Because this is not natural threvenar. This is not the native Zerynthian threvenar she has grown up using and extracting.
Breaths rush in and out in ragged pants, recognition landing like a warhammer in her mind.
This behavior is impossible under normal conditions.
So these are not normal conditions.
She moves.
Fast and efficient despite her theory.
She reaches for detoxifying powders from the back wall, striding swiftly back and forth between the wall and workbench to drop the samples with a heavy clatter against the surface.
She places empty sampling dishes before them, and places a pinch of threvenar in each dish.
She moves to each bowl of powder, and adds a dusting atop the threvenar.
Moonleaf.
Bitterthorn.
White marrow bark.
River nettle.
Salt reed extract.
Lungwort.
She needs to see it again.
Needs to convince herself she’s wrong.
The powders sit atop the threvenar.
One heartbeat.
Two.
Nothing.
Three.
Fou—
Movement.
They separate.
Detoxifying herbs move away from the threvenar.
Repelled. Repulsed. Rejected.
Holy fucking Stars.
The problem isn’t the binders.
It’s the threvenar.
