He nodded, soaking in what she admitted. “They yearn to grow, our brilliances. Feed it more than it was accustomed to, even once, and it will stretch. I would proceed cautiously if I were you.”
With that, he turned around, and when he continued down the path, this time, she did not follow.
Chapter twenty-one
Corvinfoundhersittingon the stone walk, her back leaned against the overgrown bench. She couldn’t risk sitting on it.
“There you are,” he said, and after several moments without a reply, he settled beside her.
Lux didn’t move. Her chin rested on her bent knees, her gaze upon the brambles. Her eyes were focused solely on the ground beneath. On a hand—it’s pointed nails grey and cracked—raking in the dirt over and over. A slightly bent wrist was attached to it. The rest disappeared into the undergrowth.
“Do you see it?” she asked.
“See what?”
“The hand.”
She waited for him to speak. Waited to see if the apparition would reveal more of itself. Waited for the nightmare’s voice to return.
“No.”
“But I do. It’s the third time. Seeing something that isn’t really there. But I’ve felt it before then. In my head. I’ve felt it growing bolder since Verity.”
Corvin’s palm cupped her far shoulder, his arm draping heavily along her back. “It’ll be all right, Lux.”
Her attention flicked to his touch, and when she looked again at the brambles, the corpse-like hand retracted until it was gone. “It doesn’t feel like it.”
“I told you I’d take you to see our healer. And I’m here to make good on that promise.” His gloved fingers tightened on her shoulder before dropping away. He stood and stretched out his hand. “Come with me. He’s waiting.”
It felt like she’d only blinked, and she stood again before Alixsander’s portrait. By the next they were down a third-floor corridor and standing at one of its black doors. Corvin knocked.
The door swung inward on Lux’s next breath. A person stood behind it. Short and portly, robed and hooded.
“You’re late,” he said.
“My apologies,” said Corvin.
“It was my fault,” said Lux.
Lord Artemis, the healer, sniffed from beneath his hood and marched into the room.
Corvin indicated for her to go in ahead and she did, her eyes on the table and shelves and everything in between. Her heart clenched. It looked so much like her workroom—aside from the clearly nicer finishes—her grief rebounded. She didnotmiss Ghadra. But she missed that room a startling amount.
Dried herbs hung from strings slung along one wall while bottles and jars and vials made up another. Drawing farther into the room, Lux stared longest at the counter, where all manner of tortuous looking instruments were set. Her heart released as her jaw clenched instead. Now this was less reminiscent of her workroom and more the mayor’s.
She stared hardest at the line of needles.
Her nerves jolted when the door snicked closed behind them.
“Now, Ms. Thorn. Lord Corvin tells me you’re experiencing some unwanted symptoms related to your fascinating gift of necromancy. Do tell me more.”
Lux eyed the healer warily. He skirted about the room until he found a stool beside his questionable counter whereupon he sat and propped his feet on the rung. Waiting.
She glanced at Corvin, who nodded his support.Go on,that gesture said.
Lux drew a long breath. “I performed a revival two days ago. I fainted immediately following. That’s never happened, not once. Afterward—”
“How long have you been practicing?”
