Caramyn said nothing, but took the canteen as best she could manage with her restraints around her wrists. Guzzling down the water, she had never tasted anything more refreshing in such a moment of physical desperation, even despite the leather aftertaste from the canteen skin.
“Won’t the captain have your head for this?” She whispered, looking up at Brenn’s looming figure.
“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt me.”
“You shouldn’t help me. Let me die of thirst here in the bottom of this stinking boat. I won’t allow myself to be sold as some man’s blushing bride—as someone’s property.”
“I know,” Brenn uttered. “But if you’ll trust me, I’ll do my best to help you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re magic. We are one and the same. I know why you’re wary. I know what it’s like to live your whole life hiding who you are.”
Caramyn studied his face, which in itself was a nod to his druid blood. Everything about him was rough like the earth, like the unkemptness of nature, but his eyes somehow maintained a softness that made him seem gentle. He reminded her of soft, velvet moss on a splintered, solid log.
He was the first person she’d ever known who could have claimed to know what it was like to face her struggles and really meant it. To be forced to do something he didn’t want to do in order to survive. And if he, too, had spent his whole life running and hiding, then maybe he could be more useful to her than she wanted to admit.
“The ice has slowed us down. We’ll arrive at the Silverean docks late tomorrow.” Brenn knelt down to take the canteen from her slowly, muttering his words discreetly. “I’ll not talk to you anymore till then, to keep up appearances and keep suspicions down. But I’ll try to think of something to help you survive when we get there.”
As he turned to go, she shifted, and noticed the crushed Blood Briar petals that laid scattered beneath her, remnants of the flower she’d put in her pocket.
An idea sparked.
“Brenn, wait!” She called hoarsely and he shuffled back over on tiptoes. “You’re a druid…do you have any elixir vials? And, and can you possibly bring me some water from the sea?”
Salt could sometimes strongly enhance the effects of some shrubs. If she could amplify the Blood Briar with seawater, it could possibly coagulate the blood of someone who drank it to a dangerous degree…to either put them in a deep sleep or clog their heart. It was a desperate idea, but it just might be her only hope of a defense where they were headed.
Brenn shot her a confused look. “I might have some. Why?”
She shifted back to reveal the red petals at her side. As a healer, he of all people should’ve understood. The corner of his mouth lifted every so slightly into a smile as he whispered. “Yes, I think I can find what you need.”
And then she didn’t see him again until she heard the captain above calling out land.
38
Blood Briar
Asterious
The prince paced the moonlit cobblestone of the courtyard, his eyes tired and his nerves shattered. They had been searching for two days with no sign of her, and he had delayed their journey to the Shadow Woods yet again. Riven and Wryan had given him hell for it, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t leave until he knew what happened to her.
The thought that she might have decided to betray him—to destroy him—plagued his mind. That she might run straight to Felhold and tell his sister everything. The thought of it tore him to pieces, and he wasn’t sure which outcome was more painful to think about—if she was on her way to betray him or if shewas in danger. He scratched at the prickle in his chest where the scars were. The flesh scars, obscured beneath the cursed magic ones. A scar for each time he’d been betrayed by those who were meant to care about him. What was one more if she betrayed him too?
“Your Highness.”
He hadn’t even noticed when Azell's frail frame appeared in the archway. She carried a small plate with a meager amount of meat and bread.
“I don’t mean to overstep, Prince Asterious, but I fear you’ll grow weak from hunger if you don’t eat something soon.”
The prince straightened himself, conscious of his fatigued appearance. “Thank you, Azell.” His voice was weary, and he was ashamed for how he’d let the mere thought of this girl burden him so much. “You’ve always known best, Azell, and as such, your concern is always welcome.”
He took the plate from her and forced down a few bites which his stomach did not welcome. Leaning against a cracking stone column, he stared across to the other side of the courtyard garden, lost in thought. Azell reached to take the plate from him, and he handed it back to her without hesitation.
“I don’t understand it.” He crossed his arms, his steel eyes shifting to a rosebush wrought with thorns growing wildly beside him. He leaned over to pluck the single remaining rosebud from its brambles. “I should be focused on everything but this. Sinevia, finding Mother. The kingdom and its people. But it seems I’ve been cursed yet again…and this time I don’t know how to break it.”
“Oh?” The maid’s reply was barely audible.
“It’s so stupid of me, Azell. It’s madness to say it out loud, but…thoughts of her consume me day and night. I crave her with every dawn and yearn for her under each moon. Like a fool I findmyself whispering her name in the silence, as though somehow it could call her back to me.”
