Chapter 40
I always like venturing into Vada's workroom. Between the dried plants hanging from the ceiling, the herbaceous scents in the air, the various colorful bottles and vials, and the usual presence of at least one steaming cauldron, the room feels magical. It oozes mystery, glimmers with cozy charm, and leaves me feeling warm inside like I’ve just had a gooey cookie.
Except for today.
My chest is tight. I couldn’t relax if given a sedative and laid in a cushioned bed with soft music.
At the very least, I should be excited at the prospect of potentially, finally, having the cure I’ve been desperate for my whole life.
But that’s the very last thing I’m feeling.
Instead, I’m nervous, apprehensive. What if it failed?
What if something is wrong and we have to start from scratch? Or almost worse, what if it worked?
That outcome shouldn’t fill me with dread, but it does. I’m sorry, Matt. The emotion itself feels like a betrayal, but there’s no controlling it.
Because if it works, I have to leave here. I have to get it to my brother. And I definitely have to tell Elias about the trap so that he, or anyone else, doesn’t walk into it unaware.
It might destroy this fragile thing we’ve built. I hope not, but the fear of that? It’s almost worse than anything else.
An assistant runs off to fetch Vada, leaving Elias and me standing awkwardly in the workroom. I’m surprised she’s not there waiting for us, but it is a lot later than we realized. Oops.
The cauldron that she’s been simmering when the king had literally swept me off my feet and carried me back to his bed is gone. Moved? Tossed out?
Elias’s hand rests on my shoulder, his thumb rubbing up and down the back of my neck in soothing strokes, much like the last time we were here.
He’s not dressed in his armor though. His attire is casual today: black pants, loose black shirt.
He favors that color, probably because it matches the armor he so often wears.
And though that was left in his room, his sword wasn’t.
It’s strapped across his back like always, his constant companion, even when he was disguised.
A king can never be unprepared, not even in his own home.
“It will be okay,” he whispers.
Will it? I don’t say as much. I can’t manage to say anything. All my focus is glued on the archway the assistant walked through.
Surprisingly, it’s Hallam who enters, wearing a woven dark brown overcoat around his round form, which, if I squint, looks a whole lot like a tweed jacket that one of my professors used to wear. Oddly fitting.
“My king. My Lady.” He bows at the waist before moving into the room from the threshold. His countenance is bright as he limps to us with the help of his cane. My spirits lift of their own accord.
Please.
He stops a few feet away, both hands atop the ball of his cane as he leans forward. “The concoction you requested changed color just as expected,” he beams. “Vada will be along shortly with it.”
I exhale, my body drooping as the pent-up tension leaves me in a rush. Elias’s hand tightens ever so slightly on my shoulder. His thumb stills. And my joy is suddenly clouded by the horrible feeling that maybe we just had the opposite reaction to that news.
“And,” Hallam draws out the word, “there was more to the text than the Seelie managed to unravel. Come, come.” He waves to us as he shuffles toward a nearby table. “You should see this.”
I hazard a quick glance at Elias, but his face is completely expressionless.
Hallam pulls my copies of the spell from a pocket inside his coat and spreads out the folded papers on the stone-topped table before us.
“It’s quite a good thing I was able to decipher more of this, I think,” he says.
“As it is true that a small dose can be used to completely heal a human, but a larger dose—the full dose that the potion creates—could be used for something much more…shall we say, permanent?”
There’s a gleam in his eyes, the kind a researcher gets when they’ve had a breakthrough. A rare look but unmissable once one has searched for it over the years.
“Tell us, Hallam,” Elias orders, clearly not interested in the man’s dramatics at the moment.
“It can turn a human to fae,” he announces, bouncing his hand on the table in time with each word.
My eyes grow wide as I sway backward slightly. “A human can really become fae?”
He lightly clears his throat. “It remains to be tested, but yes, I do believe that to be the correct translation.”
While the news is surprising to me, to say the least, Elias remains in a void of silence. His hand slipped from me when we joined Hallam at the table, and Elias now crosses both arms across his chest. “That is not the purpose we had in mind.”
“No,” the older fae admits. “Though I do believe it should work for what our lady intends.” His attention shifts to me. “And we have a suggestion on how to test its effect.”
A deep growl rumbles from Elias’s chest as he steps between Hallam and me. “You will not harm her to test it.”
That has me stumbling back another step.
“Oh no,” Hallam says quickly. “That is not what we have in mind. Not at all. You see, the potion is only effective once for healing. Not again. It would be unwise to waste it. But it is not only effective on humans.”
“Explain,” Elias grates out.
Assured that I’m not about to have to injure myself—again—I step closer into Elias’s side. Though he’s still stiff, arms crossed, he doesn’t move to put himself further between us, thank goodness.
“There is a note in the ancient text that indicates it may heal a fae. Not as thoroughly as a human, mind you, but to some degree. The note recommends other methods for healing our kind and deems it a waste of resources, but given the situation, it is plausible to use it for a trial if not in continued practice.”
“So, who will we try it on?” I ask. My gaze drifts to Elias, who looks like he’s about to suggest himself, when another voice answers.
“My Hallam has volunteered.” Vada almost appears to be floating as she walks into the room on light feet, her hands clasped together in front of her, something shimmering poking out of her grip.
She approaches the table and sets a little crystal jar before us. It’s no taller than a shot glass and much narrower. An iridescent purple liquid shimmers inside, filling it up about two-thirds of the way.
