Chapter 21
Chapter twenty-one
Corvin found her sitting on the stone walk, her back leaned against the overgrown bench. She couldn’t risk sitting on it.
“There you are,” he said, and after several moments without a reply, he settled beside her.
Lux didn’t move. Her chin rested on her bent knees, her gaze upon the brambles. Her eyes were focused solely on the ground beneath. On a hand—it’s pointed nails grey and cracked—raking in the dirt over and over. A slightly bent wrist was attached to it. The rest disappeared into the undergrowth.
“Do you see it?” she asked.
“See what?”
“The hand.”
She waited for him to speak. Waited to see if the apparition would reveal more of itself. Waited for the nightmare’s voice to return.
“No.”
“But I do. It’s the third time. Seeing something that isn’t really there. But I’ve felt it before then. In my head. I’ve felt it growing bolder since Verity.”
Corvin’s palm cupped her far shoulder, his arm draping heavily along her back. “It’ll be all right, Lux.”
Her attention flicked to his touch, and when she looked again at the brambles, the corpse-like hand retracted until it was gone. “It doesn’t feel like it.”
“I told you I’d take you to see our healer. And I’m here to make good on that promise.” His gloved fingers tightened on her shoulder before dropping away. He stood and stretched out his hand. “Come with me. He’s waiting.”
It felt like she’d only blinked, and she stood again before Alixsander’s portrait. By the next they were down a third-floor corridor and standing at one of its black doors. Corvin knocked.
The door swung inward on Lux’s next breath. A person stood behind it. Short and portly, robed and hooded.
“You’re late,” he said.
“My apologies,” said Corvin.
“It was my fault,” said Lux.
Lord Artemis, the healer, sniffed from beneath his hood and marched into the room.
Corvin indicated for her to go in ahead and she did, her eyes on the table and shelves and everything in between. Her heart clenched. It looked so much like her workroom—aside from the clearly nicer finishes—her grief rebounded. She did not miss Ghadra. But she missed that room a startling amount.
Dried herbs hung from strings slung along one wall while bottles and jars and vials made up another.
Drawing farther into the room, Lux stared longest at the counter, where all manner of tortuous looking instruments were set.
Her heart released as her jaw clenched instead.
Now this was less reminiscent of her workroom and more the mayor’s.
She stared hardest at the line of needles.
Her nerves jolted when the door snicked closed behind them.
“Now, Ms. Thorn. Lord Corvin tells me you’re experiencing some unwanted symptoms related to your fascinating gift of necromancy. Do tell me more.”
Lux eyed the healer warily. He skirted about the room until he found a stool beside his questionable counter whereupon he sat and propped his feet on the rung. Waiting.
She glanced at Corvin, who nodded his support. Go on, that gesture said.
Lux drew a long breath. “I performed a revival two days ago. I fainted immediately following. That’s never happened, not once. Afterward—”
“How long have you been practicing?”
She frowned at the interruption. “Nearly a decade.”
“Hmm. Okay. Continue.”
Her stare narrowed. “Then I performed a smaller revival, for hopelessness. That one only left me with a strange buzzing, but I stayed conscious. Although for Mistress Lefroy—”
“Our investor?”
“For her, I fainted again.”
“I see.” His finger crept onto the counter where he began to toy with a syringe. “Have you ever exercised your brilliance so much in a single day?”
Lux worked quickly through her memories. “No,” she said.
“It could be that you overtaxed yourself. Or you were ill from something else. A virus, perhaps, that only needed to run through your system.”
“I don’t—”
“Get up onto the table, Ms. Thorn.”
“Excuse me?”
The healer rose from his stool. “I will need to perform an exam. You deny it could be a virus. Or that you were overtaxed. So I will have to assess for myself.”
Lux scowled across the room at Corvin, who shrugged apologetically.
Old men, he mouthed and rolled his eyes.
She stepped toward the table.
“Up. Up.” The healer patted the gleaming surface.
Lux’s exhale was more a hiss, but she did as told. She climbed up and sat, facing him.
“Anything else I should know before I begin? Less guesswork is always best when it comes to healing.”
Lux cleared her throat, acutely aware of Corvin behind her. She couldn’t decide whether she preferred for him to stay or go.
I would prefer not to be here at all.
“Nightmares aren’t new for me, but lately, I’ve been having them where the monster waiting for me is me.
Only it’s worsened, somehow. This morning, my bathwater turned black.
By breakfast, I swore I saw myself in the dark.
Even heard the thing speak. Just before I came here, I experienced it again. A hand in the garden.”
“Hallucinations,” murmured Artemis. “All right. Lie back.”
Her muscles contracted at once. “Is that necessary?”
She’d never lain on her, or rather Riselda’s, table—ever. Even when having her broken ankle set by that physician in Ghadra, she’d been propped. Just the idea felt abhorrently vulnerable.
“I’m afraid so. Here’s a support.” He reached beneath his counter to retrieve a flattened pillow covered in some sort of garden debris. He swatted it clean before laying it at the table’s end. “Go on now.”
Lux swung her legs onto the table and very carefully lay backward. She loathed every second; when her head hit the pillow, she choked on the scent of mildew.
“Very good,” said the healer. “Corvin, come hold her hand.”
Lux pushed to her elbows. “Why would he need to do that?”
“Because assessment can be disconcerting. I will need samples. Hair, to start.”
Corvin came to stand beside the table. “He’s assessed me before,” he said. “It doesn’t bother much.”
