elias. “Can we try the sword again?”
“Oh?” From the corner of my eye, I see her set aside the blade she’d just taken from Hallam. “To see if it will heal you again?”
I’d told her my theory on that. One she agreed with.
Hallam could not recall ever reading about such a thing.
Though we didn’t know the requirements for the human’s blood to be that of one marked by an Unseelie royal until recently either, so how many other secrets were there waiting to be uncovered?
Finally, Elias shoves off the wall. “If you wish.”
The moment he unsheathes the sword, that strange song fills the air again. It’s not as loud or overwhelming, yet it’s entirely unmissable as well.
“What is that song?” I ask, looking to the others.
The room is empty, save the four of us. There’d been one assistant determinedly analyzing some of the newly grown plants despite the celebrations, but Vada had sent them off with orders to enjoy themself for the rest of the night.
Vada and Hallam share a wide-eyed look. Elias is completely still, his jaw slightly slack.
“What song, dear?” Vada asks.
The fine hairs on the back of my neck rise. “The same one that played before, when my blood touched the sword.”
“The Hum of the Ancients,” Hallam marvels. “You can hear it? Right now?”
“Yes?” If that’s what it is. “I could hear it the moment Elias unsheathed his sword.”
“It rang out when the sword regained its power,” Elias says, staring at the blade in a new light. “But then it went silent again.”
They really can’t hear it.
“It never went silent for me,” I say. “Even before I put my blood on it.”
Elias’s head snaps up, his gaze darting to mine. “You could hear it before?”
“A little? It was very quiet.”
He keeps staring, as thrown off as I’ve ever seen him.
“What does that mean?” I ask.
When Elias does not respond, I look to the other two.
Hallam blinks rapidly before clearing his throat. “I am not certain,” he says, “But I believe you must be touched by Fate. Perhaps you were always meant to give your blood to the sword, and it knew it before we did.”
The edge of a nervous laugh catches in my throat. “You make it sound like it’s alive.”
“Power that old,” Hallam starts. “Well, it is a thing unto itself.”
One that I’m now connected to. Or maybe was all along. How strange.
“Do you still wish to use the sword?” Elias asks.
“Yes.” I hop off the stool, skirts of my dress rustling. “Maybe it will sing again. Or hum?” Yes, hum sounds right. Both word and song in one. It’s definitely a hum, though I don’t know what it’s saying, but there is a message there, if only I could understand it.
Vada slides from her own stool and scoops up the crystal bowl she’d set aside for collecting my blood. Using his cane for balance, Hallam comes around the table to join us.
“I am very eager to see what happens,” he says with no small amount of eagerness glittering in his large eyes.
“Should we take it from my wrist?” The thought makes me a little nauseous, but it’s sure to be effective. An IV would be vastly preferable, but they don’t seem to have those here.
Vada has barely opened her mouth to respond when Elias snaps, “No.”
We turn to stare at him.
“I will not risk a deep wound that may not promptly heal,” he says.
My lips thin. It’s not like I won’t be careful. And their slaves heal with startling speed anyway. I open my mouth to say as much, but he stops me.
“A finger only,” he says. “It shall suffice.”
“Overprotective,” I mumble.
“Of my mate?” The intensity of his stare and the emotion behind that word fill me with a rush of warmth. But they have nothing on what he says next. “Always.”
I have to look away to keep from swooning. The rollercoaster of feelings never ends with this one. “Fine,” I agree. “As long as we get enough.”
Vada positions the bowl. “Whenever you are ready.”
Elias nods to me, holding the blade steady.
An open jar of healing salve sits on the table, and I dip a finger in it so that I’m ready to rub it over my other hand and stop the bleeding when we’re done. I slide my finger along the edge. A sharp burning races up my arm, and I hiss at the pain.
Blood wells and falls. But the blinding light does not return. Nor does the song increase in volume.
“That’s plenty,” Elias grates out, lowering the sword.
“No.” I watch my blood drip into the bowl. “I can give more. Please. You weren’t so opposed when it was for your sword.”
He flinches, and I almost feel bad, almost. “The potion needs five drops,” he says. “You have more than enough.”
