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The thought of not reading in the east wing, or sitting in the east wing alone, displeased him immensely.

He was not stupid. He had known for some time what the child was. Her blood smelled Rathmor. The proximity of Thrykis to Yorali was answer enough. The child was Teorin's. And Nox, calculating as she was, had found the perfect way to position herself while getting exactly what she wanted. Whether humiliating Teorin was part of the intent he could not be certain. But if they were on good terms she would not be here. That told him enough.

It did not anger him. If anything it impressed him.

"Tomorrow, then," Aviaryn said.

He realized that indeed, he did wish to go to the Bloodhaven. He wanted to show her what he was like when he was not in constant pain, not hobbling through corridors, not struggling to take a full breath. He wanted her to see that version of him.

He stood.

"Tomorrow, then," he said.

CHAPTER 32

A Bigger Vial

The fire was already burning when I ducked through the doorway.

Eravic glanced up from the herbs spread across the table.

"You are precisely on time."

"I thought punctual patients were every healer's dream."

"Not a healer."

"You have certainly been acting like one."

"I have been handing you increasingly unpleasant things to drink."

"That sounds suspiciously like poisoning."

"If you ask the wrong person, yes."

One corner of his mouth lifted. Then dropped when he saw my face. "How long since the last cough?"

"This morning."

I did not tell him it lasted longer than the one before it. Or that my vision went white at the edges the way it had the night I died.

The look on his face told me that he already suspected the answer.

He reached for the newest vial. Larger than the last.

I frowned. "It keeps growing."

He handed it to me. "Drink."

I took one cautious sip and immediately grimaced. "It tastes like boiled moss."

"It is boiled moss."

I stared at him.

"You're joking."

"I am."