The healer’s ash-brown hair was swept into a high bun, streaked with two silver strands that caught the light atop her head. Her tall frame was draped in a sage-green robe that all the other healers wore.
She visited him at least twice a day, probing with her hands first before turning to other instruments that allowed her to peer inside his body.
A glance at Joy made my mouth twitch. My younger sister never failed to grimace at Hildegard’s ministrations, as though the woman were mad.
“He remains stable, and there are still no changes today,” Hildegard said. “He must continue resting.”
I murmured my thanks.
Reagan and Finn used that as their cue, stepping into the infirmary, voices low as they exchanged murmurs by the doorway.
“I understand you have an exam today as well,” Hildegard said, gesturing for us to follow.
The room she led us to was bright and clinical. A tall, white chair dominated its centre, wide-armed and elevated by a step. Joy froze at the threshold.
“You are here for a blood exam to determine if there is any trace of mana in your system,” Hildegard explained. “Certain components can reveal themselves in the sample. We’ll repeat the test a few times, and the average will indicate the density of your access relative to your body weight. Do you have any questions?”
Joy edged sideways, weight rocking between her legs. “Do we have to?”
“Yes, it’s necessary,” Reagan said steadily but not coldly.
“I’ll go first,” I told her, turning to Hildegard. “You just draw the blood?”
“Exactly,” she replied, motioning toward the chair. “I will ask you to hold the sanguinite in your hand and keep it closed. You should feel some warmth, but not much.” Hildegard produced a sand-coloured gemstone, its edges veined with white lines.
“What is this for?” I asked.
“It acts as a conduit,” she explained, sliding the gemstone into my palm. “It helps channel mana from your access and into your veins so we can measure it during the exam.”
As she moved toward her table, I took in Joy’s wary gaze studying the room, Finn leaning casually against the wall, and Reagan approaching my chair with his hands in his pockets.
“Is this one like your heartstone?” I asked him, lifting the gemstone.
He inclined his head. “Yes and no. Veinstones are not the same as heartstones. Sanguinite is a veinstone, and it doesn’t store mana, just channels it if you cannot wield it yourself yet.”
It always did appear as though his power coursed through his veins, brightened beneath his skin. Interesting that my assumption wasn’t too far off.
My eyes levelled with his chest, where a heartstone had rested for seven years, the tether that had turned ivory and testified to his good nature. I found myself looking at the one in my hand and wondering where it had come from, whether mined within Mountheim’s lands or imported from other regions so Hildegard could use it.
Reagan’s eyes shifted to my hand. “You have to remove your ring.”
Right. I slipped it off, ready to hold it myself, but he extended a hand as if to take it. “It’s better if it’s away from you.”
“Yes, please give him your relic,” Hildegard said. “If it’s not a problem, I recommend not using it anymore. Rune relics can leave lasting effects in your system.”
“It’s not natural to use them for such a long time,” Reagan added.
“Right, it’s not a problem,” I murmured. “I won’t wear it, but I want to keep it.”
My mother had left it to me and Joy, and that alone raised a litany of questions in my mind.
“Ready?” Hildegard asked, holding a common syringe in one hand.
With my consent, she positioned my arm and sprayed a cold, metallic-scented mist from a small bottle. The crook of my elbow tingled, and she slipped in the needle.
“Done.” Hildegard poured my blood into a small case attached to the chair, then carried it to her desk. Not even a single drop remained on my arm.
Shouldn’t I have felt something? Aside from the scent and the tingling, nothing.
