She assists in the process and chuckles. “I mean, sure, but I can’t promise I’ll be at my best performance right now.”
Glaring up at her, I say, “That’s not what I’m trying to do right now.”
She smirks and lifts her arms, letting me slide her nightgown off of her. “You’re always trying.”
The sight of her pebbled nipples tempt me, drawing me in for a taste, but the roughness in her voice is enough to push any emotion other than protectiveness aside.
Grabbing the shirt, I hold it out and wait for her to lift her arms.
She rolls her eyes, but it’s undermined by the shiver that runs through her.
“You’re cold,” I bite out.
With an exasperated breath, she pushes herself backward and slides under the covers. “Your body heat and a cup of tea will do more for me than clothes would.”
With a stiff nod, I prepare her a cup, and then strip out of my clothes. Crawling toward her, I wrap my body around her small frame, careful not to spill the hot liquid.
“Better?” I murmur against her ear.
She takes a sip. “Yes, much better.”
We sit like that for a few minutes and watch the fire Rowyn lit crackle across the room.
“Have you learned anything new? About why Nestor left?” The question is the last thing I expected to hear right now.
“Not much. I think he went to gather everoot,” I tell her with a shrug.
Her head tilts back and she blinks up at me a few times. “Everoot?”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “Remember in Petra’s journal, she mentioned that Cassia Foxglove died from decay fever.” I explain the same reasoning I told Gale a couple days ago, and how it connects back toThe Last Hero.
She pushes to a sitting position. She’s processing the thought, putting it all together. “I mean… Yeah.Yeah, that makes sense.”
“I’ve been trying to find any evidence to back it up,” I admit. “There’s nothing. It feels like a reach but…”
She bites her lip. “It feels like the closest we’ve gotten to discovering the truth.”
I nod and wrap a hand around the nape of her neck. “It might not change our fate, but at least we could die knowing the truth.”
In a sober voice she adds, “Their mom and grandmother died from decay fever.”
“Whose?” I ask, not understanding where her mind went.
With wide, sad eyes, she says, “Clover and Clementine’s. I think it runs in their family.”
“Are you sure? We need to get the herb then,” I insist. “I can go see Calista before we make any further decisions.”
She smiles softly at me, one full of affection and admiration. “You would do that for Clover?”
“Of course I would,” I say. “She’s a part of this coven, and I want to make sure that whatever we decide protects them, not causes more pain.”
“Me too,” she says. “But we have a small store of everoot. There’s enough for two doses.”
“Good,” I say. “That’s good.”
She tilts her head before lying back down, wrapping an arm around me. “Do you know how to attain everoot?”
“Uh, yeah,” I say, confused by her interest. “I mean, few witches know what the ‘price’ is. I’ve read tales about Calista though. Sybil got sick when we were kids, and my parents paid the local healer for a dose.”
