“I’ll probably have to bleed you for a week or two.” I kept my voice flat as I spoke, walking back over to the shelves. I was looking for leeches, the big fat ones. He didn’t answer me. I sighed as I took a jar off a shelf that contained eight large leeches. I inspected them for a few moments. “You’re not going to say anything about it?”
“What is there to say, Dy’ne?”
I grabbed the tiny, rusty leech tongs off the rough wooden table, walked over and dropped a big fat slithering slug right over the wound. The coblyn’s slobber had probably soaked into the surrounding tissue and was now gradually seeping back into his bloodstream. I rubbed his bicep around the wound. The skin was a little warmer than the rest of him. It would actually be easier to tell if he had more fat on him. Unfortunately, he had practically none. His body was fatless, and he’d waste because of it. In short, I wasn’t looking forward to the next few days.
* * * *
On the fourth day the weakness hit him hard. I sat on the floor next to Yorwrath’s cot, with my knees drawn to my chest, with both books Aneurin had saved for me and a couple from the shelves written in common spread before me. He wheezed softly in his sleep, his breath labored between pale lips. The first time I heard it, I didn’t believe it. His breath caught, ripping my attention from my books. I staggered across the room to those shelves as I heard those struggling breaths again.
“No. No. No. No. No,” I chanted as I looked through the shelves. “No! You’re not going to die on me!” I yelled to no one as I searched for the small vial of spirit of hartshorn.
When I finally found it and returned to the cot the wheeze was gone, and not in a good way. I had to place my ear to his mouth to hear his breathing; his chest barely moved at all.
“Yorwrath?” I shook him. He didn’t wake. I opened the vial under his nose, and his eyes fluttered open. “I’m sorry,” I whispered “I…” I leaned my forehead against his…and his last gesture was to tilt his head to press his lips to mine. That was when the death rattle sounded, that hollow noise in his chest. I sat back and stared down at him. He didn’t look like he was sleeping.
Those eyes were open and staring at me accusatorily.
You’re not allowed to die.
I jumped up and ran across the room again. I had seen something the other day—something I didn’t believe was possible. My cheeks were wet with tears as I combed through the shelves once again. This time, I was looking for a large jar labeled Dragon’s Blood.
“You’re not dying! You might be a horrible piece of shit, but I’m not going to let you die on me!” I yelled to the corpse as I snatched the large black jar from the shelf. I walked to the small rough wooden table and ran back over to my pile of books. I snatched the one my mother had given me off the floor and walked back to the table. I quickly flipped through the pages before I came to the odd spell at the back. It was one of a few pages where the vellum still looked new, and the gold-leaf filigree around the title of the remedy was still sparkling and bright. On all the other pages the ornamentation had rubbed to yellow-brown or disappeared completely. I placed my hands on the ancient pages and took a deep breath.
The recipe dated the book, due to the fact no one had seen an actual dragon for hundreds of years. Dragon’s blood, however, was said to keep its potency for millennia. At the top of the page that beautiful gold script read, “To Reverse Fresh Death.” The recipe called for a corpse dead for no longer than an hour, dragon’s blood, an embalmer’s syringe, a handful of dried khat leaves, black onion seeds and oil of vertiver. I brought the ingredients in front of the fire as the book suggested and dragged Yorwrath’s body directly in front of the hearth.
Before that moment I had never walked a circle before—I had spread salt for protection but never walked a circle to invoke anything—but the book had specific instructions, so I followed them. Everything tingled as I sat inside the circle and coated Yorwrath’s supine, nude form in the oil. He had yet to cool, but his skin had that odd almost waxy feel that the freshly dead tended to have. I mixed some of the blood with the khat and black onion seeds. Half of the mixture I put into a cup of boiling water, and the other half I drew into the embalmer’s syringe. I spoke the words written in the book as I climbed over Yorwrath’s hips with the syringe in hand. It said to pierce the heart with the syringe, so I did it the quickest way I knew how, and that wasn’t through the sternum.
Luckily he was slender enough that counting his ribs required only a bit of pressure. From his collarbone I counted three ribs down, and right under the third I stabbed him with the massive needle and injected him with the dragon’s blood. The reaction was almost instant. He gasped, and I—as instructed by the book—held his nose and poured that vile-smelling mixture of blood and herbs down his throat. I pulled the needle out and broke the circle, walking it backward as instructed. His breathing and heartbeat returned stronger than before.
