“But really, Cara. I’m not dying,” he said, as if he were picking up a thread of a conversation we’d dropped earlier.
“I know.”
I helped Tay into the cart, and Lidi climbed in next to him, her hands gripping the side rail so hard her knuckles whitened.
I got up front, took the reins, and flicked the horse to a slow start, trying to keep the movement steady. As the cart creaked down the lane, Lidi started to sing, soft and tuneless, the same lullaby our mother used to sing when she was too tired to remember the words.
Tay put his arm around her, and I tried not to look back, tried to keep my eyes on the road ahead, even as the sun rose and the sky got brighter and the whole world seemed determined to go on like nothing was ending.
The healer’s place used to be a temple. All that was left of the original was the bell and the tall curved windows. Once the Fae came, we hadn’t needed our old gods anymore.
Inside, the benches were crowded: a kid with a fever, an old woman coughing into a scarf, a man holding his left hand in a blood-soaked rag.
Lidi curled into my side. She’d stopped crying, but every few seconds she made a sound—almost a hiccup—like life was giving her little jolts of panic. I knew the feeling.
Tay sank into one of the benches, then stared at the ceiling. He shifted uncomfortably. “Should have let me die at home in comfort,” he muttered, then, when he saw me glare, “I’m joking. Can’t I joke?”
“You’re not funny,” I said.
“He is,” Lidi defended him loyally, and Tay winked.
“You’re the favorite,” I said to both of them, really. They adored each other, and I adored them. They loved me, too, but I was prickly and mean and single-minded in a way that neither of my sunshine siblings were.
If we could just get through this, if Tay was all right, I would take Lidi to the Fae myself. I’d be by her side while they hollowed out her magic, and if she regretted it later, she could blame me, as I blamed my parents. But Tay needed to live. I hadn’t expected such a bad turn so fast.
When we were called, I hauled Tay up. Lidi tried to help, but mostly she got underfoot. They already knew us, and I worried when the healer had us limp past the examination rooms into the infirmary in the back. It smelled clean and soapy, and she gestured to us to help Tay to one of the beds in the row.
The healer, Ana, looked us over with a flick of her eyes as Tay sat heavily on the side of the bed.
“It’s the same thing?” she asked, not unkind but already tired.
“Yes.”
She sighed. Then she uncorked a bottle, poured a measure into a tin cup, and handed it to Tay. “This is to make you sleep. To get some good rest. You’ll stay here where we can keep an eye on you.”
Tay’s hands shook as he raised the mug to his lips and drank. My stomach dropped as if I were falling as I reached out to steady it. He lowered the mug and gave me a withering look, or rather, a fraction of one—as if he were too weak to even be annoyed by me fully.
Ana inclined her head toward the hall. I followed her out, where she hesitated.
“Just be honest,” I said, my voice rough. “Say it plainly.”
She leaned in, voice low so they couldn’t hear. “He’s got weeks, if that, Cara. You need magic. You need to take him to the Fae, and you need to do it while he can survive the trip. It might already be too late. He can’t sit a horse?—”
“I know.” My voice was raw, and she didn’t meet my eyes.
“You know I can’t do much. I can make him comfortable. Maybe alittle better, for a while. But—” She didn’t finish. I felt Lidi before I saw her, and knew why Ana had stopped before Lidi slipped her hand into mine.
She must’ve sensed I needed her even more than Tay.
“We’ll get him to the Fae,” I promised. “Just keep him comfortable, and I’ll make a plan.”
Thirteen
We sat with Tay until he fell into a heavy, exhausted sleep.
When I was sure he wouldn’t wake up soon looking for us, I stood. “Let’s go to the magic shop.”
Lidi’s face lit up, and she took my hand as the two of us made our way out of the ward.