It seems Vada is as stubborn as I am because she doesn’t lower the bowl. A deep, rumbling growl emanates from the king’s chest as he watches.
“How fascinating.” Hallam leans over the blade, squinting at it. The very clean blade, which Elias did not wipe down.
“It absorbed the blood,” I say, somewhat horrified.
“Yes,” Hallam muses. “But without the other effects of before.”
Definitely no healing if my throbbing and bleeding finger is any indication. Bummer.
“How does it feel, my king?” Hallam asks.
“The same,” Elias says. His voice still holds an edge as he stares at me rather than the blade in question. “Powerful but the same as before.”
Hallam merely nods as if he expected that. “Fully recharged, but the blade still takes the blood. We should try again after you have used its power.”
After a battle. After he fights the Seelie. The thought leaves my mouth suddenly dry as I stare at the drops of blood, which have slowed. “Then you definitely need more of my blood to save for later.”
It was maybe the wrong thing to say. Elias looks away before sheathing his sword. Both Hallam and Vada fall quiet, neither looking at me or each other, as if they’d rather be anywhere else.
Shit.
I really should have thought that through before speaking.
But none of them seem surprised. Elias, of course, already knows.
And Vada and Hallam know the purpose of my potion and where my brother is.
They’re smart. They clearly know I plan to give it to him and will leave them to do it. And yet, they’re helping me.
Guilt tries to smother me. Tears prick at the corner of my eyes, and I try to focus on the pain radiating from my hand to ignore the worse ache in my heart.
“That is enough for now,” Vada says at last, breaking up the terribly awkward bout of silence.
I nod, struggling to find the right words and scared of using the wrong ones again. She pulls the bowl away. One last drop falls to the stone floor before I smear the salve across the wound. What a precious waste.
Vada returns to the work table where she takes her smallest measuring spoon, scoops up a little of the blood, and carefully adds five drops to the cauldron. As she does, I clean off my wound and wrap a thin strip of cloth around the finger.
I expect a poof of smoke, magical sparkles, or something to emanate from the cauldron and indicate that we did it right, but nothing happens.
“How will we know if it works?” I ask, my voice a little hoarse and still choked with emotion.
If she notices, she pretends not to. “Well, now the instructions say to bring it to a simmer, let it rest three days, then simmer again. I suppose we shall see what it looks like at the end of that time and whether it seems viable or not.”
So, we still might not know, even once it's done.
“I need to be sure,” I say. “Before I give it to my brother.” Before I leave this world to give it to him.
She meets my gaze, a knowingly look in her eyes, but merely nods.
“I will spend more time looking over the original script,” Hallam says, hobbling around the table once more. “Some of the notes in the bottom were in the ancient language and not translated by the Seelie. I will compare them to my notes on the language and see what I can make of them.”
Elias, who at some point has come up behind me, lays a hand on my shoulder, and I nearly jump out of my skin.
“Thank you,” he says to the others.
“Yes, thank you,” I echo once I recover.
The feel of his metal gauntlet on my bare shoulder is strange—and weirdly hot. When he strokes his thumb up the top of my spine, all my attention narrows to that touch. It’s utterly distracting. Maybe that’s why he’s doing it. Maybe he needs the distraction too.
“Keep the purpose of the potion secret,” the king orders.
Because if anyone knows what it's for, they will know I plan to leave. And that will not be good for them. Or for him. No wonder Elias told so few what I sought, only those he trusted most. My shoulders droop, but he still keeps rubbing the back of my neck in a way that says he has me, that it’s okay.
And damn if I don’t just want to curl up against his chest and hide, despite the fact that he’s the one probably hurting even worse than me.
“Of course,” Vada replies. “Hallam and I will keep watch on it at all times and let you know how it progresses.”
Seconds later, Elias scoops me into his arms. I squeal, grabbing for his neck to steady myself.
“What are you doing?” I ask indignantly.
He adjusts his grip, flexing his fingers on my thigh. The look in his eyes as he stares down at me is downright scalding. “I intend to savor every moment I have with my mate.”