It felt as if all my senses were heightened—my hearing picking up his unnatural breathing as my eyes scanned the meadow and my nose hunted for the tell-tale scent of yarrow.
Its flowers had a distinctive soapy, sweet smell, and the leaves were a bit spicy, their aroma somewhat like sage.
There—a hint of white on the edge of the forest where Pharis had been brutalizing the smaller trees.
I ran over to it, my heart soaring to have discovered it so quickly, but then it plummeted again when I realized what I’d seen was not yarrow blooms but poison hemlock, a similar looking plant.
“I think I found it,” Tindra screamed from the other side of the meadow near the narrow mountain stream.
“Found it,” Turi’s little echo came.
Gods, I hoped so. Throwing a hurried glance over at Pharis as I ran to them, I saw him doubled up in pain, gasping for air.
He’s dying. Please please please don’t let him die.
Reaching the girls, I looked from their eager faces to the plant they pointed to.
It was yarrow. The white cluster of flowerheads was underpinned by leaves with a feathery fern-like appearance.
“Bless you,” I said to them both. “This is it. Help me gather some—quickly now.”
Each of us grabbed handfuls of the plants and ran back to Pharis. He was on his back again, no longer writhing, but frightfully still. His face had gone from purple to white, and his skin was drenched in perspiration.
“Pharis. Pharis, can you hear me? What do I do with it?”
He didn’t answer. I wasn’t even sure he could hear me anymore.
The poisonous fireweed had acted so quickly upon him. No wonder Sorcha had made it the main ingredient in her vile concoction.
We had found the yarrow, but I had no idea how to administer it in this case. I had to try something though.
Rolling the petals between my hands to bruise them, I stopped when I felt wetness and pressed some of the crushed flowers to Pharis’ lips. Then I pushed some inside them, but his teeth were clenched, his jaw locked.
That couldn’t be good.
“Is he going to die?” Turi asked. She was crying. So was Tindra.
“No. absolutely not,” I told them, and I meant it.
I wouldn’t allow it.
“Girls, pluck the leaves and press them to his skin,” I ordered, and my sisters went to work, rubbing the yarrow leaves furiously between their little hands then sticking them to his bare arms.
“Pharis,” I said rather loudly, hoping he could hear me. “Open your mouth.”
He made a noise like a low moan and moved his head slightly. I felt almost faint with relief at the evidence he could still hear me.
As the little girls decorated his face and hands with the leaves, I opened Pharis’ shirt and rubbed the pulverized blooms on his chest.
Then I tried again to get him to take some yarrow internally.
“Open your mouth,” I shouted. “You have to take this. You’ll die if you don’t.”
I sounded as desperate as I felt, but Pharis did not unclench his jaw.
Deciding to take a different tack, I put my hand on his jaw and massaged the tight muscles, leaning close to his ear and speaking softly.
“Pharis… it’s Raewyn. Open your mouth for me,” I coaxed. “Open up and let me in. I would never hurt you.”
