“I take it you belong to one of these death mongers?” Autumn asks, which earns an approving noise from Ulyssus. “That at least accounts for one year of your spectacular disappearance. Care to share what you did with the other two?”
“Feigned being human and joined Eryndor’s Spire training. Along with two friends.”
"Hmm.” Autumn makes a sound with the back of her throat. “Was it any good?”
“No.”
“Did you expect it to be?”
I let out a long breath. One thing I’ve learned about playing games with Autumn is that you’ve lost before you even started. It’s better to just tell her what she wants to know and hope she doesn’t want to know more. “I went to find a cure for auric poisoning. To unfuck what I did to Lilith. Make it so she can fly again.”
“Yes, I suspected the dagger incident had something to do with your sudden departure,” she says evenly. “And did you—find the antidote, I mean?”
“Still working on it.” I stop outside our tent and snag control of the conversation. “Speaking of antidotes, I’m hoping you might pull something from that arcane-magic filled brain of yours for Rowan.”
“Because she is the love of your life and you want to marry her?”
“Yes.”
“Not because she is an alchemist and you want to use her to cure Lilith?”
There it is. I raise my chin, but keep the rest of my body rock-still. “Can’t it be both?”
“It can.” Autumn shrugs a delicate shoulder and finishes the few steps left to the tent. “But just because it can doesn’t mean it is. Let’s see what we have on our hands first. She certainly isn’t fit to fulfill either calling unconscious.”
I hold the tent flap open to let Autumn inside and follow behind her while she surveys the scene—one unconscious human, one feral wolf, one exhausted prince and one idiot with shadows. For all the trouble we are causing, we don’t look all that impressive.
I nod toward Kyrian, who looks up from where he is studying maps spread on a low table. “Allow me to introduce?—”
“Prince Kyrian,” Autumn holds out her hand for Kyrian to shake. “A pleasure to see you again.”
“My apologies. Please remind me when we last met?”
“I never said we’ve met,” says Autumn. “I just said it was good to see you again.”
Right.
“Kyrain, meet Autumn,” I say tightly. Slate’s diplomatic envoy and spy. depending on what the situation calls for. “My aunt.”
“Ah.” Kyrian brushes a hand through his hair, betraying his fatigue. “A pleasure. I didn’t know you’d arrived.”
“There have been some developments.”
“Theron?”
“Being managed.” I say. “She is going to try to wake Rowan.”
Logan, still sprawled in wolf form along Rowan’s side, lifts his head and gives Autumn a wet sort of snort. I do quick introductions while everyone sorts themselves out.
“How long has she been like this?” Autumn rolls up her sleeves before pulling the top of Rowan’s night shirt open, exposing her chest.
“About a week,” Kyrian says, filling Autumn in on the details as she dips a finger into a water bowl and draws a rune along Rowan’s clavicle. The mark blooms honey-gold before sinking into her skin, and I try not to flinch. I trust Autumn with my life, but this is Rowan lying there helpless. Lying there, because I—like always — fuck up everything I touch.
“I don’t know if it helps, but Rowan gets headaches and dizzy spells,” Kyrain offers, pulling a slip of parchment from his pocket. “She was looking for these ingredients to brew a tonic she used in Eryndor to help, but never got them together before everything happened."
“Everythingbeing the decimation of a third of Theron’s steel arsenal in the space of two heartbeats,” I clarify.
Autumn frowns at the parchment. “Those are suppressors. Not by themselves, but if combined in the right way.”
