“Then why were you given a sword?” Gunduin asked.
I ran my hands over the leaves of the everlass plants, closing my eyes and soaking up the glow of the day.
“She has told her story already, Gunduin,” Ami said as she and the others fanned out through the field. “It’s not one she probably wants to repeat. I’ll fill you in another time.”
He shrugged as he bent to prune one of the plants. And that was how we passed another hour, working in quiet, or mostly quiet, harmony. Ami or Claudile sang to the plants occasionally in another language I didn’t know and not many seemed to use, and I muttered to them. Even though the women still seemed distant and sometimes a bit cold (Claudile especially), it lifted my spirits and relieved my mind to feel camaraderie with people who gave everlass the respect and care it cherished. We had found one commonality, and we didn’t need to be friends to appreciate it.
Hannon waited patiently, whittling something out of a sliver of log or gazing into the healthy wood surrounding us. It was a pleasant sort of place, without the pressures and demands of a curse, demons, and people dying.
A while later, as Hannon and I were preparing to leave to meet the others from Wyvern, Claudile beckoned to me. “Finley, I wanted to get your exceptional opinion on this elixir.”
I ignored the sarcastic dig.
She led me to the backyard and stopped beside a simmering pot, the steam curling up into the sky, carrying with it a spicy-sweet fragrance. A spoon and a smattering of ingredients lay on a table beside the hanging pot, and she picked up the spoon and dipped it into the contents.
“What do you think about this?” She handed me the spoon with the liquid pooling inside it.
I watched her for a moment, wondering if she’d give me any clues as to what it was for. No. Apparently this was some sort of test.
I didn’t really care what these people thought of me—if they thought I was good with the plants and elixirs or not—but I did love a challenge, particularly this challenge. I knew what she was asking me. She wanted me to guess what they’d made and, if I could, come up with a way to make it better. Improving formulas was something I’d always had to do on my own—it was exhilarating to do it with others.
I smelled the brew before touching it to my lips. It took me a moment to identify each of the flavors in the symphony of taste, then another to categorize them. I thought for a long moment, running through what each ingredient was good for. There were a few possibilities, but none perfectly matched.
I grunted softly and shook my head. That was frustrating.
The only thing I did know was that the balance was off. The taste was much too tart. It nearly scratched the back of my throat as it went down. A large cup of this would likely start a countdown, at the end of which I’d need to sprint to the washroom. More than that in a twenty-four-hour period? Forget it.
“A petal of calla lily, one and a half max, would stop the raging diarrhea this probably causes.” I gave her back the spoon.
Hannon smirked and shaved another chunk off the wood he’d been handling. Claudile studied me for a long moment, as did Ami, standing on the other side of the backyard.
“Calla lily negates the best effects of everlass,” Claudile finally said. “It deadens it. It’s best used to temper the effects of the crowded plant.”
I tilted my head at her. “Oh yeah? I didn’t know that about the crowded plant. I’m still learning. Huh. That’ll be incredibly useful.” I looked at Hannon.
“You wouldn’t have needed it with the sickness we were facing,” Hannon said. “But I’m sure that’ll be helpful if you need to do something other than poison someone in the future.”
I barked out a laugh, thinking of the officers.
“You’ve given the crowded plant to people without knowing the risks?” Ami’s voice dripped with disapproval.
“All due respect, ma’am,” Hannon said, his tone calm. “You clearly don’t understand the kind of life we were living. Finley cured a kingdom. The serum might have killed people, but what was the alternative? To let them die slowly? And it worked. She cured them, starting with our father. I administered the elixir myself, and I knew the risks. She only uses that plant if the alternative is dire—”
“It’s fine, Hannon,” I murmured. “I get why she’s asking. It would have been reckless if they weren’t about to die anyway.”
“Why were they about to die?” Gunduin asked, sitting in a chair in the corner. “What do you mean she cured a kingdom?”
Everyone ignored him, and I picked my conversation with Claudile back up.