What absurdity. Everyone knows the dead ascend to the Eternal Lands—those who are worthy, at least.
“What will happen to me, as the venom spreads?” What a question to ask, and so matter-of-factly. But I’d prefer to shed the veil of this unknown.
Zephyrus squeezes the bridge of his nose. “It will not be pretty.” His response is subdued, tight with reluctance. “Your fever will continue to climb. You will crave water no matter how much you drink. Your flesh will blacken with decay.”
Harper stumbles backward in horror. “By the Father.” She retreats among the ferns, arms wrapped around her torso.
My attention returns to Zephyrus. “Go on.”
“Brielle—”
“Do not spare me, Bringer of Spring.” My eyes sting, but I refuse to let the tears fall.
The Text teaches us not to fear death, yet I am afraid of departing this good earth having failed the task I’ve been given. I’m too young, too untried. I question what lies beyond this day, not in fear, but in tentative curiosity, even wonder. My hands shake as I straighten. No. I will not shrink in light of this reality. I will face this upright as I should have faced all my trials, days, weeks, months ago.
Zephyrus hangs his head. His hands spear through those honey-brown curls. “The venom will reach your organs last. It will be… very painful. They say a quick death is preferred.” He swallows, lifts his eyes. “Do you taste metal at all?”
I nod.
“Then the final stages have already begun to take effect.”
Is this where I will die? In the depths of Carterhaugh, a place crawling with unspeakable horrors, not even a candle to bring me comfort?
“I wish you would have said something,” murmurs the West Wind with far more compassion than expected. “This could have been prevented, had your wound been treated within the first forty-eight hours.”
How was I to know? It makes me twice the fool, I suppose.
“You’re sure there’s nothing we can do?” I hate how my voice shakes. “No cure? Nothing at all?”
His expression tightens in what I believe to be conflict, or pain. Perhaps my imminent demise upsets him. I did not think Zephyrus cared for me. Indeed, I believed he cared for no one. “I wish there was something I could do for you. Because the darkwalkers hail from another realm, the fair folk lack the proper ingredients required to nullify the beasts’ venom. You ask whether there is a cure. Unfortunately,” Zephyrus says, “there is not.”
Hearing it aloud, without ploy or trickery, guts me. I swipe at my eyes, yet one tear manages to escape, sliding down my feverish cheek. Zephyrus frowns. He leans forward, reaching toward my face. The pad of his thumb brushes my cheek, catching the droplet. I meet his gaze. Together, in this moment, we are still.
Eventually, he leans back, though the frown remains. “Is there someone you’d like me to inform afterward?” he wonders. “Family?”
“No.” I stare at the ground. “I’m an only child. I never met my father. As for my mother…” I’ve little to say about my mother. Dead or alive, I know not.
I shake my head. “There is no one. The abbess has acted as my mentor for the last decade. She will want to know of my passing.” I look to Harper. Once I’m gone, she can claim Meirlach for herself.
Zephyrus follows my gaze, then nods. “I will make sure your abbess learns of this. You have my word.”
It is the smallest reassurance. “Thank you.” I lick my painfully dry lips, the cracks stinging where the skin has peeled free. “Will you continue onward without me?”
He lowers himself onto the ground beside me, one leg extended outward, the other pulled to his chest, an arm wrapped around his shin. “I will not leave you.”
Relief courses through me, though I try to hide it. That he has considered my comfort is more than I expected from him.
“Plus, I’m terrified of being alone in Harper’s presence,” he tacks on.
Against all odds, my mouth curves, and I snort. Harper, a vague shape in the fringe of my vision, walks away, head bent while Zephyrus’ chuckle softens into a smile.
“Her presence does not appear to have bothered you until now,” I point out, more harshly than I intend.
He shrugs. “Any conversation is better than no conversation.”
His tone gives me pause. “What are you implying?”
“If you chose to speak with me, maybe I wouldn’t feel the need to talk to Harper.”
