Evren stood perplexed, staring at the rows and rows of different plants. In some ways, they all looked the same. But they were all so completely different.
She let out a whimpered, broken cry and it had Evren snapping his head toward her. Sweat coated her forehead and upper lip. Her wound had swollen and angry red bubbles came to the surface. She was running out of time.
His fists clenched as his heart constricted. He could easily leave. Get the drink his body desperately screamed for. Then, head straight to the Jade Guild and meet with his uncle. Ask him for the last bit of coin he needed to catch a ship?—
Evren’s fists clenched at his sides. He’d do just about anything other than ask for his uncle’s help. He needed to do this. Heal the Enchantress, take her to Valebridge, get the hell out of this country.
He let out a terse breath and gripped the ends of his hair. Then, his eyes snagged on a small wooden box buried under a heap of ivy atop the workbench. He brushed the vines aside, careful not to push too hard in case they pushed back. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to look at the plant the same way again. Shuddering, he refocused on the box. “For Emergencies” was labeled across the top in flowing soft cursive.
He glanced at the Enchantress, still unconscious on the sofa. Something stirred in his chest, but Evren ignored it.
Carefully, he opened the box and pulled out a dried, yellowing bundle of herbs. He had no idea if this was the yarrow the Enchantress spoke of, but he didn’t have much time to ponder it.
He let his instincts guide him next, finding a mortar and pestle, grinding the dried plant to dust. Evren added a bit of now thawed water from the rain bucket to form a thick paste. Once he was satisfied, or at least thought there was nothing else he could do, he took the mortar full of paste to her side.
Kneeling again, he set the bowl down. The silver key in his pocket felt like a lead weight. Pulling him down with each moment he left her shackled.
Her brows pinched together, and her eyelids twitched. She was unsettled. In pain.
Evren couldn’t explain why, but his thumb grazed her brow, smoothing it out. She relaxed, her features softening against his touch. Quickly, he drew his hand away. He wouldn’t get distracted. He had a job to do.
Ignoring the hammering in his heart, he decided that in her current condition she wasn’t a threat. So, going against every instinct, he pulled the key from his pocket, watched as it slipped into the lock, felt his fingers twist until the iron fell to the floor with a loud crash. Then, before he could think any further, he scooped up the thick salve he’d made and applied it directly to the wound.
He had never once believed in Mother Gaia, or any other deity for that matter. But his next words whispered were a plea to anyone that would hear them.
“Please be okay.”
* * *
Sun filteredthrough the domed ceiling of the greenhouse, sweeping away the brutality of the night prior. Tallulah fought against waking, but the dryness of her mouth forced her to sit. She braced herself, waiting to feel the excruciating pain from her wound, but all she felt was a bit of a sting. Her wrists ached more than her arm, red angry lines marked her skin. But despite it, her breath came easier.
Her wrists were free.
Sliding her feet to the floor, she gasped as they landed not on the icy ground she was expecting but upon Evren. She tucked her feet back under herself, hoping she didn’t wake him.
His body sprawled across the stone ground next to the sofa. Her heart flipped, thinking he may jump up at any moment and relock that cursed iron around her wrists. But he didn’t. He simply rolled, rubbing at his eyes and the sleep that still lined them.
“I’m sorry,” Tallulah whispered.
Evren rolled himself up and smiled, softly. Her stomach dropped. Though the weary look on his face told Tallulah he wasn’t exactly pleased to be sleeping on the floor next to her, so she brushed the feeling aside.
“How’s your arm?” he asked, his voice flat.
He scratched a hand down his stubbled jaw, and she studied him for a moment, unsure what he was getting at. Not sure why, exactly, they were back here.
“Better than yesterday, but still painful,” she said. She kept her body still, not wanting to risk him realizing he had left her unshackled. “Why are you?—”
“So—”
Tallulah bit her lip as they spoke in unison.
“You first.” She gestured for him to continue. Not missing the way his eyes immediately went to her hands as she did so.
He stood, his frame blocked the sun momentarily as he towered over her. Tallulah had forgotten just how tall he was. She swallowed.
“So,” he started again, “the yarrow really works.” He pointed to her arm before taking a few steps backward, leaning against the greenhouse wall.
“It does.” Tallulah ran her hand over her shoulder, careful not to touch the stitches. Still sore and healing, but the pain was more manageable. It was only a temporary fix—the yarrow would wear and the true agony that hid underneath would come crashing back.
