32. Regent
REGENT
“You’ve left these wounds unattended for too long,” Imogine chastises, sounding just like her mother.
However, there is relief in her being the one to tend to them, opposed to the old hag.
It’s about now that the assassin should be with Esther.
My knuckles whiten as I think of them alone together in the tent.
Imogine’s finger trails over the scars on my back. They connect to my fresh and still-healing arm, which is doing far better than it was a week ago when I first arrived.
“You can’t just keep putting your clay on it and hope for the best,” she says. “It was reckless going out in your condition to acquire those items. It doesn’t usually take you this long to heal.”
“Her magic is different,” I admit out loud, and I’m certain it’s why the damage has taken so long to recover from.
Greers don’t usually have an upper hand against me, no matter how powerful, even if they’ve mastered their element.
But an omni born, the only limit is what the body can channel and maintain.
If not, they will be eaten away in the process.
Her magic is enough to rival mine, and in given time, if she frees herself from each element, potentially she’ll even surpass the likes of me.
Imogine steps in front of me, the shine of her honeycomb skin richer in golden hues than her mother’s, who has dulled in age. They both, however, harbor an uncanny charm in the way of their sharp temperament.
“If you hadn’t prioritized lifting her curse, I could’ve assisted your healing before the full moon.
This has only delayed the process,” she reprimands.
My eyes snap to hers, but she stands her ground.
I grow uneasy around those who know of my identity, but never have I questioned if the Tahil clan would use it in their favor.
“It’s never been an issue before,” I grumble, resting my chin in my hand, comparing the similar layout in the tent to her mother’s, if only slightly smaller in size.
The only reason it’s an issue is because I’m more susceptible to Felia-blessed magic.
I also prefer being tended to here because it’s far less conspicuous.
“Not been an issue?” she scoffs. Her golden hoops and bangles clatter against one another with her movements. I don’t meet her eyes this time, in denial that this isn’t the first time she’s had to patch me up, especially just before the full moon. She’s one of few who know my weakness.
“You know my healing magic doesn’t work the same around this time,” I finally grumble.
“Yes, I’m aware,” she says, seeming smug that I admitted it out loud as she rubs a pre-crafted herb clay, rather too vigorously, on my shoulder. “Because I’m the one who fixes it.”
“And for that I am grateful.” I dip my head appreciatively. A blush deepens her cheeks, and the smell of her arousal hits my nose.
“Don’t do that with me. You know I’m hand-fasted now,” she says, sauntering toward her workbench as she refers to her mate.
It goes without saying that I didn’t do or say anything. The only woman that pesters my carnal urges is a certain little omni greer, whom I haven’t been able to flush out of my system from the first night she let me touch her.
“That’s right, the hunter, isn’t it?” I say, shoving the thought of Esther into the back of my mind, once again caught in the challenge of her curves that haunt me.
She ignores my attempt in shifting the direction of conversation.
“You need to take better care of yourself, Regent. You’re not invincible,” she reminds me, giving me an effective glare over her shoulder.
I, out of all beings, don’t need to be reminded.
She rubs herbs into my shoulder again and chants.
I ease into her touch, grateful for the immediate relief it offers.
“This should hasten the healing until your magic replenishes, then you’ll be as good as new. Somewhat.”
“Thank you.” I move my shoulder back and forth, relieved by its flexibility.
She walks back toward her workbench, placing down the bowl and grinder among the assortment of herbs and potions. “Why are you protecting that greer?” She doesn’t turn to face me as she packs away her herbs.
“She’s easy on the eye,” I reply, putting back on the loose black shirt she provided. Although the Tahil clan could be considered the closest that I trust, it doesn’t bode well when my personal motives are being questioned.
Imogine turns now, crushing more herbs into a bowl.
“You always take what you want, Regent, and you certainly don’t take in strays.
My mother hasn’t explained the finer details to me yet, but I can sense that girl is Felia blessed.
Only trouble will follow you if you keep her by your side.
” Her yellow eyes see past me, much like her mother, with that wisdom that I’ve depended on in the past. “Even if she’s easy on the eyes, you don’t do close. Remember?”
My temple jumps, as I’m eerily aware that although we might’ve lain together once, there was nothing more than heat and pleasure exchanged. That certainly didn’t mean she knew me, nor does it put her in a position to question me.
