"That's too much," I said, watching wide-eyed as the blood pulsed out in time with his heartbeat.
"He will be fine, my dear," Master Cassius said as Io smiled reassuringly. "We will be lucky to get enough even at that rate before his wound closes. He has powerful regenerative abilities. Far greater than he should. We have studied it extensively."
The thought of just how they studied his regenerative ability sent a wave of nausea racing through me that I didn't think had anything to do with the metallic scent of my blood in the air—or the faintly sweet scent of Io's.
"Speaking of," Aben said, from where he still leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his wide chest. He nodded to my wrist.
"You healed yourself, Sera," Io said as I looked down to find the bleeding had stopped. His crooked smile of delight was charming. It made my heart trip over itself in my chest.
I turned my wrist over and looked closer. Sure enough, the tiny cut was closed, the edges already knitting together.
I beamed. That was the kind of magic I could really get excited about. It would make me impervious to most wounds and even more illnesses. And best of all, it couldn't harm anyone if I ended up being shit at self-control. "That's handy," I said.
Io had that look on his face that made me think he was proud of me. I loved that look, because with it came the knowledge that he wanted me to be as strong as I could be. He relished my strength. He wanted me to be his mate, his match, and at the very least, his equal.
I looked away as he cut open my wrist again.
When Master Cassius decided he had enough blood, he began the task of assembling the ingredients. He dug a handful of white wood shavings out of a stoppered glass jar and threw them into a clean basin.
"Elderwood," he said at my curious look.
My eyes widened in horror, and he patted my arm. "Don't worry dear. These were not harvested from a living tree. They are from a broken limb gifted to the stewards by the Ildegarl itself.”
The look of confusion on my face must have been comical because the master tittered. "You have a lot to teach your lady, my boy."
Io turned to me, "The Ildegarl is the largest elderwood in the world. It grows near the Palace of Dreams, in Orin. The stewards are guardians who watch over the Elderwood Forests."
"But—" I said, scrunching my brow as I watched the master pour a white crystalline powder into the bowl of wood shavings as though salting his dinner. "I thought the last of the sentient forests was our Elderwood in the south."
"Fortunately not, though it is by far the largest,” Master Cassius said, grinding the wood shavings against the sides of the bowl with a short pestle. “—and very quietly protected by the stewards as well, I might add." He looked up sharply. "Thoughthatis a secret I should not have told before you officially become the Lady of Darkwatch."
"Your secret is safe with me," I told him, grinning.
"And she will be Lady of Darkwatch very soon," Io added.
I was curious about the stewards, though I was certain Cassius would not say more about them.
Windemere had the Arbor Guild who patrolled our border with the Elderwood to watch out for poachers who might brave the druidscap mushrooms that ringed the forest to try and claim a bit of the precious wood.
And, of course, the horse lords who lived on the wide Artaxian plains that surrounded its northern edges. They were the closest things we had to ambassadors to the trees.
But I had never heard of the Stewards of the Forests.
I made a mental note to ask Io later even though my brain was overloaded. I felt dazed when I tried to consider everything all at once.
I had these newly released powers. Io was apparently the rightful gods blessed king of the world. And I was about to have it officially confirmed that we were mates.
The implication of the last set my heart skipping fearfully again even as the reminder of the bond soothed much of my anxiety.
The rest of our problems would fall like dominoes behind the sanctity of the mating bond.
When confirmed by a master of the citadel, a priest, or the prime of a witch coven, the bond could dissolve a decades long marriage as though it had never been. It was heldthatsacred.
Master Cassius threw a spark from a strike plate down into the bowl of wood shavings. The resultant whoosh of flames cleared the tumultuous thoughts from my mind.
Elderwood could not be burned, but when the fire died down, the shavings were somehow a smoking pile of ash in the bottom of the basin.
Cassius quickly mixed them in with the blood and stirred until the contents of the basin were stained an unnaturally dark color for such a small quantity of ashes.
