Bastian’s gaze skimmed over the rug. Thinking about it, perhaps.
“Please.”
Growling, he gave me a sidelong glare, which was fair.
Using that word was a low blow. But didn’t he advocate so-called dirty tactics?
His jaw feathered as he folded his arms.
Perhaps he wouldn’t be so easy to manipulate in this matter.
Fine. Logic, then.
“We made a good team in Lunden.”
He raised an eyebrow in question.
“We stopped the changeling, didn’t we?”
“We weren’t exactly working together on that.”
“No. But we were both working on it, albeit separately. And we stopped him just in time.” Lifting my chin, I met his gaze squarely. “Imagine what we could do if we did work together.”
Several things flickered over his face, each too quick for me to dissect. But they amounted to one, important outcome: he was thinking about my proposal.
Eventually, he drew a deep breath. “Fine.”
I shot upright, grinning. It had worked.
He raised his hands, frown deepening in response. “But you’re not a spy. I won’t be sending you out as one of my operatives. It’ll be desk work. Research. Very boring. No sneaking around or trying to get information from anyone.”
I didn’t care. It was something. A purpose. Maybe even a tiny chip of stone taken off the weight he was carrying.
“Whatever you need, Bastian.”
The way his eyes widened told me something that dimmed my smile.
No one had ever said that to him before.
I spent the next week reading old books and calming myself by focusing on the fire each day. Forcing the stains back had become increasingly exhausting, and they bubbled back once my attention waned, but focusing on sensory details as I did with the fire seemed to help.
As for my reading, it turned out the language that was similar to Latium was High Valens—one of the old fae tongues.
Bastian claimed they’d shared it with humans and that was how Latium had been born. If he hadn’t been fae, I’d have called him a liar—Latium had originated around the Central Sea, not Albion.
Then again, he’d told me fae had once inhabited the whole world, only pushed back into Albion because of human expansion and their own dwindling numbers. The inhabitants of Elfhame certainly looked more diverse than the humans of Albion.
I shelved his claims as “maybe true.” At the very least, he believed them.
Now I worked for him, he’d told me the contents of the note from his orrery, so I searched for mentions of a Circle of Ash or anything that might be similar. The more I read, the less I had to refer back to the book of High Valens grammar Brynan had provided.
It felt good. I was being useful. I was learning. Maybe we’d get somewhere and find the Circle of Ash before Dawn and keep the Sleep in place.
One morning, Rose walked me to an appointment with Elthea. We stopped at the bottom of the steps and she cocked her head. “Lunch at Moonsong after?”
I glanced at the orrery tower—Rose had taught me how to read the time from it. I needed at least an hour for the appointment—some stretched on longer. Then I could go to Kaliban’s with supplies, get my memory cleared, and get to the spire in perhaps forty-five minutes.
“Perry and Ella are coming,” she said with a playful lilt.
“Sounds great.” Once my memory was wiped, I would be able to stomach food in blissful ignorance of whatever Elthea was about to do to me. “I’ll meet you there.”
Inside, I found Elthea waiting in her treatment room. With only the briefest greeting, she waved me onto the bed. “This one…” Her fingers fluttered over her notebook with a kind of excited energy. “This might be the one, Katherine.” She smiled. Actually smiled—it sparked in her eyes.
My last treatment. I’d be able to go home.
Great. Awful. Did I really want to?
I swallowed down the knot of feelings and questions. Of course I wanted to be cured and go home. I would be able to hug Ella and stroke Vespera. I wouldn’t need to fear accidentally brushing against someone in the palace halls or on the street. I wouldn’t need to arrange to see Bastian every day to get my antidote.
He would be free of me and me of him. It was what we both wanted. An end to this awkward entanglement.
I gave Elthea a tight smile and sat on the bed. She strapped me down—ankles as well as wrists. That set my heart pounding harder, faster.
Just one more treatment. Then this would all be over.
Her gaze flicked over my fingers. “What a pretty ring.”
Bastian’s ring. Never reveal your heart. Nor his. “Thank you. It’s new.”
She held still and watched me, no doubt waiting for me to answer her unasked question—where did it come from?
I smiled blandly at her. Let her think the human too stupid to understand subtext.
Eventually, she huffed and opened the glass-fronted cabinet. Inside sat a smaller case that she unlocked and opened, revealing row upon row of tiny vials. Some glowed. Some glittered. One was a black void, as though it sucked light out of the very world.
I didn’t see which she selected, but she approached with something held tight to her chest.
“It was a challenge to get hold of this. One of the hunters died. But I’m sure we’ll see results.”
I swallowed. It was as though my heart was trying to beat its way up my throat and out. “What is it?”
She held up a tiny vial, only an inch long, the top sealed with black wax. Its contents moved sluggishly around, not responding to her movement but… as if it had a life of its own. It licked the top and bottom of the vial where she held it, perhaps drawn to her flesh. As it slithered and moved, it caught the light, gleaming a dark, yellowish green.
“This”—she held the vial up and examined it—“is manticore venom.”
“Venom? You’re going to poison me? That isn’t—”
“Are you a scientist, Katherine?”
“No, but I have a brain.” The harshness in my voice and the fact I questioned her—not bravery but desperation. I yanked on the leather straps but they held fast. She was insane. Why had I sent Rose away?
I tried to contain myself, but my breaths heaved. “I’m already poisoned. You’re going to kill me if you—”
“No, I won’t. I have done the research. You yourself should know that.” She gave me a thin-lipped smile as she approached the bed. “And if, somehow, I am wrong, well, I have the antidote to manticore venom right here.” She held up her other hand, revealing a larger vial full of translucent yellow liquid flecked with gold. “I promise this won’t end your life, Katherine.”
“Is all this really going to heal me? Or am I just an experiment?”
“Can’t both be true? This has all been a path towards a cure. What happened to you was unique. My methods must be similarly… unorthodox.”
I might not trust her, but I could trust in her inability to lie. I told myself that a dozen times as she cracked open the wax seal and bent over the bed.
“Now, drink up.”
For all I knew, this might not be any worse than the other things she’d done to me. It would be fine.
And if it was bad, Kaliban would be able to scrape away the memories so it would be like it had never happened.