Lynia swallowed down a sudden burst of nerves. “What are you uncertain about, then?”
“Whether the intended recipient will be willing to take it.” His fingers tightened against hers. “Before the enchantment, I’d thought to offer this to you as a show of my commitment, but I feared you weren’t ready for such a thing. Now there’s an added link, though it isn’t something as permanent as a bond.”
Their eyes met, and she couldn’t look away from the solemn pool of blue, so full of emotion she could barely fathom the depths. She wanted to pull him close, but fear held her back. What did he want? What was she willing to give?
She cleared her throat. “What are you asking me?”
“I ask nothing of you.” One corner of his mouth tipped up. “It is an oath from me. A promise that I will love you forever, even if we should ultimately part. The spell Fen added is only a bonus.”
Her heart swelled until she feared it would shatter, and her eyes tingled with moisture. How could such a stubborn, contrary man hold such unexpected sweetness? She lowered her forehead to his chest as she struggled between past fear and future hope. Yes, she loved him. But to say it risked so much.
The warmth of his lips brushed against the top of her head. “If you are not ready to accept that, I understand,” he murmured. “Truly, I expect nothing in return.”
Lynia tipped her head back and brought her mouth to his. “I would wear it proudly. But with me so unsure of the future, are you certain you want me to have it?”
“Completely,” he replied at once.
She pulled back a little so that she could meet his eyes once more. “Then yes. I’ll accept the ring.”
She hadn’t realized the depth of his tension until his shoulders sagged in relief. Then he lifted her right hand, their fingers still twined, and shifted his grip to her palm so he could slide the ring over her finger. Emotion rose up, filling her throat, but she couldn’t untangle any of it. At the moment, she didn’t want to.
“If you’ll link with the spell and then me, we can activate Fen’s gift,” Lial said softly.
Lynia reached for the enchantment within, connecting easily. “Solid work.”
When Lial’s energy brushed against hers, she opened without hesitation. “So it is,” he whispered into her mind.
The magic surged, firming the link, and their feelings spilled between them with no need of words. And for a moment, she wanted nothing more than to hold him.
So she did.
Lynia curled her arms around his waist and settled her cheek against his chest, the steady pounding of his heart a comfort she hadn’t realized she needed. Then he enfolded her in his arms, one hand splaying low on her hip and the other curving up her back. Almost absently, he caressed circles across the base of her neck until she shivered.
“I wish we could stay this way all morning,” Lial murmured.
“As do I.” She wanted to savor the moment, but the image of the bubbling potion broke into her thoughts. There could be no true savoring with so much left undone. “Unfortunately, the potion will be ready soon, and it will be ruined if I miss the curing stage.”
His sigh tickled her ear, but she felt him nod. “Let’s see it, then.”
Still, he held her for a few heartbeats longer before loosening his hold. Lynia kissed him and stepped back, trying to ignore the way her lips tingled as she crossed over to the workbench. She wanted to forget about potions and plagues and drag Lial upstairs, all the worlds be damned. The only thing that stopped her was the sure knowledge that it would destroy them both.
Neither of them would be able to live with such an abdication of duty.
Lial rested his hand lightly against her side as he bent down to examine the potion. Then he skimmed the recipe beside it. “This looks perfect. Well done.”
“I thought it might help if you add healing magic.”
The color washed from his cheeks. “No.”
“Why not?” Lynia asked, taken aback by the sudden snap in his tone.
“The way my healing magic fed the virus…” Lial dropped his hand from her waist and turned his back on the potion as though avoiding temptation. “I’m afraid my power could bring disaster. It might accelerate the sickness in everyone who drinks it.”
Oh.
For a moment, that oh was all she could think. The impact of such a thing… A shudder went through her, and she had to resist the urge to tug Lial away as though his proximity might contaminate the mixture. If he hadn’t made that discovery last night, they very well could have created that disaster.
“I hate to say that what happened with Korel is a good thing. But.” At Lial’s angry, startled glance, she rested her hand on his shoulder. “We wouldn’t have known otherwise.”
