3. Lora #2
Corin’s gaze drifted to the bottle. “Mm.”
I’d expected him to give an update about his father’s chronic pain, but something almost dreamy swept over him, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. Was he thinking about someone special? The notion brought a smile to my lips.
He snapped out of it, brow furrowing as his gaze flicked to Erion. “So, what were you doing in Blightlands?”
Before Erion could answer, I cut in. “Let’s save that story for another time. We need to see my father and sister.” I grabbed Erion’s arm and pulled him along.
With an apologetic smile, Erion offered a small wave goodbye.
Corin raised a skeptical brow, his gaze lingering a moment longer before he shrugged and disappeared into an alley.
I steered Erion into the healing hut, and the familiar scent of herbs and crushed roots wrapped around us.
Wooden shelves lined the walls, displaying neat rows of jars and glass vials filled with salves and shimmering potions.
Behind the wooden counter, a beaded curtain of polished river stones clinked softly in the draft.
Father stood behind the counter, talking to Bram, the teenage son of the fisher family. Vela busied herself with preparing some remedy, bent over the worktable beneath the window. Her brown curls framed her heart-shaped features and cascaded down the back of her blue dress.
She grinned as she spotted me. “Lora! How was the hunt?”
I headed for the wash basin in the corner. “Good. I got an ash-maw.”
“Nice!” Her brilliant smile practically split her face.
My little sister always radiated joy, but since her boyfriend of three years had broken up with her a few days ago, I knew the smile was just a facade.
I plunged my hands into the cool water, scrubbing grime from beneath my nails. My rift-leather armor had absorbed most of the black blood and the rotten stench, thank the stars. Only my skin needed cleaning.
Father waved goodbye to Bram. “Remember, just a spoonful.”
The boy nodded and vanished outside.
“Poor Bram,” Father said, turning to us. “Both his parents are sick with the flu. Give me a wound or a broken bone and I’ll mend it in an instant, but those nasty diseases…” He shook his head.
“Father,” Vela started, tone stern. “You didn’t give him all that medicine for free, did you?”
“Of course not.” Father cleared his throat and turned away, murmuring, “Not all of it.”
He snatched a few ingredients from the shelf behind him and crossed the room to join her at the round worktable. His jet-black hair caught the light as he plopped down beside her. Vela had inherited Mother’s brown tresses, but I’d taken after Father with my inky locks.
“Father!” Vela jabbed a finger into the table. “You can’t keep giving things away for free!”
The tips of his ears reddened as he dropped the herbs into a mortar and started grinding. “Why not? We can afford it. We’re far better off than some of our fellow villagers.”
He had a point. Resources were scarce and everyone across the Queendom struggled to survive. As moon wielders, our family had a clear advantage.
Before Vela could argue that we needed the money to make more remedies, I raised my voice. “I want to introduce someone.”
Father glanced up, pestle frozen mid-grind. Erion still hovered near the entrance, a hesitant smile on his lips.
Drying my hands on a towel, I gestured between them. “Erion, this is my father and sister.”
“The name’s Maelor,” Father said in his warm baritone. “Nice to meet you.”
Vela wiggled her fingers in a cheerful wave. “Hi. I’m Vela.”
Erion approached them, studying Vela as she added petals to a paste she was mixing.
“Is that… bitterbloom?”
Vela’s face lit up. “Yes! You know herbs?”
His gaze grew distant. “The leaves taste awful, but they’ll cure stomach pain if you chew them.”
My eyes widened. Was this another fragment of his memory resurfacing?
“That’s right!” Vela clapped her hands. “Are you an herbalist?”
He stared at the flowers. “I… don’t know.”
My heart squeezed at his confusion. It had to be so difficult to remember bits and pieces, yet be unable to grasp anything important. I stepped in beside him, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
Father beamed up at him. “Are you here for healing supplies?”
He likely assumed Erion was a passing traveler I’d picked up at the docks.
“No, he’s not.” I slid into one of the worn wooden chairs between my father and sister, gesturing for Erion to join us. “I found him in Blightlands.”
“What?” Vela’s eyes widened.
Father’s gaze sliced to Erion. “What were you doing in Blightlands?”
Erion slumped into the chair opposite me. “I can’t remember.”
I launched into the story, recounting everything that had happened, including my theory that he’d stumbled into the rift and lost his memories while trapped inside.
Father heated a teapot while listening, serving us each a cup of steaming tea.
Visiting customers interrupted us frequently, pulling Father or Vela away to tend to them before we could resume.
“Lora was incredible,” Erion cut in as I described the ash-maw’s attack. “The way she wielded water into ice in an instant—it was amazing!”
Warmth bloomed through me as I reached for my cup, avoiding his intense gaze.
By the time we wrapped up the story, at least a candlemark had flown by.
“So you remember nothing?” Father’s voice was measured, his healer’s instincts probing for answers.
Erion traced the rim of his teacup. “At first, everything was blank. But then… fragments came back.”
“Like your name,” I said.
Vela nodded. “And you remembered the properties of bitterbloom.”
“And the prophecy.” I hesitated, studying him. “You knew the words before I finished speaking them.”
Father tilted his head. “That’s odd. The prophecy warns against combining the two powers. Yet here sits a man with both residing inside him.”
My chest tightened. He’d voiced the words exactly as they were forming in my mind.
Erion swallowed. “Are you saying… I’m dangerous?”
Father’s expression softened. “No, not at all. I’m just saying it’s odd.”
“Perhaps he only remembers things that were important to him.” I spoke slowly as the thought unfolded in my mind. “What if he was some kind of scholar? Perhaps an exploring one, researching the rift. That would explain why the prophecy is important to him.”
Vela nodded. “And why he ventured too close to the rift and became entrapped.”
Father’s fingers drummed against his cup. “Could be. But it’s not up to us to untangle this.” He turned to Erion. “I think you should go to the capital and see the Queen.”
Erion blinked. “The Queen?”
“The Moon Queen and her council.” Father’s tone grew firmer, falling into the decisive cadence he used when diagnosing patients. “They have all the historical records and know everything going on in the Queendom. If anyone can help you, it’s them.”
Erion’s hands fidgeted on the table. “So I need to leave and go to… the capital?”
He looked so small and helpless. Something about him tugged harder than usual at my protective instincts.
Ever since Mother died, I’d carried this hollow ache inside, a burning need to understand why I’d survived when she hadn’t. I’d spent years helping those in need in any way I could, in a desperate attempt to make myself worthy of her sacrifice.
My palm settled over Erion’s knuckles. “I think Father is right. But you don’t have to go alone.” I drew a steadying breath. “I’ll come with you.”
His hazel eyes widened. “You will?”
Father’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m sorry, what?”
Vela blinked rapidly. “But it takes several days to get there. What about the New Moon’s feast? If you go to Six River City, you’d be gone at least a week!”
“Oh, right…” I scratched my neck.
I’d forgotten we’d promised to be each other’s dates for the next New Moon’s feast after she got dumped by her boyfriend.
“I’m sorry, Vela. Maybe we can go to the next one?”
She huffed, crossing her arms.
“Lora…” Erion leaned forward. “You don’t have to. You’ve already done too much for me.”
Warmth unfurled in my chest. I reached over the table and squeezed his hand. “I know. But I want to.”
“Lora.” Father’s tone dropped in warning. “Let’s not make any rash decisions.”
“There’s nothing rash about it.” I met his eyes, jaw set. “Erion needs help. He doesn’t know the rivers or the safe places to stop.”
“And you do? You’ve never been to Six River City.”