“No.” I cut her off. “Definitely not.”
A massive bird lands near Daisy and caws.
She shrieks, “Is that one of them?”
“Yep.” I grin. I admire the cliffcrow as he takes flight, flapping his jet-black wings. The iridescent streak down his back glints in the sun. I’ve made it halfway, but the slot narrows the higher I go, and my muscles are starting to cramp. I shift and brace, catching my breath.
“You good up there?”
“I’m fine!”
I pretend every muscle in my body isn’t screaming. Starting again, I wriggle up to what looks like a perfect foothold. I reach up to seize it…
And my fingers close on a moist handful of cliffcrow shit.
“Aaaaaauggggggghhhhhhh,” I groan.
People are going todieif I don’t make this draught. People are going todie….
There’s not another foothold. I grimace and try not to think about the squish as I reach again for the same ledge. I haul myself over a ridge and at last come face-to-face with three baby cliffcrows.
Two are sleeping. The other opens slitted eyes and lets out a tinypeep, widening a red diamond of a mouth to be fed. I grin in wonder at their fuzzy little figures. There’s plenty of feathers in the nest, so I pick four or five. “Got it!”
Daisy cheers.
As we head back to the castle, she chats eagerly about the upcoming midsummer celebration. I stop listening when she starts speculating about the fruit tarts. There’s just too much else on my mind—notably, Finn and his job in the Frumentari.
All along, I’ve known he’s my enemy, in principle. He’s the descendant of Verdin the Vanquisher. His kin slaughtered thousands of mine. But I somehow managed to convince myself Finn is separate from these crimes, or at least the ideology. When he said he has different ideas from his father and doesn’t think magic makes someone evil—was that a lie? Was he justtoleratingVerdish oppression, or actively upholding it?
And why did it take me so long to ask?
My thoughts are interrupted when Daisy yelps. She’s ahead, with her back to me.
“Daisy?”
She stumbles backward, clutching her hand as the yelp vaults into a scream.
“DAISY?” Now I’m running. “What happened? What did you do?”
“I don’t know!I don’t know!” she howls. “I was grabbing onto a rock, and I got bitten. Or stung—”
“Let me look at it!”
She extends a trembling hand, revealing a swollen red lump on her pointer finger. I press my hand on it, sweeping with myTalent, but for some reason I can’t sense the wound. I hiss with frustration.
“Is it poisonous?” she asks, echoing my own thoughts.
I should know. Mother would know.“I haven’t seen a bite like this before,” I admit, trying to keep my voice calm as panic floods me. “We should get you back to the East Wing as fast as possible.” I rummage in my belt and tug out the grizzlefoot potion. “Take this for the pain.”
Daisy downs it, wincing at the taste.
It’s a long hike back, and it feels like hours later when we finally reach the castle gardens. By that point, she’s staggering. Her eyes are unfocused, and her hand has nearly doubled in size, turning a nasty shade of purplish red. There’s something wrong about her life energy, like rot spreading from a blemish. Halfway through the gardens, she collapses. Cursing, I scoop her up and start running.
I barrel through the hospital doors. “Help! Please! Somebody help us!”
A few nurses hurry over, eyes widening in alarm.
“Is that Daisy?”
