“The gold,” Finley whispered, turning to look out the window. “Blood.”
Arleth furrowed her brow and shook her head in apparent confusion.
I kept my hand in the air to keep her from speaking. If Finley’s concentration was broken now, she’d lose the thread of whatever had struck her, and she might never grab hold of it again.
She turned back around and stared at Arleth. “The spell in the reserve. You used blood to counter it. Nyfain’s blood. It needed to be freely given.”
“Yes…” Arleth replied slowly. “But that was a magical spell.”
Finley turned away again.
“A curse is a magical spell, too, it’s just more sinister. Nyfain altered the curse when he forced a shift. He punched a hole through it, in essence, and fragments were left behind, burrowing into his internal scars. He left fragments that burrowed into his internal scarring—” She pointed at me while continuing to look out at the bright sunlight. “You said he has scars on the inside, Hannon, and you were right. Scars on the inside, festering with those fragments. The curse’s magic was stripped away, but the altered portion was not. It needs a different counter-spell.”
Finley turned back, eyes sparkling. Radiance filled the air. She was on the right path now, I could feel it. She could feel it. She’d cure Nyfain, just like she’d cured the demon sickness. Just like she’d cured hundreds of other ailments over the years.
A proud smile graced my lips, and I basked in her moment of glory, passing the emotions down to my animal.
Finley sprang into action, tossing what she’d already created and starting anew. She pushed ingredients away and pulled new ones toward her.
“Demon blood,” she murmured. “The everlass works differently on different species. If you give it a job, it will try to do that job. But it needs direction, and the fragments of the spell festering inside of Nyfain have to be coaxed out.”
Her hands stilled on a pot of cold-seeping everlass, and she closed her eyes, very still. My animal roiled within me. A wave of goosebumps spread along my skin.
“The demon-trashed field, yes,” she whispered, gold-speckled eyes opening and narrowing on me. “The one by our village, Hannon, where you protected Sable from the demons, remember? I noticed the damage at one point when passing through the Royal Wood, though I haven’t had time to stop in. I’ll pick some of those and cold-steep them. That and…”
She knows what we are, my animal said as Finley started touching all the herbs one by one and looking around the room, her eyebrows low over her eyes.
“That and…” she said again, wandering among the pots.
She can’t know what we are, I replied. We don’t know what we are.
She feels it, though. She senses it, just as that big dragon senses it. Why else did he put you in charge of the advisory circle? He’s trying to forge a connection between us and his kingdom so we’ll guard it as we guard our kin and our community. So that we’ll die for it as we’d die for them, without thought, without emotion.
I shook my head minutely so that no one else would notice. I didn’t like sharing the things my animal said. Some of it unnerved me. Some of it would damn me.
“I’m not following,” Arleth told Finley, moving closer.
“Blood, freely given, has a certain kind of a magic,” Finley mumbled. A bookworm tended to have a lot of information stored in her head, just waiting to become useful. Finley loved when a random factoid could be pulled out and put into action, especially in her remedies. “It’s a wholesome magic. It is based on someone’s desire to help with their very essence—their life’s blood. Demon blood freely given, put into a healing mixture, might coax those shards of magic out of Nyfain’s scars. Ingredients that work well with demons will further entice them. And then the everlass mixture must attack the demon magic and burn it away, healing in its wake. The struggling plant should have the right potency. I think a crowded plant will be too much. This is what will free him, though. I feel it. I just need all the right ingredients.”
“Koo-kooo,” filtered in through the door. Then again.
“Freely given demon blood,” Finley murmured, ignoring the fake bird call. “I bet Govam will give it to me. He owes me, the bastard.”
Hadriel poked his head in. “In case you were wondering, that wasn’t a bird. The prince is coming. He’s coming, and he’s pissed. Again.”
“Damn it…” Finley glanced at the door, then looked around the room. “Is there a way to sneak out of here? I need to get to that field. I want to—”
An imposing presence filled the doorframe, his massive shoulders nearly spanning the width and his robust body projecting the sort of power and grace only a predator could possess. Finley froze as his golden eyes scanned the interior of the work shed, lingering on his mother for a moment, taking in his mate, and then slamming into me.