Brock knocks again. “My lord, the witch is awake and asking for Emma.”
Emma freezes, her flushed face going pale. “Grimelda.”
37
Emma
My steps feel heavier the closer I get to the infirmary.
“You can do this.” Solano is beside me, his hand on my lower back.
I can’t answer. I’m afraid Grimelda will hear me. Foolish, since I’m going to see her. To talk to her. To tell her what happened to her mother.
Lex. I stop and lean against the warm stone wall for a moment.
Solano just stands at my side, his presence giving me the strength to go on.
When I enter the infirmary, Caltinius is taking notes as Lunarie explains some mix of alchemy and magic. I assume it’s what cured Grimelda. Important knowledge to have, for sure. Maybe it’s not the best idea to send Lunarie away, but her sister is a risk we can’t take, not when Gwen wants my destruction more than anything else in all of Arin.
“Darkindle.” Grimelda sits up in her bed and sips a hot drink, then makes a face. “Bitter.” She’s pale and small, and still seems drained, but her eyes are bright.
“Hi.” It sounds strangled.
She seems unbothered, though, and pats the cot beside her. “Sit.”
“I should stand.” I can’t figure out what to do with my hands, so I settle for lacing my fingers together.
“Come.” She pats the cot again.
I sigh, but I can’t deny her. Not after what I’ve done. So I sit.
“All the old tomes have proved useless, but some from the other realms are interesting. I’ve found a few things about the seekers that could help, but I don’t know if ...” Tritus walks in through the door, his nose in a book, then sees Solano and me and backs out again.
His mate Caltinius shakes his head with a wry smile on his face.
“Tritus.” Solano follows him out the door to have a word, but he’s also holding tight to me through the bond.
Grimelda sips her bitter tea.
Lunarie and Caltinius continue their work in muted tones as Sophina walks in, her arms filled with jars and a few bars of precious metals.
“I got all the—”
“Shh!” Caltinius scolds her, and her antennae flatten as she looks over at Grimelda and me. “Oh. Oh, so it’s that time, is it?” She scurries toward the potions wall and starts setting down her goods.
Moments tick by.
Grimelda keeps sipping her tea.
The expectation seems to grow heavier with each passing moment.
I think of several different ways to start.
None of them seem right.
How can any of them be right? Her mother is dead. By the grace of the Ancestors, mine lives. She scolded me only moments ago for daring to wear pants instead of a dress. Lucidia ganged up with her, both of them pelting me with glares as I pulled a belt around my waist.
“You don’t have to tell me, you know,” Grimelda says slowly.