Lial flinched. Gods, she shouldn’t have said that. He wasn’t ready to hear any such thing. He was a brooder—really, they both were. She wouldn’t appreciate such an observation if she were in his place, either.
“I should do a healing session with Caeleth,” Lial said softly. “Food should be arriving soon, and I’ve contacted Maddy, who will help me feed Caeleth. You can finish the potion yourself, correct? I assumed that you would.”
She wanted to groan at the way he’d closed himself off, but she understood it. He’d been so broken the night before, and although he acted more like himself today, that pain wasn’t gone. Even in the tender moments, it waited beneath the surface. She might prefer he confide in her, but only when he was ready.
Besides, she could see herself in another role in addition to confidant, one she could fill beyond this crisis. They could work together here. If she mastered distilling, she could take care of that task while he healed the more seriously injured. As a bonus, she could send away the annoying few who wouldn’t take care of small cuts and scrapes on their own.
“Of course. See to Caeleth.”
Despite his turn in mood, Lial leaned down to give her a quick kiss before striding away, and she smiled. Then she remembered that Maddy would be arriving soon to help, and a new realization had her wincing instead. She’d planned to see if Maddy would retrieve her clothes, but the young healer wouldn’t have time for that now.
Lynia was going to have to ask Arlyn or one of the other ladies, but her friendship with most of them was fairly new. Though the same could be said of Maddy, the younger woman was less inclined to jest at her expense. Considering how much the others had teased her at dinner the other night, she might be better off putting on her cloak and heading for her room herself. Then she wouldn’t have to hear endless jokes about spending the night with Lial.
Not that it should concern them. Nor should she be embarrassed by it—and she wasn’t. But she’d never been good at handling the teasing of friends. Lynia could shrug off or rebuke an enemy’s taunts, but her tongue froze at a well-intentioned joke. No matter how many centuries she lived, she never learned the trick of it.
Better to focus on the potion awaiting her attention.
Her mood nearly as sour as Lial’s now, Lynia snatched the recipe from the workbench and scanned the directions again. Had she missed anything related to healing magic? There was no mention of a healer adding energy. Or not. But why would Lial’s power have affected the virus in the first place? Resting her chin on her hand, she lowered the paper to the table as she considered the question.
He’d said the virus was protected by magic in the outer…envelope, it was called. Lynia opened her notebook and flipped through the pages until she found the sections Maddy had highlighted on viral structure. She hadn’t taken the time to spell-copy these pictures—that was a more exacting process—but she’d started to understand the descriptions better.
Somewhat.
The answer had to be in the way viruses worked. If Meren had altered the virus Bleyiak had used on Abuiarn, what changes might he have made? Were they specific to Moranaian elves, or would the same thing happen to Naomh if Lial attempted to heal him? Lynia grabbed her pen and started scrawling down the
questions. Lial might have some of the answers, especially when it came to Naomh.
She was so intent on her thoughts that she almost missed the shift in light as the potion finished. Fortunately, she caught it in time to remove the flask from the heat and shift it over to the curing station. According to the recipe, it would need to set for three marks before the herbal concoction reached full potency.
Nothing to do now but wait.
Chapter 35
Lial stared down at the mage in the bed, almost hesitant to scan him. Gods, what had last night done to him? He rarely paused before attending to his duties. Now, he found himself peering at Caeleth with his eyes instead of using magic. Why? Was it fear, or was there a reason for his odd reticence? If Elan had reported nothing amiss, the latter seemed unlikely.
Even so.
The mage’s cheeks had a pink tinge as though he’d been out in the cold or wind. But of course, the man had ventured into neither. Frowning, Lial pressed his wrist to Caeleth’s forehead, and the heat of the man’s skin set Lial’s heart to pounding. That wasn’t normal.
He lowered the blanket to check the mage’s wound. The bandage appeared to be fine, but that meant little with a fever present. Sure enough, as soon as Lial removed the dressing and examined the injury, cold dread filled him. Where before the gash had been healing cleanly, today the scab had taken on a yellowish tinge, and the skin around the wound was an angry red.