“Much of the liquid reduced during the brewing process. As you can see, the result is only a few drops, but it matches the amount and the color described in the recipe. We have reason to believe it was successful.” She smiles, but there’s a sadness behind her eyes as well.
“There are four doses here. All four consumed at once should turn a human to fae.” Vada lays her hand atop mine, inclines her head, and drops her voice to a whisper.
“I would not suggest that for your brother while he resides in your world.”
She does not say why, but she doesn’t need to. A fae stuck in my world would fade and die, cut off from the magic of their land. How quick would it be? Instant for a new fae who has never touched their world? My skin turns clammy. Such a thing would be a death sentence.
“I’m glad you figured that out,” I say to Hallam.
He merely nods in return. “I am pleased I could help.”
Gosh, if we hadn’t known, I’d have given Matt the whole thing, just to be sure. In trying to save him, I could have killed him faster.
“We thought it best to wait for you before Hallam tests the potion on himself. If you are agreeable to that,” Vada adds, looking to Elias for confirmation.
His hand lands atop my shoulder once more and draws me close. “Yes. We must test it before we go any further.” His voice hardens. “I—”
But whatever he planned to say, he must think better of it because he snaps his mouth shut, his lips forming a thin line as the pressure of his fingers on my shoulder increases ever so slightly.
“I sent the others off. These rooms should be clear,” Vada tells the king. Then to her mate, “Whenever you are ready.”
He gives her one stiff nod. “I am.”
Hallam settles himself in a wide chair.
“Did the instructions say what the healing would be like?” Elias asks, looking with new concern upon his friend.
“No,” Hallam replies. “Quick in its effect, but that is all.”
Elias nods once, expression closed off.
Vada has found a small spoon made of pale stone and carefully pours a small amount of the potion onto it. “No more than this for your brother.”
The shallow puddle of liquid is smaller than my fingernail.
“I’ll remember,” I assure her. I’ve come this far. I won’t mess it up now.
Careful not to spill, Hallam takes the spoon, brings it to his mouth, closes his eyes, and downs the liquid in a quick gulp.
The silence that follows is deafening. He holds the spoon midair, his whole body seemingly frozen in place. Every second has my anxiety ratcheting higher.
A sharp gasp splits the silence. The spoon falls from his fingers to clatter onto the floor.
“Hallam!” Vada lunges forward, hands on his arm and face. Elias drops to his other side, eyes wide.
No. Oh no. I clap a hand over my mouth, watching in horror as his body begins to twitch and shake like he’s having a seizure.
“What’s happening?” Vada’s voice rises. “Hallam!”
His legs kick out, barely missing me. The movement has his body sliding down in the seat. Elias drops to his knees and grabs Hallam, trying to hold him upright, amid the continued twitches and jerks of his limbs.
“Hallam!” he calls, infusing his voice with an air of command.
Suddenly, he stills. His over-large eyes flash open.
“Holy Mother, Aine,” he gasps.
Elias releases him.
“My love?” Vada takes Hallam’s face between her hands, turning it toward her. Her wings, which have been limp and still at her back, give a weak flutter. “Are you hurt?”
“Oh my dear, Vada.” He beams at her. “I think— I might—”
I hold my breath. Please be okay.
He gently pushes her arms away, and then, with an unsure grin on his face, he stands.
No cane. No wobbling.
Slowly, beautifully, like sunrise breaking across the horizon, his lips pull up in a broad, toothy grin that dimples his dark cheeks.
Elias rises, his mouth gaping open as he stares at his friend.
“Most effective,” he states simply. “Even on old wounds.”
A choked cry leaves Vada, who covers her mouth with her hand as tears begin to run down her face.
“Your legs,” she manages around sniffles.
Tears are contagious. Even science tends to agree on that.
A few streak down my cheeks before I even realize they’re there.
My whole chest feels like it could burst. I may not have known them long, but I care for Vada and Hallam.
This healing is a true miracle, one not even their potions and magic could work. Until now.
Hallam wraps his mate in a hug, laughing as she sniffles before wiping at her face and kissing him.
I glance away, feeling suddenly intrusive. Elias is there before me.
“It worked.” He smiles, and I can tell he’s happy for his friend, but the deep emotion swirling just beyond the surface is almost enough to have me breaking down in sobs too.
Maybe he can tell because he looks away and moves to the table, picking up the stoppered vial containing the rest of the potion.
Then he turns, holding it out to me. “Take it. Heal your brother.”
The little bottle is cool, unnaturally so, as my fingers wrap around it. I stare down at it in my palm, the liquid almost seeming to shimmer and move despite being still.
This is it. I have the potion I so desperately wanted to find.
I can heal Matt. Finally.
So why do I feel like I’m about to be sick right here on the workroom floor?
I slip the vial in my pocket before my nerves get the best of me and I do something truly stupid like drop the thing.
“Elias.” I glance up at him from under my lashes. I’m not even sure what to say. Nothing feels right. Instead, I reach for him, grabbing his shirt right over his chest and fisting it in my hand. “I—”
But the moment I fully lift my gaze and see the emotion literally glowing in his eyes, my words choke off. Tears blur my vision.
Elias’s head snaps toward the main door. Just beyond him, I see Vada and Hallam break apart from their embrace, glancing in the same direction.
I’m about to ask why when Katiya runs into the room, skidding to a stop when she sees us all. Her gaze quickly darts to each of us before settling on Elias.
“Brother. There’s trouble,” she says, breathing heavily. “Come at once.”