When I tossed everything into the fire, it belched out green and black flames that made me jump back and trip over Yorwrath’s body. I smacked into the ground on my bottom with a grunt. Then, after the pain subsided, I dragged his body back to the cot and cleaned up. I didn’t want to think about what I had done. I suppose it was the final nail in the coffin, so to speak. I couldn’t deny it anymore… I had practiced witchcraft. The only thing I regretted as I placed the jar of dragon’s blood back on the shelf was that I hadn’t been there to save Aneurin.
I was proud of myself—I didn’t cry. The wheels in my mind started turning then. Once Yorwrath was better…I’d hunt Islwyn and Caoilfionn like the dogs they were.
Sometime during the night I passed out, kneeling beside the cot with my head on Yorwrath’s shoulder. I was woken up by fingers trailing across my forehead and down my cheek. My joints ached, and I realized at some point during the night the fire had gone out. Though it was still summer, the cool below ground still had enough of a chill to make my body ache. I leaned into that delicate touch.
“You’re a pretty thing when you sleep. Not merely for a Dy’ne either.” His voice was still weak. I peered up at him. “I know,” he added, pulling his hand away from me.
“What do you know?” I raised my violet gaze to him.
“I know what happened, Dy’ne. Don’t play stupid; we both know you’re not.”
“And?” I raised a brow.
“
Diolch yn fawr
.”
“Dolfin what?”
“Thank you, it means thank you.”
“Clearly the fever fried your brain,” I groused scratching the back of my head.
“I might be who I am and believe that your kind only exists to serve mine, but I am capable of gratitude. It’s your multitudinous breed that seems to lack that concept, Dy’ne.”’
“Well, we’re even now, and we can go back to hating each other.”
“Even?”
“I know what you did.”
“And what is it exactly that you think I did, Dy’ne?” Our gazes locked and within those rusty depths of his eyes lurked a thread of gold that seemed to twist and turn with the flicker of the firelight.
“You saved me. You knew you were dying, and you kept riding toward the temple. You could have stopped and died among the trees—but you led us here.”
“I was dying and not thinking clearly,” he grumbled, crossing his arms.
“Clearly. Regardless, we’re even.” I pressed the back of my hand to his forehead and took his temperature. The fever was gone. I refused to comment on it further while I checked him over. His grip was still weak. “Punch my hand as hard as you can.” I held up my hand, and he did as requested. There was hardly any impact at all. “Now the other.” He repeated the process with the damaged arm with less of an effect. “A little weakness is normal. You won’t be able to wield a sword for a while.”
“You might as well slit my throat now, Dy’ne. I’m not going to claim you; you’re used goods.”
“Don’t worry, Grwn won’t know.” I stood and walked over to the door largely ignoring what he said.
“And where do you think you’re going, Dy’ne?”
“For some fresh air. It’s stale in here.”
Outside the temple, the leaves that covered what was once the sprawling city had started to turn, the vivid green fading to yellow, orange, red, and brown in some spots. I stood there on the stairs in only the short shift whose hem brushed against the curve of my bottom, and that necklace Aneurin had given me. My hair caught the wind, and the soft smell of summer flowers and apple blossoms drifted on the air. I took a deep breath and released it with a shudder. I had cried all the tears I could cry. Beyond that there was a feeling of loss that settled into my bones. My life had been turned upside down, and now I didn’t know what to do. What had happened only proved to me what I knew all along, that prophecy was complete and utter garbage, and no one’s word was to be trusted… And then I heard the hoofbeats of two approaching horses.
At first, all I saw was Islwyn, his blond curls bobbing as he bounced along in the saddle. He was exhausted and covered in dirt. Those clear blue eyes were shadowed with dark bruised circles from lack of sleep. I walked down the stairs that led from the temple, picked up a rock off the ground, and threw it at him as hard as I could. The rock connected with the pale blond’s forehead with a sickening crack. Islwyn cried out and covered his eyebrow with his fingers as blood trickled down his face, and I smiled with my lilac eyes narrowed to slight slits in delight.
