"Same thing," Irida declares with the brutal honesty of childhood, making Heidi laugh—a sound that goes straight through me despite everything.
We move through the festival grounds slowly, stopping at vendor stalls selling spiced drinks and honey cakes, watchingchildren chase conjured flame sprites through the crowd, listening to musicians whose instruments seem to channel fire itself into melody. Irida insists on showing Heidi everything, from the elaborate blessing ceremonies to the simple joy of roasted nuts dusted with cinnamon and magic.
But I can see the effort it's costing her. Heidi smiles and nods and asks appropriate questions, but there's a brittleness to her that speaks of someone holding herself together through sheer force of will. Every so often she sways slightly, catching herself with the careful control of someone who's learned to hide weakness as a survival skill.
When Irida gets distracted by a puppet show featuring tiny dragons that belch actual flames, I make my decision.
"Stay with her," I murmur to Varos, who's been trailing us at a discrete distance along with Rhegan. "I'll be back shortly."
The healer's tent sits on the outskirts of the festival grounds, marked by the traditional silver sigils that indicate Nashai presence. Inside, the air smells of herbs and something cleaner—the sharp scent of magic used for healing rather than destruction.
"Lord Vorath." The healer—a middle-aged xaphan woman with the characteristic silver-touched hair of her calling—bows respectfully. "How may I serve you?"
"I need a tea," I say without preamble. "For magic sickness. Someone who…is being drained by a spell."
Her expression sharpens with interest and concern. "Ah. That is tricky. Magic sickness can be dangerous if left untreated. How long has she been suffering symptoms?"
"Weeks. Getting worse." The admission tastes like failure.
"Whose magic is draining her?"
"Mine." The word feels like acid on my tongue.
Her eyes widen, but she just nods. "Then your magic woven into the treatment should counteract it. At least briefly." Shepauses, studying my face. "But it will cost you. Magic given this way doesn't return easily."
I think of Heidi's pale face, the way she can barely keep food down, how the frayed bond that pulses between us echoes with her pain and exhaustion. The choice isn't even a choice.
"Do it."
The process takes longer than I'd like. The healer brews a complex tea from ingredients I don't recognize, muttering incantations under her breath as steam rises in shapes that might be sigils or might be coincidence. When she gestures for me to place my hands over the cup, I don't hesitate.
Drawing magic from myself to infuse into the healing draught feels like bleeding. Not painful, exactly, but a steady drain that leaves me slightly hollow. I pour more power into it than I probably should—enough to make the healer's eyebrows rise in concern.
"That may be too much?—"
"It's fine." It has to be fine. Whatever it costs me to see Heidi whole again is a price I'm willing to pay.
When I return to find them, Heidi is sitting on a low stone wall while Irida chases flame sprites in the grass nearby. She looks up as I approach, and even through her exhaustion I can see her attempting to catalogue my expression.
"Where did you go?"
"Getting supplies," I lie smoothly, settling beside her and offering the cup. "Drink this."
She eyes the steaming liquid suspiciously. "What is it?"
"Tea. For your headache." The partial truth comes easily—I can feel her pain through the bond, the way it pounds behind her temples like trapped thunder.
"I didn't say I had a headache."
"You don't have to say it. I can feel it."
The reminder of our connection makes her jaw tighten, but she takes the cup anyway. "It smells like..." She pauses, inhaling the steam. "Like you."
Because my magic is woven through every molecule of it. "Just drink it, Heidi."
She does, making a face at what I assume is an unpleasant flavor. But within moments, I can see the change. I swear I can feel it through the bond that's trying to form despite our resistance. The grinding exhaustion that's been eating at her for days begins to ease, color returning to her cheeks as my magic shores up her flagging energy.
"Better?" I ask, though I already know the answer. She looks... not healthy, exactly, but no longer like she's about to collapse.
