“Go, Finley,” Hadriel shouted.
“Here we go.” I took the syringe from Hannon before bending to the mug and smelling. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply. A little more acidic because of the rough grind. That meant it was a little more potent than a normal dose I might administer.
Nodding to myself, I didn’t fill the syringe as much as I might normally. It was better to err on the side of caution. I could always give her more. I could not give her less. This should be enough to allow her to breathe, and I could chase the rest of the poison away before it did further damage.
“Here we go,” I said again, and handed the syringe to Hannon. I picked a spot between the muscles in her upper arm. “Here.”
I stepped away, letting Hannon take my place.
With the calm, deliberate movements that made him excellent at nursing, he emptied the contents into Calia.
My heart raced, but my dragon fed me power to keep me going. To clear my panic.
Nyfain’s hand closed around my forearm before his solid warmth slid behind me, lending support.
Hannon pulled out the syringe and stepped back. “How long?” he asked.
“Not long. A minute. Two. Is her heart still going?”
He pushed her onto her back. Another glass fell off and crashed to the ground. He felt her pulse.
“Slow and weak,” he said before placing the heel of his palm on her chest, his other hand pressed over it, and beginning to pump. He kept the rhythm steady and normal, helping her heart keep going as the crowded everlass hopefully did its job.
“After thirty seconds, try to help her breathe,” I told him, turning away. I didn’t do this part. I wasn’t good at it. “That will probably be too soon, but it’s better to start too soon than too late.”
“What’s happening?” the king barked. “Why is she leaving?”
Nyfain shadowed me. “This is how the siblings work. She makes the draught, and he administers it. They’ve been doing this since they were old enough to know how. They’ve had a lot of experience. Give it a moment.”
“How long is a moment—”
“That’s thirty seconds,” Hadriel called out.
I squeezed Nyfain’s hand. Faced the wall. Thought about leaving the room.
People kept crying, yelling out. It sounded like there was some sort of scuffle. I didn’t let any of it seep into my thoughts. I just stared at the wall and let Nyfain hold me.
“One minute,” Hadriel said.
“I can get air in,” Hannon said, out of breath. “Her throat is not fully open, though.”
“Fuck,” I said under my breath. “Keep trying!”
If she were a shifter, we’d have more time, but faeries weren’t as hardy. They didn’t heal as fast. If she didn’t get enough oxygen in her brain—if she didn’t start breathing on her own—in four or five minutes, six tops, she probably wouldn’t come back from this.
“Breathe, Calia,” I said, resting a hand against the wall.
“C’mon, Calia,” Hadriel said. “Breathe, love. Let’s breathe together, okay? I’ve been in your position. I wasn’t poisoned—it was the curse being a cunt—but I still nearly died. Did I ever tell you that? Finley and the master saved me. Come back, and we’ll have a toast to celebrate being saved by pretty people with unbearable rage issues. Maybe not wine. You’ve probably gone off wine now, but something else. Maybe something stronger? Preferably not poisoned, am I right?”
The room fell into shocked silence. Hadriel could confuse anyone.
“Here we go, my love,” he coaxed. “I know you hear me.” I looked back, seeing his hand holding hers. He was patting it with the other. “Here we go. Big breath, now. Don’t take your sweet time because you like that Hannon is essentially kissing you. He’s hot, love, but he’s not worth dying over. Come on, big breaths now. I’m sure he’ll let you cop a feel when you’re better.”
Calia coughed, her body jerking with the effort of it. She sucked in a breath and then started coughing again. Clawed at her throat and rolled to her side.
Hadriel looked up at me desperately.
“It’s okay,” I said, putting up my hands. I laughed in relief. “Oh fuck, it’s okay. She’s going to be okay.”
I hurried to Calia’s side again.
“It’s okay, you’re all right,” I told her, stroking her back. “The remedy is working. We’ll give it a little more time to work through you, and then I’ll reassess, okay? We’ll make sure all of the poison is gone. But you’re going to live. Just take slow, deep breaths. It’ll get easier. As for the stomach issues, you might throw up or shit yourself. I can give you something else for that. That’s your body’s reaction to the poison, not the poison itself anymore. Okay? So when you need it, I can make you something.”
“Don’t be embarrassed about shitting yourself, love,” Hadriel told her, his hand now on her shoulder. “I’ve had experience with that, too. Goddess help me, I sure have. I’ll tell you some stories one of these days. You’ll be glad you did it because of poison. Cecil wouldn’t tell the whole fucking castle that story, at least.”