In my peripheral vision I saw, as Islwyn dismounted, someone behind him slip from Caoilfionn’s back. Someone with dark hair and blank mismatched eyes. Was it Aneurin? I didn’t have time to get a good look before that odd light flashed around Caoilfionn, who changed back into his human form. My heart beat so fast that my chest felt tight. Could it be? I gasped when my sight came back—it was indeed Aneurin. I ran to his side as fast as I could, but before I could reach him, Caoilfionn stepped between us. I shoved the slight creature of silver and light and attempted to step around him. He matched me movement for movement.
“Valentin—” the unicorn started to say.
“Aneurin!” I called his name, drawing his attention… And then my heart sank. There was no recognition in his eyes. It was like he was staring at a stranger. He didn’t even step toward me. Instead, he turned to Islwyn and said something in their native tongue. “You fu-aurghh.” I couldn’t even form a word to describe the hatred that filled my heart as I attacked Caoilfionn like a rabid animal, biting, spitting, and clawing at anything I could get my hands on. The slender unicorn grabbed my wrists and twisted me around, pulling me back against his body. The noises that escaped my throat were both sorrowful and menacing.
“Shh…” He attempted to soothe me as I struggled against him. The slenderness of his body was misleading. He might have looked like a strong gust of wind could blow him away, but his strength surpassed his size. Aneurin stepped around us with Islwyn. “He do—” I elbowed him as hard as I could and stepped down hard on his foot. He didn’t wail in pain like a human would have, but he released me.
“Aneurin!” I called again as I ran after them. They were halfway up the stairs. Aneurin paused and turned to me, and then he stared for a while.
“Do I know you?” Those four words cut me deeper than I thought possible.
“You claimed her,” Islwyn chimed in, still blotting his bleeding forehead. I could already tell he’d need stitches…and it made something not so deep inside me want to sing and dance with glee.
“I claimed a—” he stopped himself and looked at me for a few moments, his eyes really taking me in. “Well, if you’re addas you’re addas, I suppose.” The casualness of his words finished me off. Taking a deep breath, I pushed back tears and shoved past both of them.
“Don’t worry about it.” I was stunned by how cold my voice sounded.
The only one who followed me into the temple was Caoilfionn. I walked down the curving stairs that led to the workshop below. He said nothing as I threw the door open and gathered my clothes. Yorwrath sat up slowly, watching me curiously. When he saw Caoilfionn he started to rise.
“Save your strength. Aneurin’s alive,” I muttered as I pulled on my trousers.
“Oh?” Yorwrath relaxed a little, his new molten gaze tracking me through the room.
“Valentina’s throwing a tantrum because he doesn’t remember her. But if she had allowed me to finish she would know that his memory will eventually return,” Caoilfionn explained unenthusiastically.
“And his feelings?” I turned around and glared at the unicorn. That ever-changing rainbow gaze slid away from me to look at the fire.
“He is full in his power now, an—”
“And a True King doesn’t have a heart. That was one of the first things you said to me,” I sneered as I put on my bodice and pulled the strings tight. “I’m not fucking stupid. It was a veiled warning, because…elves, mages, druids, and all of you are all full of these convoluted piece-of-shit warnings instead of saying what you fucking mean.” I yanked my boots on and shoved passed Caoilfionn. “I’m done. Done!”
“You’re not going anywhere, Dy’ne.” Yorwrath snorted.
“And who the fuck’s going to stop me? You?” I laughed and pushed through the door without glancing back. I climbed the stairs to the room above we all shared and opened the door. Aneurin, Islwyn, and Grwn were gathered around the fire eating more rabbit. Grwn beamed at me.
“Look! He’s alive, Valentina!” Grwn declared. I nodded a bit.
“I know.” That was my only response as I walked past all of them. Grwn’s face fell, and Aneurin said something in the elven tongue, and Grwn jerked like he had been hit. Out of the corner of my eyes, I caught the look of disgust that spread across his face.
“Well, I bet you’re happy,” Grwn groused to Islwyn.
“Trust me, I’m not,” the blond responded as I walked into the back room and gathered up my sword and pack. I couldn’t really hear what was going on behind the door other than muffled shouting. I wrapped some of the fruit Grwn had grabbed from the garden and stuffed it into my bag and pulled it over my shoulder.
Back in the outer room both Islwyn and Grwn were yelling and pointing at Aneurin. Caoilfionn stayed quiet, leaning in the doorway. The light caught that long straight white hair and illuminated it, making it look silver. I sighed loudly as I walked past them, and they all fell silent.