Chapter 23 #2
Similar to intimacy between humans, passing magic this way is highly potent and inebriating for most. I imagine it’s a similar feeling humans get when they kiss someone they’re attracted to.
I’ve only ever had to use it once, when my baby sister was severely ill.
Out of necessity. And the strong elixir I’d consumed beforehand worked on her quicker than any healer could have.
If the klopse’s energy had been enough to heal him, Ramiel would’ve awoken already.
“Well, it hasn’t done much, has it?” I chide, wrinkling my nose.
I’ll never understand the appeal of eating another’s magical center to gain temporary power for yourself.
The act itself feels cruel. Which is why I partake in exclusively consuming Perri elixirs and remaining the rebound board for when Ramiel decides to partake in dark magic practices.
Though I’m hoping it will never come to that, given he’d been able to find the tallup without issue.
Pure magic and dark magic don’t coexist peacefully, and the latter is often sought after when the user cannot obtain the former. So he shouldn’t ever want to consider?—
Ramiel winces and huffs a short, breathy grunt. My thoughts crash to a halt as his eyes twitch open, struggling to find us against the sun’s brilliance. I raise a hand to shield his eyes.
“E...ther…?”
The elf turns into a tomato.
She stares at him like he’s the answer to her prayers… The longing, the desperation, the relief—all of it raw, open, and honest in the trembling of her bottom lip.
Stop looking at him like that.
Ether heaves a sigh and a tear slips from her eye, but she flicks it away before it drips down her cheek. In the light, her blue eyes sparkle like the sea north of Arioch. Exotic. Crystal clear. Melancholic.
Those eyes flash to mine, and she frowns. “What are you staring at?”
I blink at her, then look away.
Had I been staring? At her ?
I shake my head, returning my attention to Ramiel. He grunts, his arms shifting slightly. “Shh,” I say. “Don’t move. I’m going to apply this salve, but you must stay still. It might… No, it’s going to hurt.”
“Hurt?” Ramiel doesn’t seem to understand the word. His eyes fight to stay open.
I don’t waste time responding to him. His body is still limp, so I use that to my advantage, pushing my thumb into the flesh rippling around the deepest puncture and smoothing it over the swelling purple mound.
Surprisingly, Ramiel doesn’t flinch, but his eyes open wider, concentrating on me now with a razor-sharp focus I find myself blanching beneath.
Turning away, I dip my finger into the ointment and tend to the other bumps.
“Ronan?” he finally says, his voice icy, cautious. “What are you doing here?”
Ether chokes on a nasally laugh.
I’d laugh too, though the prince’s memory is nothing to joke about.
With a breath in, I plaster on a smile, raise my hands, and stand. “Sorry, am I not needed here, Your Highness? Have I interrupted your death? Then, please, do excuse my rudeness.” I don’t move, waiting for his response. If he dismisses me, though, I may have to object.
Ramiel’s eyebrows twist on his dirt-covered forehead, like his thoughts are appealing to unspoken curiosities. Finally, he blinks hard and turns to Ether.
“Ether, you’re here too?”
The elf’s grin falls immediately. This is no laughing matter. The prince is losing his memory, which isn’t a good sign.
Ramiel flicks his focus between both of us, his eyebrows still wriggling over his light green eyes. “Is there someone else here too?”
Ether and I scan each other briefly, then all around us. Neither of us knows what he means. If someone else were here, at least one of us would sense it.
“No,” we say synchronously, our voices blending like birdsong. I glare at her, and she returns it with a fervor.
The prince blinks, muttering something under his breath. With a wince, he props himself onto his elbows. “What…what happened?”
“Klopse bite,” Ether hurries. “I merely removed the poison from your system. And your servant applied some…um…”
“Salve,” I say, bored.
“Yes, salve , to the bite.” The word unfurls, foreign and accented, on her tongue.
“And,” I cut in, “we should have you examined for any other ailments. The ointment won’t heal you all the way, and a klopse’s venom can be lethal. We’ll carry you into the castle and have a healer review your wounds.”
“So you admit your salve isn’t sufficient?” Ether scoffs.
Of course she’d doubt me, though this is not the time for us to feud. What is she, a child?
“Can you walk?” I ask Ramiel, not letting her derogatory remark bother me.
If she knew the healers who work in the castle, she would be wise not to question their mastery of herbal remedies.
I don’t carry around potent blends anymore, though if Ether would like to push me, I am more than capable of stocking the items Xavelor required of me.
He stiffly nods, and Ether ushers him to his feet. She wraps his useful arm around her shoulders, then scowls at me. “Lead the way, Ronald.”
My eye twitches.
I didn’t know a blatant mispronunciation of my name would be so aggravating. But it is. And I have half a mind to lunge myself at her ropey little neck and snap it in two.
It has been too long since I’ve spent this long with an elf, and the longest I’ve ever spent speaking with one like this. No wonder our people are at odds with one another. She is perfectly intolerable.
She’s forcing me to have violent thoughts.
But I know better than to act on such cruelties.
Not missing a beat, I press my lips into a too-sweet smile and scoop my supplies into my bag. I lead them around the wall to the servants’ quarters—since no one prefers to pass through here, no one will spot the injured prince.
Ether seems to support Ramiel well enough on her own, but as we continue around the walls, her breathing gets heavier.
I don’t stop, but I do slow our pace slightly.
“Thank you,” the elf squeaks behind me. She’s quiet enough for me to feign ignorance, but I listen as she continues. “For helping him, I mean. I can only do so much, after all. The bleeding has stopped. Thanks to you.”
A pang thrums in my chest, and my nose wrinkles. Her words disturb me, but somehow, for reasons unknown, they also fill me with indescribable pride. An elf thanking a fairy. What a joke! What a revelation!
What insanity, my father’s voice cracks like a whip in my memory.
I huff, but I’m unable to let the irritability fade quick enough.
“Yes, thanks to me .” My words come out clipped and unappreciative of her gratitude, and I instantly regret it.
But it also feels liberating to not guard my words for once.
If anything, it’s what she expects from me, is it not? Unadulterated hatred?
She doesn’t respond, not even with the usual grunt she makes when I’ve offended her.
We reach a secret gate, which is disguised like the rest of the wall.
Xavelor had told me about it when we’d snuck out during our younger years.
It must not have gotten much use in the time since, because as I flatten my hand against the door’s smooth surface, it scrapes along the ground.
Dust scatters from the jamb, confirming its hibernation.
Ether passes me, dragging the prince along.
He has once again lost consciousness. I reach a hand toward him before she’s through the gate, but before I can stop them, she lifts her head over her shoulder and glowers at me with an imbalanced grin that tangles her lips into her cheeks.
At my sneer, she raises her free hand to aim a solidary finger at me.
For one glorious moment, I imagine snapping it in two.
The insolence.
The audacity.
I clench my fist and return her grin, squeezing my eyes shut. The gate shudders behind us, then clicks into place.
She’s not the enemy , I remind myself.
But if she isn’t, who is?