“That’s… I don’t even know what to say about that.” He bowed his head again, the quill scratching along his skin with intensity. “And that’s what the tincture was for? To stop that from happening?”
“Yes. I’ve taken it since my first cycle.”
Tap settled back against the cushions, arranging himself in a way that he could work a bit easier and still look at me. “Something happened in the gardens, you said?”
I drank the rest of my tea and returned the cup to the tray, even the memory causing my heart to beat faster. “I was with some other Nephilim, and we were sneaking around where we weren’t allowed to be. I wanted to see some of the creatures.” I swallowed. “Instead, we found a walled garden.” Tap’s head raised for a moment, but he seemed to understand that his work with the quill was keeping us both focused. “We just thought it was something restricted, something we weren’t allowed to enjoy because we were Nephilim and not full angels. Admittedly, we all had chips on our shoulders about being treated differently, so it felt like we’d won something by getting to just walk right in. We should have been more cautious.” A tickle in my irritated throat sent me into a coughing fit. Tap stopped his design and I reached for more tea before he could, sipping until I had eased the sensation and continued in barely more than a whisper. “The stone walls were three times as tall as me, with vines growing all over them. The flowers were blooming, everything looked so healthy, so beautiful. I was enjoying looking around when I suddenly got very hot and felt a little out of sorts. I sat down to rest, not realizing that nobody else was as far into the garden as I was. There were four men and two other women with me. I could see the two other women being carried out, so I can only assume it was because they were feeling the same way I was. But they’d all been closer to the door. They’d heard the patrol coming.” I exhaled, remnants of the fear from the moment I realized they had all gone increasing my pulse.
“Theyallleft you there?Alone?” he spat, clearly furious.
“I don’t think it was intentional. And the door had been wide open when we went in, so there was no way for them to know that it would lock behind them as they ran out, or that there was no latch or even a handle on the inside. They were just scared of getting in trouble. Probably worried about the other women, since they’d collapsed the same as me.”
Tap stopped working and stared at me, his mouth halfway open in horror. “You are far too generous, Feather.”
“Maybe.”
He swallowed, nostrils flared as he breathed. “How long?”
“Four days.” The quill clattered to the floor. My throat tightened, remembering only flashes of what even then was like one long fever dream. “The whole of my first estrus cycle. My father found me after. I don’t remember that part though. Or much of the next couple of weeks.”
Tap scrunched his eyes closed. “Saints.”
I could see the intricately designed beds and walkways lined with plants clearly in my mind, the deceptively beautiful blossoms, the common-looking greenery. “I ate what I thought looked familiar. But there were no truly safe plants in there.”
Tap rumbled a noise low in his chest. “A poison garden.”
“Yes. Between hallucinations, my heart beating either too fast or too slow, and bouts of getting sick, I had to contend with cramping and a… aneedI didn’t understand and couldn’t soothe. At that point, nobody knew. Nobody could have explained what to expect when such a thing happened. And I kept choosing what I thought were edible greens or berries only to end up more unwell. I left a different person than I entered.”
“Phin.” Sympathy infused his tone, and he reached for my hand. I let him take it, appreciating the warmth of his skin and the way he pressed my palm to his cheek.
“I’m doing much better now, but many of my memories from before and shortly after that are fragmented or missing. I don’tknow how much to trust the ones I do have, but when they feel right, I do my best.” He flinched, my pointed wording landing as I hoped.
“That had to be… indescribable.”
“It was.” I took a deep breath and reached for my tea, my throat raw and raspy from having spoken so much. “If not for Ramsey, I’m not sure I would have recovered.”
“Were you not taken to the healers?”
I shrugged. “I was. I’ve never seen my father so angry and scared, I do remember that much. But there was only so much they could do.”
“Bullshit.” He spat the word with such force I startled. “I’m sorry.” He squeezed my hand and then let go of it, pushing his fingers through his hair as his eyes flickered between red and silver. “They had the whole of the angelic council at their disposal. Divine healers. They could have undone any injury a plant toxin had given you. Physically, mentally, it wouldn’t have mattered. They could have helped. Especially soon after it happened.”
His words left me feeling vindicated. After I’d recovered and had a chance to reflect, I’d thought the same thing. So had my parents—the lack of expedient help for me was one of the last straws as far as his affinity for the council and Heaven in general for my father.
“My mother did her best, and my father was still able to get me some medicines and things from Heaven. My original tincture, too. Mostly, I’m fine.”
“And the others? The Nephilim that left you behind?”
I shrugged. “I never saw any of them again. I was recovering, and then when I went back to Heaven, it was always to go straight to the archives with my father.” Tap’s mouth hung open, his rage palpable.
“I think my freezing episodes are probably related to what happened somehow, though that doesn’t explain why the bells triggered them so much, or why they didn’t start until I was living at the church.” I’d thought about Hailon’s offer to try to repair my heart quite a lot since our visit in the glade. I had hesitated out of fear that nothing would change, even if she could heal some of the damage. For the same reason, I’d never tried any of Greta’s elixirs. I was finally mostly functional, even with those brief moments of being frozen inside my own body. But knowing now that the tincture was contributing, I was seriously reconsidering.
“Even I reacted to the blood in the metal. You were reacting both as an angel and as a demon, so it was twice as bad,” Tap said, sympathy heavy on his quiet voice.
“Perhaps you’re right. But the tincture isn’t—wasn’t—really working anymore.”
“Phin, your tincture was being made weaker.”
“What?”
