I shudder, remembering the last time I was here. There was but one table then and Aspen was its occupant. It’s hard to believe that was less than two weeks ago. Back then I wouldn’t have cared if Aspen died.
I shake the morbid thought from my mind and join Gildmar, a tiny fae with bark-like skin and leafy hair, at the far end of the room. Her small hands fly over the table as she lays out her tools—shards of shell, sharp bone, pointed sticks, swaths of spider silk, bowls of water, herbs, and wine. I’m grateful I don’t have to demand wine this time.
“Are these the only survivors?” I ask Gildmar.
She nods. “The last explosion went off while they were still prepping the keg inside the cave. These three were standing nearby. All inside the cave and near its opening didn’t make it.”
I swallow hard, wondering if she’s been informed of the true cause for the early explosion. “What can I do to help?”
“First, ease their pain.” She hands me a vial. I don’t need to ask to know it contains extract of honey pyrus, a psychoactive fae fruit. Its extract works like laudanum, easing pain and allowing a patient’s mind and body to slip into euphoric stillness.
I move from one injured fae to the other, administering a dropperful to each while Gildmar cleans one of the male fae’s wounds with an herb-infused liquid. Once all three patients have fallen beneath the honey pyrus’ spell, I take one of the bowls of wine and approach the unconscious fae female. I cleanse my hands with the wine and inspect her wounds. The fae’s skin is pocked with bloody gouges from shards of coral spearing her flesh where the armor hadn’t covered. I peel back the linen tunic from her torso, finding severe bruising blooming over her chest, likely crushed by her breastplate. I pour the wine over her wounds. “Are they in mortal danger?”
Gildmar shakes her head, though her face remains grave. “So long as we can staunch any bleeding and keep them calm, their bodies should heal on their own. There was no ash or iron involved, so their natural abilities will remain strong. However, if they lose too much blood, their bodies won’t be able to keep up with healing.”
I’m relieved to hear their prognosis is good, although it’s hard to believe any creature could recover after being so close to an explosion. The concussive force alone would be enough to kill a human. “What were the explosives made from? Gunpowder?”
“Marsh gas, most likely,” she says, her voice like the creak of an old branch. “Most often found in the marshes where Fire and Wind courts meet. A beastly practice, if you ask me. We shouldn’t be bottling up nature the way humans do, using the elements for harm. My kind didn’t do that before your people came to the Fair Isle.”
Her tone is more resigned than accusatory, but my stomach sinks with guilt just the same. “How long will it take for them to recover?”
“Their wounds are grave, but it won’t be like it was with the king.”
Again, the memory floods my mind, of Aspen near death, veins of black trailing across his skin to show how deep the iron had poisoned his blood. I had been concerned about his recovery, but only because he was my patient; I’d been nowhere near as distraught as I’d be if something like that were to happen now. Not after how close we’ve become.
My heart squeezes. We were growing closer even still before that letter arrived. I finally got him to express his anger over me using his name against him. We were making amends. I was so close to telling him that I...
I shake the memories from my head. Thoughts of Aspen and the mysterious contents of the letter will have to wait. For now, I have work to do.
2
It’s midday by the time I finish helping Gildmar, my body heavy with exhaustion as I make my way from the east wing, Aspen’s guard trailing behind me. Being this tired isn’t a bad feeling, considering it’s the result of a job well done. The three patients’ wounds have been cleaned, stitched, and bandaged, and their bodies have been moved to a more comfortable room with actual beds where they can recover. All were dozing peacefully when I left them to rest in the recovery room, but before that I sat with each, resting my hands over their torsos for several minutes at a time.
Luckily, my guard remained outside the door during my visit. If anyone would have seen what I was doing, my cheeks would have blazed with embarrassment, no matter how benign my actions would have appeared to onlookers. For inside me burned the hope that my hands were doing more than just providing comfort. I’m still not positive I had anything to do with healing Lorelei’s wounded leg or in aiding Aspen’s sudden recovery from iron poisoning. I don’t know if it was by some power of my own that helped me perform Aspen’s surgery without the tools I’m used to.
If I’d considered such a notion two months ago, I would have laughed, deeming myself delirious. But now, after everything I’ve seen and done and experienced...
I believe in possibilities. Especially if they allow me to help others.
As we near the end of the east wing hall, a second guard awaits. She looks hesitant as she approaches us. My heart leaps into my throat as I begin to fear the worst. “Has Aspen returned?”
“No, he’s involved in a skirmish with Cobalt’s fae not too far from here,” she says, “which is why I’m coming to you. Queen Melusine is on the beach, surrounded by our guards. She’s demanding to speak with you.”
“What does she want to speak with me about?”
“She wouldn’t say. Only that she’d make a binding promise not to harm you and called upon the protection ofa peaceful exchange of words. This means violence would be forbidden during your talk. If she were to attack you, each attack could be met blow for blow.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “What did you tell her?”
“Nothing. It is up to you whether to hold an audience with her. With King Aspen absent, you’re in charge.”
My head rushes from the weight of her words.I’m in charge.
The guard Aspen left to watch me clears his throat and faces me. “King Aspen wouldn’t want you to meet with her without him present. He wouldn’t deem it safe.”
“Then you better see that no harm comes to me.” I turn to face the fae female. “Take me to Queen Melusine. I want to know what she’s up to.”
It might not be the smartest move, but Melusine could know something about today’s attack. She may have information about Cobalt, about Amelie, about the letter and the treaty—no, I’m getting ahead of myself. If she knows anything at all, she’ll hide it behind a web of deception and weave it to her advantage. I should harbor no false hopes regarding her whatsoever.