Lux eased again to her back and searched for Artemis. He’d retreated to his counter. When he turned around, he carried a puffing beaker, a pair of tweezers, and the smallest blade.
He set them beside her head. “Hair first.” He plucked a strand, and Lux scowled. He dropped it into the beaker where it sizzled to nothing. “And now blood.”
Her insides seized. “I don’t think so.”
The healer’s hood shifted toward her; he’d been reaching for her hand. “Why don’t you think so?”
“Because I was told never to offer up my blood.”
“Don’t you ever, darling. Do you understand?” Riselda’s hand lay atop Lux’s head. “That’s the main ingredient—in curses.”
“Who told you that?”
Lux gritted her teeth. “Someone who didn’t want me ever to be cursed.”
“Well lucky for you, my dear, I am a healer, not a curse-wielder. And even if I were, curses are not all they’re made out to be. Would you really suffer so much if I cursed you with two left feet or the inability to love?”
Lux swallowed hard. “Yes. I think I would suffer a lot actually.”
“We don’t need to agree. But you do need to believe me in that I won’t harm you. That this is the only way.”
“Go on, Lux,” said Corvin. “He’s telling the truth.”
Her teeth pressed harder together. She didn’t know to whom she should listen. She prodded at her instincts for some insight, but other than the fierce prick of nerves and a growing despair, she felt nothing distinct.
If she was broken beyond repair…
“Fine,” she bit out. “Only a little.”
Like it mattered.
“Excellent,” said Artemis with entirely too much glee. He sliced the pad of her middle finger.
Lux hissed, but she didn’t move. She allowed the healer to hold her finger over the beaker until several fat drops landed inside. They sizzled, same as the hair.
“Once more now,” he said.
“Again?” She took the wrapping from his outstretched hand and wound it around her fingertip.
“The foot this time.”
Lux immediately met Corvin’s frost-like stare. “It was the same for me,” he said.
“Of all the saintforsaken hells…” she grumbled.
Lux sat forward, and they gave her room. She unlaced her boot first then removed it. She stared at the stocking a moment before easing her skirt marginally higher. Her cheeks heated as she worked it free.
She lay back when she was through, staring at the herbs, and only winced a little when the sharp pain nipped through her toe. This time, the healer wrapped it for her.
“Perfect,” he said. “Now drink.”
Lux stared at the thimble he offered her. “Is that the elixir?”
“It is. An amount appropriate for the size of you. Drink up.” She reached for the thimble and lifted her head, downing it in one swallow. “Her hand, Corvin,” she heard him say, but already, it sounded far away.
Corvin’s hand settled over hers.
At first, Lux didn’t grip it back. While everything felt distant, it didn’t otherwise feel abnormal.
Then the pulsing started. She noticed it in her heart first, which made sense, she supposed, but she soon tightened every muscle as her every vessel came alive.
They beat, fast and thudding, and once they began to squirm, she held onto Corvin’s hand as if it were her only anchor to the real world.
“Oh. Oh dear,” someone said.
Lux couldn’t tell if the tremors were inside or out, but her vision warped. Things moved across her pupils. “Wait. It’s too much,” she seethed.
Corvin only squeezed her hand tighter.
“This is not good news.”
Lux opened her mouth; she practically panted. She could feel the pressure of fingers on her temples but didn’t know what they did. “Please,” she begged. “How much longer?”
“Just…a little…ahh. There. That’s it.”
The pressure left her forehead, and her veins stopped rioting at once. The pulsing remained elsewhere, but even that eddied with the next few beats of her heart. Lux allowed her eyes to fall closed, her hand to grow limp. She felt Corvin pull away.
“Disconcerting?” she said, low and murderous.
“Do you need a jolt?” said the healer. His voice, at least, had returned to its normal distance. “I keep a fresh carafe in my workroom.”
“A jolt? That feels like what just happened!” Her eyes flew open, and in her next breath, her legs swung around to sit. Her wounded toe dangled, bandaged and throbbing. “You need to warn people beforehand. I wasn’t at all prepared!”
Her entire chest hurt. Her time in the mansion’s underground had left scars she hadn’t fully realized until now. To be beneath someone’s brilliance without means of escape… Her eyes welled with tears. She flung her hands up to stifle them.
“Would you still have done it?” he said.
“It depends if it worked.” She heaved more slow breaths and then lowered her hands. “Well?”
Artemis inclined his head. “It worked precisely as it should, Ms. Thorn.” He held a book out by either cover, its pages exposed to her.
It revealed a figure, bent on their knees, a noxious cloud billowing from their head.
A description she couldn’t make out had been transcribed beneath it.
“Mania Malus. Or rather, the madness of brilliance. Quite advanced, too, considering your hallucinations. I find myself dreadfully intrigued.”
Lux heard Corvin’s sharp inhale before losing her hearing entirely.
A terrible whooshing sound had replaced all else.
The young collector came around the table, his hand trailing along her frozen arm.
When he stood in front of her, she stared up at him.
She didn’t know what he saw. Only that his face fell afterward.
He said something, but she couldn’t hear it.
He slumped onto the healer’s stool. His head dropped into his hands.
Lux noticed her vision tunneling. What an odd thing. She reached out to steady herself against toppling forward, but her fingers were numb. Her feet, too, in fact.
“I need... I’m…” she mumbled, and her lips tingled where they touched. You cannot faint here, she admonished herself. You will not—
“Breathe with me,” echoed a memory. But it came too late.
Lux slumped forward as her vision went dark.