“I have my reasons.”
“Your reasons affect all of us,” she grits.
“What happens when she finds out what you really are? Having her at your side is dangerous, and it’s only a matter of time until King Saldom finds you again.
What you do impacts all of us, and I, for one, do not want to risk it all on some greer who’s barely come of age. ”
My jaw grinds at the mere mention of King Saldom, and Imogine seems wiser than to hint at the subtle shift in the room as her gaze quickly drops to the floor. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Sheila croons from the tent entrance as she walks in with her cane.
“It is your duty to protect our people,” she reminds her daughter.
“We do not take outsiders in, and especially not someone such as her. It’s only because of you that we have done so, but you put us in a compromising position. ” She pointedly looks to me.
“If we’re able to stay just a few more nights so that we can heal and my magic replenish, we’ll leave. I appreciate everything you’ve done.”
Sheila begins to laugh, shaking her head as she sits across from me.
It’s always been unnerving the way the woman speaks down to me, daring, unlike most. “With how you’re recovering right now, you think it’s best to move from here?
That girl needs to rest easily for a few weeks herself.
Please, we’re the only ones you can depend on. ”
“That doesn’t make me ignorant to the fact that I’m putting you all in danger.”
“That might be so, but it’s our choice, as well, and we will serve you as we always have,” Sheila replies matter-of-factly. “But, boy, you’ve been an idiot. The moment you brought her here, the Fates haven’t stopped yapping, and it’s driving me insane.”
“Why are the Fates so heavily involved with her?” Imogine asks, looking between her mother and me.
Sheila stares at me, those all-knowing eyes piercing through me, waiting for my admission. Either I tell Imogine or her mother will. Considering the risk they take harboring us, I’m not in a position to ask them otherwise.
“She’s omni,” I quietly admit.
The bowl Imogine was holding clatters to the floor. “What? But they were wiped out like… fifteen years ago.”
“Around the same time you were cursed,” Sheila tacks on. “Do you not find that a coincidence?”
My jaw grinds painfully hard from the way they both ask personal questions when others know better than to pry. But I’d be lying if I said I haven’t already considered it. The timing of events, and everything that’s passed since then. Have the Fates been playing this game for that long already?
Realization seems to dawn on Imogine. “You need her for the ritual to lift your curse.”
I stand, uncomfortable by how much they already surmise. That they, of all people, know the spiral of my insanity, trying to get even to this point.
Imogine continues, “We need to train her immediately. If she can do the ritual now—”
“No.” I’m quick to cut her off. The two women look at me, Sheila’s stare narrowing. “She’s not ready; her binding has only just come undone, and it’ll eat her alive attempting that ritual.”
“Least of all, spirit is a difficult element to nurture. It’s not the same as the others in how it’s harnessed as a weapon,” Sheila adds sternly. “Much of it balances on a tightrope that she is not near ready to trial, considering the lack of control she has over her emotions and power.”
“So, we just wait when we have the opportunity now?” Imogine whispers harshly. “Are you crazy? You’ve been waiting for this for fifteen years.”
“It doesn’t matter. I still don’t have all the items I need.”
“You care for her,” Sheila hums in that whimsical way of hers.
“I care for nothing and no one.”
Sheila laughs, a dry cough in its wake. Imogine falls to her side, offering her a bottle of deep blue liquid. “You pushed yourself this week. Drink, Mother.”
She does as she’s told, her hands shaking as she holds the bottle to her lips.
I turn, hating to see how over the years she’s aged from the once-magnificent prime spirit greer.
But like all living things, death waits for her.
And Sheila has definitely surpassed an ordinary lifetime, now at one hundred and eighty.
Sheila pushes the drink away after a few mouthfuls. “You don’t have the luxury of time, Regent. The Fates did not push you two together, so you can marinate on ‘what-ifs.’ Armies will come for her. King Saldom will turn every stone to get to her.”
“Do you think I don’t know that!” I roar, two stones flinging and shattering bottles on the workbench, which quickly fall and bleed over the side. Sheila’s eyes narrow on my outburst.
“That greer is unbound and has mastered her first element.”
“She only knows one? Neina, we’re fucked,” Imogine whispers, abhorred.