An infection.
As always, Lial had scanned for bacteria during the initial healing. The gut in particular could be tricky that way, although elven bodies generally purged errant bacteria without a healer’s aid. Most wounds that festered this way had done so because of iron fragments caught in the body, as Lyr’s injury had once done.
Lial needed to scan the gash with his magic, but once again, he hesitated. A small shiver slipped down his spine like fingers mapping vertebrae, and he stiffened against the sensation. No. This wouldn’t be like last night, no matter what he had to do to ensure it. He clenched his jaw and extended his magic in a quick, almost defiant scan. The truth took only a moment to find.
It wasn’t iron to blame—it was the virus.
Out of reflex, Lial took a step back as he withdrew his magic, but it was a futile gesture. He’d already been exposed. As had Lynia, Elan, and gods knew how many others. Maddy, Fen, and Anna had all been here the night before. Even the guards outside the door might be at risk. But how long had Caeleth been infected? Who had given him the illness? It made no sense.
He spun around to ask Lynia if anyone had stopped by, but the words locked in his throat. She perched on the stool beside his workbench where she could hunch over her notebook. Though he couldn’t see her face, he could imagine it—forehead furrowed, her teeth worrying at her lower lip as her eyes skimmed the page. How could he tell her they were both at risk? If anything happened to her, it would be his fault.
Just like Aralee.
All of his years of study, reduced to nothing. Gods. He should have left her alone. If he hadn’t been a selfish drec, he would have withheld his feelings instead of declaring himself with a ring. He should have kept their interactions to research alone, and she would be safe in the library, not sitting across the room from likely death—a death he would be helpless to stop.
The thought of her writhing in pain as the virus tore through her body, damaging everything in its path, had him shaking like a scout who’d stayed in the cold too long. Miaran. He’d made it his life’s work to learn every healing method he could after Aralee’s death, but none of them had helped save Korel. Quite the opposite. What if he was soon faced with the same choice he’d been forced to make last night?
He could never stop Lynia’s heart. Never.
Lial pinched his eyes closed and forced himself to take a breath. Then another. If he let his thoughts keep going in that direction, he would go mad. They weren’t there yet, and they might never be. Not even Caeleth was lost yet. After all, there had to be a solution, or Ralan wouldn’t have tasked them to find it. The amount of virus in the young mage was far, far less than Korel had borne. If no one used healing magic on him, they might yet save him.
“Lial?”
His eyes snapped open, and he held up a hand before Lynia thought to approach. “Stay over there.”
Her lips turned down. “What’s wrong?”
“Caeleth has the virus.” Lial walked to the center of the room, away from the mage, before daring to use his magic to scan himself. As before, he found no trace of illness. “I don’t understand how this is transmitting, but we’re both at risk. Even though I haven’t found it in myself, I…”
Lynia’s eyes went wide. “You can’t be sure. But how could Caeleth be ill?”
“I don’t know that either.” Lial flung his arms wide, frustration welling within him. “Did anyone enter while I was gone? Did you notice anything amiss?”
“No one new entered in my presence.” Lynia stood, but she didn’t approach. “As for anything amiss… He seemed well enough when I checked on him for Lyr last night. He had color in his cheeks, though he did seem warmer than I would have expected for the coolness of the room.”
So the fever had already been present, though Elan hadn’t seemed to note it. His negligence was a problem that needed addressing, but it wasn’t exactly a surprise, since fever wasn’t something elves tended to experience. A young healer of Elan’s skill level wouldn’t have thought to check, which was both a blessing and a curse. If the other man’s healing magic was stronger, his examinations would have increased the virus’s fervor.
Nor had Lial’s healing link alerted him to the oddity—a lapse he would have to rectify in the future.
“The only person we’ve known to have it is Korel,” Lial mused. “But if Caeleth was building a fever yesterday, that means the sickness was affecting him last night before I returned, so I couldn’t have unwittingly carried it from Oria.”
