Chapter 38 #2
“You’re not exactly a warrior. I was curious how you’d try to save the king from those vespertines.” She glances at the uniform sinking into the water. “Cunning, aren’t you? Impersonate an official and pay the bounty. It might’ve worked too.”
I grit my teeth. “Megaera—”
She rifles through my things, finds Quin’s lifesaving money and stashes it in her cloak.
She turns and strides confidently away. “When he’s dead, I’ll return your things.”
I slump to the base of the tree, breath shallow and quick, a few beats off panicked. I shut my eyes. Think, think. I have no money, and no one else will come to help. All I have is a box of herbs and this . . . parcel—my contingency plan. But the bounty had been the key.
I force myself up and, stomach churning, continue as if my plan is still in place. This will go wrong. This can only go wrong.
I must try anyway.
Outside the vespertine hideout, I crouch and peer through bushes, taking in the wide spaces, the hill sloping to the next farm, and the dozen bulky men making the earth shake with their every step. How do I get in there?
I squint and crush a leaf in my fist. Why are they preparing mourning fires?
Is Quin already—
No. Why would vespertines mourn a captive?
A cold hand lands on the back of my neck, yanking me out of my crouch.
A gap-toothed grimace and failure bear down on me.
Sweating, I raise my hands, attempting a sheepish smile. “Take me to your leader?”
“Leader? What you want with him?” Gap-tooth—Gappius—unhooks a whip from his side.
I scurry back, tripping over my medicinal box, and land with a squelching thunk, leaves scratching my cheek.
Gappius prowls forward.
What now? What do I do now? I inhale deeply, closing my eyes, and Quin’s face flashes in front of me—a reminder what’s at stake, but also a clue what to do. I start sniffing and wipe my eyes, blinking them open. “I came here for help getting revenge.”
Gappius squints.
I scramble onto my knees and clutch at his arm. “Please let me join your cause.”
“Ya know what our cause is?”
“You—you steal from linea and share it around.” Sometimes killing those linea in the process. I cry harder. “A very bad man is to blame for my loss. I want him to pay.” Keeping Quin alive is the first step.
Gappius’s suspicion softens into gruffness. “Pretty thing like you? Dunna seem strong. What use are ya?”
I jump to my feet and lift my box. “You must get hurt often. I’m a vitalian.”
“A vitalian, eh?” He inspects me with renewed curiosity and tugs me across the soggy grass. I trot to keep up as vespertines continue to stack logs into stone circles.
I stumble alongside him, recalling that moment in the inn. They’d mentioned money; a beloved sister that needed saving.
We enter an old barn, its wooden beams sagging with age, the air thick with the smell of damp straw and sweat. The man with the freckle under one eye paces, barking orders.
He snaps his head up at our entry and I’m shoved onto my knees. “Found him peeking from the bushes. Says he wants to join us—he’s a healer.”
He steps up to Gappius and fists his shirt. His words are low and lethal. “Does this seem like the time to recruit?” He shoves him back. “Get him out of here.”
A palm descends and hauls me up.
I yank my shoulder forward. Gappius isn’t expecting resistance—I get free and throw myself at the leader’s feet. “I can help your sister.”
He raises a booted foot and shoves it against my shoulder; I rock back, exposing my face to him. He pauses. It takes a moment before his eyes lighten. “The inn. You were spying there, too.”
Whips uncoil. A dozen eyes narrow on me. At any moment, they’ll unfurl those whips, tie me up in knots of leather, and hold a debate about whether to kill me or enslave me.
The freckled man’s lips curl tight. He removes his boot from my shoulder and waves for his men to put their weapons away. His gaze hits mine with a warning. “We can always get rid of him later.”
I’m hauled roughly into a large room full of rather uniquely frescoed walls.
Like the vespertines had got bored and decided painting their triumphs over the wealthy was a grand idea.
I don’t focus on the gore for long. Disease permeates the air.
I find the source—a young woman, lying deathly still among rough woollen blankets.
She’s so young. Fourteen or fifteen at most. Innocent. Flashes of River’s youthful, smiling face have me curling a hand, reining in wisps of leaking magic.
