I had been with others before, shared my bed with them, yet none had ever looked at me this way. Caz’s expression wasn’t one of pride or conquest, but one of admiration and wonder.
But there was no use fighting the syrup of poppy any longer. It was claiming Caz completely now. His head bobbed with exhaustion, and he nearly tipped backward. I caught him, steadying him with both hands before gently easing him onto the cot. His head found the straw pillow, and just as I began to pull away, he kissed one cheek, then the other, offering me a slow, lazy smile.
Soon, his eyes closed, his breathing evened, and I thought he was nearly asleep, until a faint crease formed between his brows.
“Your cheeks…” he mumbled, voice distant. “They taste of something, Odessa. They taste of salt… and iron.”
In confusion, I pulled away, my hand rising to my cheek. I felt flakes crusted on my skin. I rubbed them away, watching as they fell off in tiny fragments. I couldn’t place whatthey were.
Soon, an exhaustion settled over me so heavy I could barely keep my eyes open. A dull, pulsing ache throbbed from deep within. My breathing grew thin, and I pushed myself upright, staggering toward the door.
I needed air. I needed space. I needed to clear my head.
Just as I stepped out of the apothecary, a sharp jolt of pain struck me. My legs collapsed and I was sent crashing to the ground.
22
The slopin front of me was a poor excuse for porridge. I stirred it halfheartedly, chin propped on my fist, elbow resting on the table. There wasn’t much else in the apothecary’s kitchen that looked any better. And I wasn’t about to gamble with Mag’s shelves. If I grabbed the wrong jar or bag, and who knows what kind of trouble Caz and I would end up in. The wrong bite could land us both back in that infirmary.
My spoon hadn’t moved since the first taste, but Caz ate steadily, down to the last lumpy drop.
“You didn’t have to eat that, you know,” I said, my voice filled with guilt.
“Like you said, I’m on the mend,” he replied with a bright grin. “I need my strength back. And my appetite’s returned, especially after barely eating yesterday.”
We sat in silence for a while, neither of us bringing up the night before. Still, I noticed the change in him, how his gaze would drift to me when he thought I wasn’t looking. He was quieter than usual. Watching.
“I hope Griffin’s alright,” I said at last, frowning. “I haven’t left him alone at the inn this long before. If I had to guess, the place has probably gone up in flames.”
Now it was Caz who looked sheepish. “I’m sure the inn’s fine. It stood long before you came along, didn’t it? It probably has its own way of running.”
“I suppose that’s true,” I admitted.
Suddenly, the door to the half-kitchen, half-workspace flew open.
“Here, boy,” Mag barked, appearing as if she’d stepped out of thin air. The old crone thrust a metal tin at Caz, who caught it square against his chest.
“Treat that palm twice a day, twelve chimes apart,” she instructed. “Miss a dose, and you’ll have more than just a rash to worry about.”
“Thank you, Mag,” Caz said sincerely, cradling the tin in his hands. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
“Enough.” Mag waved him off, brushing aside his gratitude. “The salve is done. A fresh batch of syrup of poppy’s ready as well. My generosity is sapped.” She shooed us out with a flick of her hands, making it clear the conversation was over.
Caz scrambled to his feet, quick to obey, falling into the familiar pattern of fear that Mag always seemed to provoke. I rose as well, gathering the breakfast bowls and tidying the space. He was already several steps ahead when Mag’s voice stopped me cold.
“Whispers have reached my ears, little raven,” she murmured. “Be wary. Time is slipping, and it won’t be long now.”
I froze, a twitch tightening my jaw.
Meeting her eyes, I asked, “Are you going to explain what that means, or am I expected to solve this riddle too?”
“Hush now. Nothing more can be done. Run or rise, little raven.”
Mag cast me one last look, then turned to follow after Caz. I lingered a moment longer, letting her words settle. The familiar darkness stirred at the edge of my thoughts, but only as a flicker. I let itpass.
By the time I caught up with them, Caz was already at the side of the shop, talking animatedly with Mag, his face lit with excitement. The moment he saw me turn the corner, he practically shouted, “Odessa! You’re not going to believe this!”
Bellona was the first thing I saw, strong, healthy, and beautiful. Caz stood beside her, stroking her face gently from browband to muzzle. The moment she spotted me, she let out a joyful whinny and trotted over, eager and bright. I smiled, reaching to pat her, and she nuzzled into my shoulder with a soft, contented huff.
