“Like a…potion or something?” I wring my hands. “I don’t know the right word.”
The alarm on Morgan’s face hasn’t faded. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”
“No, no, I’m fine,” I say quickly. “I just, um…” I glance at the door. Callahan’s out there, but probably can’t hear us.
Probably.
She relaxes a little, recognition dawning. “Oh. Wait. Is this for Kingston?”
I frown and shake my head. “No.” I pause. “Why?”
“Oh, because…” She shrugs. “I make him tonics from time to time. Real delicate flower, that one. Always has been. Bumps and bruises and whatnot. And my stuff doesn’t show up in a piss test, which was handy for him back in the junior circuit.”
A memory sparks in my mind. My first day on campus—the first time I met Morgan, and the second time I met Kingston.
To my own surprise, I laugh.
Morgan gives her head a little shake. “What?”
“Nothing,” I say, “just…when I first met you, and Kingston came to our room?” Morgan nods. “I thought you were, like, his dealer or something.”
“Oh my God.” Morgan cackles, throwing her head back. “That’sperfect. Goddess, I’d make a pretty slick drug kingpin, right?” She ruffles her hair. “Anyway, nah. It’s just a healing tonic, nothing scandalous. Just trying to take care of stepbrother dear.” She makes a face.
“Right.” I press my lips together.
Morgan doesn’t go back to her reading. “And?” she prompts. “What are you asking me to brew up, exactly?”
I breathe in.
“It’s…Kai,” I explain, lowering my voice. “He…I was in the salle with him the other day and I saw he was pretty beat up.”
“Ah.” Morgan relaxes a bit. “Well, it’s a contact sport.”
So I’ve heard, I think. For a moment, I consider telling her what I really saw.
But for whatever reason, I decide not to.
“You ever have someone ram a saber into your shoulder?” Morgan goes on. “Because I have—Kai, shockingly—and that shit hurts.” She winces, rubbing her arm as if the injury is fresh. “They should get used to it.”
“Yeah,” is all I say. “But you know him. He’s not going to ask for help, and…”
And I guess it’s my job to give it to him?
I don’t know what I’m thinking. This was a stupid thing to ask.
But Morgan purses her lips. “This is not my problem,” she declares, getting to her feet. “Or yours.” She picks her way to her dresser and starts rummaging through the heap of stuff on top, shoving little vials and boxes and drawstring bags this way and that, muttering under her breath.
“Salve,” she says at last, holding out a small tin. No label. “The nine herbs charm. Mugwort, lamb’s cress, betony, fennel…I forget what else. Nine of them.” She waves a hand. “It smells like the mouth of hell, but it’ll work.”
“Thanks.” I spin it around slowly in my fingers.
“Mhm.” Morgan nods, eyeing me. “It’s nice of you to look out for them, Gwenna.”
I don’t know what to say to that. Not sure what she means by it, exactly.
“But?” I prompt.
“But nothing.” Morgan tips her head. “I just hope they earned it, is all.”
