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Usages: To prevent and cure respiratory ailments and diseases.
Instructions: Bring one cup of water to a boil. Add two crushed nightingale flowers (stem included). Add a pinch of dandelion. Add two dollops of honey and let the mixture brew until it reaches a deep violet hue and promptly remove from heat.
That was it.
That’s the same description of the flower in A Void so Dark. I shivered from the goosebumps that tickled my neck and flipped it over in my hands, examining the worn edges and sigils on the cover. Searching the book to see who it belonged to revealed it was nameless. No price tag either. It was as if the universe had placed it there specifically for me to find.
I didn’t want to risk anyone else discovering it, and as much as I didn’t want to do what I did next, time was of the essence, and I had little to spare.
Checking over my shoulder, I slipped the book into my satchel and hurried down the staircase, passing the clerk with a small wave before shouldering the door open. My heart lurched as my feet hit the street outside.
Sugarfoot snorted her disapproval—sensing my deception—as I raced along the flagstone to the only person who could give me answers. Confirmation.
Mari startled as I charged through her door next, fumbling with the jar in her hand. “Elowyn, love, are you okay?” she asked, her hazel eyes wide with concern.
I nodded and waved off her question. Then I breathlessly slapped the book onto the counter and pushed it toward her, opening to the dog-eared page. I pointed to the image of the nightingale. “Have you heard of this before?”
Her jaw slacked. “Where did you get this book?”
“Is it real?” I pressed.
She straightened her apron, her nose crinkling in disgust. “In stories from fae folklore, yes.”
“So, is it true? Is there some way to get it?” My words were desperate, but I didn’t care to shroud my tone in bravery now.
Mari closed the book and shoved it across the counter like it was infected. “Not any I’m willing to take. If it was real, and I’m not saying it is, I wouldn’t touch that flower. That realm and river are cursed. Who knows what dark magic runs through it?”
I ground my molars together. The answer to my mother’s problems was potentially right in front of my face, and she expected a few scary stories to deter me? If it were true, and the nightingale did exist, the harm of not trying heavily outweighed the risk of taking a chance. Living in a world without my mother was not one I wanted to suffer.
Dark magic be damned.
“Leave this be, Elowyn,” Mari warned as if she could read my thoughts. “I know how hard it is to watch someone you love?—”
“Die?”
She wrung her hands, a beat of silence passing between us before she spoke again. “The best thing you can do is spend as much time with her as you can. At least try it. The elixir I provided will alleviate any adverse symptoms. When the trade deal settles, you’ll be the first person I notify.”
Mari’s words passed over me but didn’t fully settle. I nodded, tucking the grimoire under my arm, noticing the way Mari’s shoulders slumped in relief as it left her presence.
She added, “Please, promise me you won’t get involved in fae matters. They’re cunning creatures. And not to be trusted.”
Although I nodded again in agreement, I was deep in forethought. My reassurance to her absentminded—at best.
Because I’d already made up my mind.
I was going to cross the Dolorem River, find the nightingale flower, and right my wrong. Even if it was the last thing I did.
Three
“All we can do now is make her comfortable.”
Rain drummed against the window, muffling the nurse’s words. Not that I needed the natural dampener, the rumbling terror in my ears did that already.
She stood at the other end of the table with her wrists perched on the top rail of the chair, her black hair pulled into a neat bun. Betrys had been tending to my mother since I’d gotten back from the apothecary six hours ago, and the exhaustion that rolled off her was palatable. It only got worse when I broke the news about the figroot tonic.
Although she did her best to remain professional, I could tell Betrys was frazzled. More on edge. And I was there with her.
Dread clung to the air. The unspoken—ever-encroaching—reality had come sooner than I ever hoped.
