xxxvi. In which Charlotte tests her cure #2
She cleared her throat. She was a healer, for God’s sake. This was the whole business of her life. Not something to panic
about.
“We’ll let you sit another hour and see what happens.”
Another hour made no change, but another dose would empty their supply. Charlotte’s hands shook as she gave Elspeth the rest
of the acorn water. She had no more acorns to do a new batch. If this didn’t work—
Stop it. She didn’t usually panic so much when treating a disease.
But she’d never meaningfully treated the sickness. This was a new treatment, yes, a possible cure, and it had worked on the
grass. But a blade of grass was not a human body.
It was agonizing. Elspeth slumped in her armchair with her eyes closed, her breath rattling. The plant creature swayed between
them, its tendrils turning from Charlotte to Elspeth and back.
She’s just another patient.
Charlotte busied herself doing what she could to ease Elspeth’s pain and breathing, but it wasn’t much.
Just another patient, she repeated like a mantra, just another patient, but it didn’t work. Elspeth was not just another patient, no matter how Charlotte tried to convince herself.
At some point, Elspeth fell asleep. Charlotte moved her collar aside, holding her breath. The veins seemed less extensive.
She let out a breath and smoothed Elspeth’s hair. Rather than waking her, Charlotte decided to give it another hour. To distract
herself, she pored over the sketches of Arthur sitting every which way in his armchair but right, his nose in a book.
You’ll never find me, his voice echoed in her head. She pictured his face ghostly in the terrible trees outside. She swallowed.
“I will,” she whispered. “I will find you. I will.”
She put the drawings away; they reminded her of the faces and voices in the trees. She pulled the plant creature into her
lap. It shaped itself vaguely into different animals.
Elspeth awoke with a lazy stretch. Charlotte was at her side in an instant. The plant creature clung to the back of her chair,
as if to get its own look.
“How do you feel?” Charlotte asked.
“Better.” Elspeth breathed in deeply. “I can breathe. Ain’t so cold anymore, neither.”
“And the pain? The fatigue?”
“Gone,” Elspeth said. “All gone. What about—”
Charlotte peeled back her collar.
The black veins had vanished.
She touched Elspeth’s stitches, hardly believing what she saw. Smooth, unblemished tawny skin. The wound’s edges weren’t even
red anymore.
She met Elspeth’s eyes. “It’s gone.”
Elspeth’s breath caught. “All of it?”
“All of it.”
Elspeth whooped and leaped up from the chair. Charlotte laughed, half crying with relief. Elspeth must be feeling better,
she thought, to move like that.
Elspeth whirled them around the room until Charlotte was dizzy. The plant creature slung itself out of their way and curled
up by the stove.
They stopped by the door, faces flushed.
“You did it, Lottie.”
Charlotte wiped her eyes on her apron. “Maybe.”
Elspeth laughed. “Maybe, nothing.”
“Maybe. It looks good, certainly, and your scar makes me hopeful, but I’ll have to repeat the test on another person, if I can—we’ll
have to find more acorns—and you might need to repeat treatment to make sure the symptoms don’t return—”
Elspeth gripped Charlotte’s arms.
“Lottie. Take the win. You did it.”
Charlotte’s eyes darted over her face, down to her stitches. Half expecting the black veins to have returned. But they hadn’t.
“You really feel all right?”
“Yes.”
Charlotte couldn’t stop staring. She’d lost every patient infected with wood sickness. Two hours ago, Elspeth had been exhausted,
cold, her breath rattling. Now she looked like she’d never been sick a day in her life.
“I did it,” Charlotte whispered. “I cured it.”
“You did.”
Elspeth’s hands were warm on her arms.
Charlotte laughed. “I did.”
Dizzy with her triumph, she grabbed Elspeth’s collar, pulled her in, and kissed her.
A sharp inhalation. Elspeth braced herself against the door and kissed her back, hungrily, until Charlotte was breathless.
They stood forehead to forehead, breathing hard. Elspeth touched her cheek.
Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut. It had been so long since she’d done anything like this. Years. She’d been so concerned
with maintaining—both her propriety and her ability to carry on—that she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it.
“Take me to bed,” she whispered.
“You sure?”
“Please.”
Elspeth’s hand slipped into hers. She led Charlotte across the room and pushed her gently into the little bed in the corner, leaned in. Her kisses were soft now, like Charlotte was something to be handled carefully. Something precious.
One hand cradled Charlotte’s face. The other traced down her neck, over her bosom, lower and lower. She pushed Charlotte’s
skirt up over her hips, worked at her underthings until her hand found its way between Charlotte’s thighs.
Charlotte gasped and shuddered, tears spilling down her cheeks.
Elspeth pulled away. “We don’t have to do this.”
“I want to.”
Elspeth wiped her tears away. “You’re weepin’, Lottie.”
Charlotte sat up, sagging against her. “It’s just . . . it’s been so long. Since Sasha was born. John died so soon after,
and I haven’t . . .”
Elspeth kissed her forehead. “S’all right. We don’t have to.”
“I want to.” Charlotte wiped her eyes. “Unless you don’t want to.”
The corner of Elspeth’s mouth turned up. “Ain’t the first time a woman’s turned the waterworks on to me. I just want you to
be sure.”
“You must be dreadful, if women are always crying in bed with you.”
Elspeth let out a bark of astonished laughter. Charlotte giggled wetly. Good Lord. She’d giggled. How long had it been since she’d done that?
“You must be dreadful,” she repeated, “and I’ll go on thinking you’re dreadful until you prove otherwise, so unless you’d
like a black mark on your record—”
“Can’t have that, can we?” Elspeth murmured against her lips, pushing her back again.
Charlotte slid Elspeth’s braces down over her shoulders. Elspeth sat back and tugged her shirt free of her trousers, pulled it over her head.
Charlotte’s breath hitched. She touched the hollow of Elspeth’s throat, the dip between her breasts. Cupped one of them in
her palm. With a low murmur Charlotte didn’t quite hear, Elspeth kissed her neck, her hand slipping back beneath Charlotte’s
skirt and between her thighs. Charlotte clung to her and breathed her name.
No black mark was added to Elspeth’s record that afternoon.