Lynia’s gaze flicked to the door. “I’ve seen guards at the door, except when I came to ask you about the fertility potion.” She gasped. “Oh, no. Being with me… Did I distract you so much that…?”
He shook his head. “I have spells set on the door to alert me to anyone’s entry. Only Elan is spelled to enter without disturbance.”
They stared at one another for a moment, countless questions heavy in the air. Then Lynia straightened her spine, and a determined glint entered her eyes. Settling her hand on her notebook, she tipped up her chin.
“Let’s get to work, then. This potion has a couple of marks to cure before we can test it. It’s time to put together what we know.”
“I shouldn’t—”
“I’ve been around Caeleth as much as you have,” she snapped. “Don’t be an idiot. The faster we find answers, the better. For everyone.”
Everything in him screamed to protect her. To send her as far from this danger as he could. But Lynia was right. No one would be safe if they couldn’t discover the best way to proceed. So he notified Lyr of the latest problem, directed Maddy to stay in her rooms, summoned Elan, and then he and Lynia settled in to work, piecing together all that they’d discovered to find the connections—and the cure.
Or so they hoped.
Koranel let the guards half-carry him into the holding room where Fenere was chained, though he was more than capable of walking. If he could complete this mission, he would be free, and so he gave it his best effort, moaning softly and double-layering the glamour that made him appear battered. He needed the other man’s commiseration if he hoped for cooperation.
The guards chained Koranel against the wall to Fenere’s left. Koranel groaned and slumped against the stone, letting his head loll as though he were exhausted. One of the guards kicked him in the leg with a bit more force than necessary, but Koranel could hardly blame the man. After all, he had betrayed the Myern by not revealing Norin’s and Allafon’s disloyalty, and no matter that Koranel had been trying to protect his family.
Even receivi
ng a pardon wouldn’t erase his complicity.
Once they were alone, Koranel had to resist the urge to speak. He wanted to ask Fenere all the questions he would have demanded of Korel—things he should have started asking decades ago when Allafon sent him to Braelyn to work with Norin. How far did this conspiracy go? Who else was involved?
What were their reasons?
Koranel didn’t have anything against other types of fae or even humans. Millennia ago, they’d shared an ancestor before branching into their current forms, and all were still similar enough to allow cross-breeding. What did it matter if more of their distant cousins came to Braelyn? Unfortunately, Allafon had hated humans in particular. He’d threatened to kill Koranel’s wife and children if he didn’t help bring down “that human-loving Telien and his miserable family.”
In the end, the why was incomprehensible.
“They’ve tortured you worse than me,” Fenere said.
The drec even sounded sympathetic.
“I was in charge,” Koranel said, putting a raspy growl into his voice as though he’d been screaming. “They didn’t believe I knew nothing.”
Fenere smirked. “Ironically, they did believe me, though the opposite is true.”
Koranel rested his head against the wall. “Don’t tell me. I’d rather not have something to torture out of me.”
As he’d hoped, Fenere’s eyes narrowed on his face as he processed what Koranel hadn’t said—Fenere would be up next. “Why’d they put you in here with me?”
Koranel shrugged, rattling the chains with a harsh clack. “Guess they’re taking you to isolation next. Glad to see the end of that room.”
Fenere’s throat worked, and his gaze darted toward the door as though the guards were about to march through. “This is Korel’s fault. You think they’ve caught him?”
“No one brought him to where I was held,” Koranel said. True, if not the whole story. “He doesn’t seem the type to come back to help us.”
It didn’t take much to loosen Fenere’s tongue—only time and fear of pain. Koranel could see the moment everything clicked in the other man’s mind, shifting his plans. “Korel wanted me to stab that mage. While the man was unconscious, Korel was going to feed him some of his blood for some spell. The mage wouldn’t have spotted me if I hadn’t slipped on a loose stone. I barely managed to get the knife in him before he pulled down part of the ledge. Good thing you trained me to move fast in a disaster, eh? And I still got a few bruises on my back from getting pelted.”
Solace Page 35
