Chapter 28
Ceri
Iburst into the healer’s quarters, and Enid whirled around. “What is this?” I held up the vial, the tiniest drop of blue liquid settled in the bottom.
Her pet vine slithered across the floor, curling around one of my legs. I leaned down and patted it.
Enid frowned from where she stood at her wooden table, a pestle in hand that she was using to squash what smelled like garlic. “I haven’t the faintest idea. What’s going on, Ceri? Why do you look so rattled?”
I ran forward and slammed the vial onto the table in front of her, Vine following and slithering up the table. “I need to know what this is, what it does.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “And is that how you ask nicely?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m sorry. It’s an emergency. Well, I think it is anyway.”
Ever since I’d left that tent over an hour ago, I’d had this ominous feeling that something was wrong. Very wrong. I couldn’t get Siobhan’s words, Cillian’s odd behavior lately, or this vial out of my mind. All of it was connected, I was sure, but I didn’t know how.
“Biting your nails is bad for you, you know.” Enid nodded to my thumb, currently in my mouth. “Nevan does it all the time, and I’m constantly reminding my dear husband that it’s very unsanitary.”
Vine reached out to touch the vial, and Enid swatted it away. The plant slumped down as if to pout.
I dropped my hand to my side. “Bad habit. Now, please, can you tell me what this is?”
She picked up the vial, bringing it close and studying the small drop left. “I don’t know,” she said. “But I can try to find out. Why don’t you sit down?” She gestured to a stool by the desk. “And start from the beginning.”
I told her about Cillian’s odd behavior since these trials had started. About Siobhan’s warnings, and about how this vial had fallen out of his pocket in the tent today.
I thought back to all our interactions while Enid listened patiently, bending and taking notes in her journal.
“You know,” I said, “now that I’m thinking about it, I’ve noticed Cillian reaching in his pocket a lot lately, and I didn’t think much of it. But he must’ve been reaching for that vial.”
Enid stared at her journal, gaze flicking to the vial. “Let’s take a closer look, shall we?”
She reached for a contraption that had a circular lens on the bottom and tipped the vial onto it. Then she put her eye up against a tube that led to the lens.
She sat up straight, and Vine jolted upright as well.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re biting your nail again.”
I stopped, hand tightening into a fist. “What’s in that vial, Enid?”
“I believe it’s a substance called heartstopper.”
I nearly fell off my stool.
Enid raised a brow. “You’ve heard of it, then?”
“I’m familiar with it, yes. My father . .
.” I started, all the memories of that horrible day my sister died flooding me.
“It was right after my sister died. My father fell apart. He was so distraught, he could barely function. The healer at the time suggested heartstopper as a way to numb his feelings until he could manage them.” I shook my head.
“But why would Cillian have this? Why would he take it?”
Enid gave me a look like I was an idiot. “I don’t know, Ceri. I suspect out of everyone in Fairwitch Isle, you know Cillian the best. So you tell me, what would make the High Prince of Fairwitch Isle take a numbing tonic?”
I swallowed thickly, not wanting to think about that question, about why he’d feel the need to kill all his emotions, to live without feeling. “Where would he even get something like this?”
“Not here. The ingredients needed grew in abundance in my bog and perhaps where you used to live on those cliffs. But here, in the mountains, is not the right environment for the heartstopper plant to grow.”
So that was why Cillian had left Fairwitch Isle, had likely been leaving Fairwitch. To get this.
I thought about how often I’d been asking him recently if he was okay, his bloodshot eyes, his rumpled appearance, the sheen of sweat on his skin. “I think he might be having ill effects from this tonic, but how much of it would he have to take for that to happen?” I asked, my gut churning.
Enid sent me a sharp look. “A lot. This is generally a safe medication given to those who have troubles with anxiety. It’s meant for short term usage, but patients can take it for years with no effects. It’s those who abuse it or take it for decades that become ill.”
Abuse it. I clutched my stomach, feeling sick. I could barely get my next words out. “What are the effects? Tell me, please.”
She tilted her head. “Do you need more tea?”
I shook my head. I needed answers.
She sighed and ticked off her fingers, long black nails glinting under the light shining through the windows. “Nausea, racing heart, elevated body temperature, mood swings, insomnia, delusions, and heightened emotions.”
“What?” I asked, not sure I’d heard right. “I thought the whole point of the tonic was to get rid of all emotions.”
Enid pursed her lips. “Yes, but if the tonic is not taken properly with the guidance of a qualified healer, then it can cause the body, the mind to start losing control.”
Oh godwitches.
“And sometimes the person can completely lose their mind. Or if too much medication is taken in one sitting, it can cause so much anxiety and stress on the body that there is a possibility of . . . death.”
My head snapped up. No. Cillian wouldn’t take that much. He wouldn’t . . . but everything Enid was describing was something I’d noticed in him lately. I shot to my feet.
“I have to find Cillian.”
“Do you want me to come with you and examine him?”
I shook my head. “Let me find him first. I’ll send Margaret if we need assistance.”
I hoped to the godwitches we didn’t need help. That I was wrong about all of this and Cillian was just fine.
Just then, Margaret appeared in the painting hanging on the wall behind us, out of breath and skin ashen. “Enid, you have to come quick. It’s Cillian. He’s in trouble.”