I sink to the side of the bed, take her pulse. Frown. This is unusual, and yet . . . familiar—
I shift my gaze over her sharply. “Does she have an unusual outbreak?”
Eyes narrow on me. “You know what it is?”
“Show me.”
He pulls the fabric back from her shoulder. Where smooth skin should be, there’s a line of blue scales.
I check her blood. Indeed, this is what I encountered in the Crucible. Need to act fast.
But also . . .
I get to my feet.
“Can you save her?”
“I want something in return.”
The air tightens with hostility. Men hiss and start forwards.
Their leader raises a hand, stopping them. He steps forward and his shadow looms over me. “You want our captive.” His eyes narrow and his voice is a warning growl.
I force myself not to flinch and stare right back into his grey eyes. “Bring him here.”
His jaw twitches.
He takes in his poor sister.
“Also five teapots of boiling water, a grinder, and my medicinal box.”
He laughs, the sound ringing ominously in the confined space. “You’re quite bossy. Not afraid of us at all.”
I speak carefully. “I am afraid. But lives are at stake.”
He sweeps his gaze over me, deliberating. A tense moment, and he orders men to bring what I asked for.
The box, grinder, and water arrive first; I bow over them to prepare the teas I need to complete the intricate spell.
A few minutes later, Quin is shoved into the room, bound hand and foot. His knees thud against the floor and his loosened hair curtains his face. He slowly lifts a stubborn chin and freezes. Wild anger surges out of him, blasting through the room. And it’s aimed at me.
“What in the Arcane Sovereign’s name are you doing here?”
Unbelievable. If anyone should be upset—“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe rescuing the fool who left me behind!”
Heads swing from Quin to me and back again.
Quin glances at the vespertines in turn and smiles grimly. “We’re both in trouble now.”
All the curses I’ve hurled at him in my head the last day are pushing at my lips to come out. “You abandoned me.”
“Not very well.”
I knock back a tea without taking my eyes off him. “Sit there, and let me save you.”
Quin sinks stiffly onto his haunches.
He measures the men in the room and the lengths of their whips, and lingers on me, pouring more tea from the pot. “This is saving me?”
“Are you seriously critiquing the way I’m saving you?”
“Why not pay the bounty? I gave you enough money.”
I scald my tongue and try to hide behind all my pots. Quin’s eyes find mine.
Gah. “That was my first plan, but . . .” Between bitter gulps, I fill him in.
The vespertine leader doesn’t care about my incident with the high duke’s spy—he starts tapping his foot, gruffly telling me to get on with it.
“I need an assistant.”
He volunteers. I shake my head and point. “Him. He currently has no magic,” I say. “I’m par-linea, I can’t unseal him. Unless you think he’ll beat three of you with his bare hands?”
“Don’t underestimate me,” Quin mutters.
“Not helping,” I mutter back.
The leader peers down his nose at Quin. “Without magic, I could take down a dozen of him. Untie him.”
When the ropes loosen, Quin shakes them free and masks his pain as he stands.
I jerk a finger to a stool next to me and once he’s seated hand him my box of herbs. “Prepare a powdered concoction.” I meet his eyes quietly. “A back-up spell if this doesn’t work. One part noxbramble, three parts lunabloom, a dash of—”
Quin’s eyes jump to mine. “I know it. It’ll be ready. In case.”
He plucks herbs from the box and begins grinding as I methodically stack the necessary spell.
Sweat dribbles down my temples as I steer it into the young woman.
Her brother grabs my arm, his grip choking as he steadies me.
His desperation will bruise my skin, and it echoes the weight of my own when I couldn’t save River.
The spell’s energy burns through me in a relentless surge that eventually has my knees buckling.
She’s too young to die. Please work. Please be in time.
Heat scorches through my spine. My fingers cramp. The scent of scorched lunabloom floods my nose. Her pulse stills. My own skips to match.
The last of the spell comes out in a quick thrust, and blue and gold hues shimmer through her skin. I hold my breath as the scales flake and disintegrate—yet her chest remains still, each second dragging out like an eternity.