“Semantics.” Wynter waved a hand, but paused mid-motion to lean closer to the page she was reading. “Wait—I have something.” She turned to Jonas. “Is there an entry in there on Wraith Tears?”
“I’m only up to the Ns,” he said. “Hang on, I’ll skip ahead.” Pages rustled, then slowed. “There’s nothing that translates to that exact name, but there’s a mention ofWeepusWraithos—Weeping Wraith—and the etymology is nearly identical.” He squinted as he read the entry aloud: “ ‘Weeping Wraith is a poison derived using a combination of wraith blood and dragon tears. Its liquid form is sufficient to bring a swift death, but greater suffering can be achieved by imbuing it into objects, particularly weapons, as the effects become longer-lasting and more torturous. Symptoms include green flesh around the wound, black bile, fever, chills…’ ” He rattled off the list, with Reeve nodding weakly to each mention.
“That’s it,” Sage said, sounding surprised. “Does it say how to cure it?”
Jonas shook his head and tapped his book. “Not here.” He looked at Wynter. “You?”
Wynter was already lost in her runic tome again, mumbling under her breath and scrawling on a piece of parchment. Therewas a furrow in her brow as she concentrated, but it cleared when she looked up. “I think I’ve got it.” She reread her handwriting, the furrow returning. “It’s actually a simple antidote, though I suppose it does need rare magical ingredients and someone who can read runes, so ‘simple’ might not be the right—”
“Not to rush you,” Reeve rasped, one hand holding his stomach and the other pressed to his wound, “but unless you have a whole barrel of that cleaning powder, you’re going to want to hurry up with the cure.”
The threat of him vomiting again had Wynter leaping into action, pulling colorful ingredients from the shelves and hastening over to her terrarium to pluck an assortment of plants, including two angelrose petals that continued glowing even after they left the vine. A strong floral aroma flooded the room, sending Jonas into a sneezing fit, but watery eyes or not, he watched on with visible awe as Wynter got to work.
It wasn’t true alchemy she was doing, since that involved the magical transfiguration of matter and would require her to tap into the small amount of ellixen she’d retained after her Impartation—something that was not only incredibly dangerous but alsobeyondillegal. But regardless, potion making was still a perilous art, particularly when it used unstable magical ingredients. Wynter had taught herself everything she knew, and while she claimed to be a novice, Viri couldn’t imagine trusting anyone else with her life—or in this case, Reeve’s.
“Done,” Wynter declared, stoppering a glass vial and giving it a shake. The liquid within was pink and glowed slightly from the angelrose petals. “Which of you two has known Ashton the longest?”
She looked between Sage and Jonas, oblivious to Viri turning solid on the couch.
“Why?” Sage asked cagily.
“Wraith blood is nasty stuff,” Wynter said. “It goes beyond the physical—much like how wraiths themselves attack not just the body, but also the mind and spirit. According to legend, at least.” She shrugged. “Point is, to keep the wraith blood from lingering in Ashton’s psyche even after the poison is purged from his body, the cure needs to be administered by someone with a strong emotional connection to him, forged over as many years as possible. The longer you’ve known each other, the deeper the connection, which will ensure the potion is powerful enough to expel all traces of the wraith blood from his system.”
There was a beat of silence, before Sage said, “That makes no sense whatsoever.”
Wynter shrugged again. “Magic rarely makes sense. That’s why it’s so interesting.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Jonas said, bouncing excitedly at herside.
“So, who is it?” Wynter pressed, holding the pink vial out toward the reapers.
Neither of them moved, their eyes flicking instead to Viri, whose heart had begun to pound in her ears.
Reeve cleared his throat beside her, and the slightest turn of her head caused their eyes to lock. As unwell as he looked, he was still impossibly handsome, but there was something in his gaze now, a challenge and a question, as he waited to see what she would do.
She, however, had limited options. She’d already started down this path—it was too late to turn back now.
“It’s me,” Viri admitted, standing shakily and walking toward her friend. “I’ve known Reeve the longest.”
Wynter’s dark eyebrows shot upward. “What are you talking about? You only met him after he was arrested last week.”
Viri shook her head. “I’ve known him since I was four.”
A sharp breath from Wynter. “Youwhat?”
“Thirteen years,” Viri confirmed, feeling an odd sense of relief at having the truth finally out there. Or one truth. The other was coming—she could feel it.
Wynter leaned forward and hissed, “How is that possible? He’s the Reaper Priest’s most loyal follower!”
Viri winced. “I know.”
“The Reaper Priest whomurdered your parents!”
Viri winced again. “Yes.”
“The Reaper Priest who you’ve sworn to hunt down and make pay for everything he’s done!”
This time, Viri just nodded, though from the corner of her eye she saw Sage take an angry step forward, halted only by Reeve’s restraining arm. Even Jonas had his hands clenched by his sides, as if upset to hear anything against their monstrous leader.
