“Has he cursed her?” Charen asks as he rides beside me.
“He doesn’t have that power.”
“He may.” Tristano shrugs. “This sleep is unnatural.”
I’m taking her to the Shard, straight to Grimelda. I hope to the Ancestors that the witch has recovered and is still in residence. Her power plus the knowledge from my changeling physician may be the key to waking her from whatever spell she’s under.
“It’s not a spell.” Charen peers at her. “It’s blood magic. Has to be.” He sends a tendril of black smoke out and coils it around her head like a crown. Closing his eyes, he rides silently for long moments before pulling back. “She’s closed off. Stone walls around her, as if she’s trapped. It’s her blood. Eraldon’s blood. He still has power over her.”
“It will fade. It has to. She just needs more of my blood.” I have to wash him away, to erase his taint from her.
“Maybe.” Charen backs off, the unsure tone of his voice like a jab to my heart.
“You’ll be all right, my love.” I send my thoughts down the bond.
Only silence answers.
28
Solano
Brock meets us as we enter the courtyard, our horses weary and my concern growing with every one of Emma’s slow heartbeats.
“My lord.” He bows and has the good grace to wait until I get Emma safely inside the Shard before delivering whatever grim news is creasing his brow.
“I need Grimelda. Has she come around?”
He matches my pace as I carry Emma through the bright halls. “She hasn’t.”
My stomach drops, my mouth going dry. I need Grimelda. She was my only real hope.
Nobles scatter and several gasp as I pass. I don’t care. All I care about is saving Emma and my realm.
“Is it her?” Lucidia rushes to me, her hands going to Emma’s face. “It is. She’s returned.” Tears spring to her eyes. “What’s happened?” Her face falls as she sees Emma won’t wake.
“Come.” I pick up my pace again, Lucidia at one elbow and Brock at the other.
“I need Caltinius.” I charge down the halls, making my way to the medical lab where my changeling doctor does his work.
“He’s here.” Brock pushes some gawking nobles from our path. “But, my lord, we need to talk. The realm is on a knife’s edge. Since you’ve been gone, whispers of rebellion have grown louder, and I can’t—”
“Rebellion?” I burst through the infirmary door and find a stunned Caltinius along with my alchemist Sophina.
“Heal her.” I lay Emma gently on a cot near the wall filled with various potions and ichors.
“It’s … That’s …” Caltinius drops to a knee beside me, his fingers going to Emma’s wrists. “Emma. She’s alive. Barely. But she’s a seeker. How?”
“Wings. Claws.” Lucidia puts her palms to her cheeks. “Ancestors save us.”
I pull Emma onto her side so her wings aren’t crushed beneath her. “She has three bloodlines, one from the crescent moon.”
Caltinius gives me a perplexed look then turns to her and pulls up her eyelids, examining her pupils.
“When Eraldon turned her, the moon’s bloodline maintained its hold. So she’s part seeker, not fully. The moon’s share of her blood didn’t let her turn all the way.”
He lifts her upper lip and finds her fangs, then leans over and inspects the black wings at her back.
My impatience is magnified tenfold. She’s been through too much. I need her to see the sun, to see that she is worthy of saving. “She sleeps. Wake her,” I growl.
