Page 41 of The Edge of Darkness

I was startled as Maeson called out for us from the stairs. “Niall, Auren, we need you up here.”

“Go,” Aremis urged. “We’ll be here.”

Niall rose, clapping Aremis on his shoulder, and we headed for the stairs.

We entered the level above the main area, and Niall directed me down a long hallway that sat across from the corridor containing our bedchambers. Several orbs guided our way, moving steadily alongside us until we came to a large set of double doors. They opened upon our approach, and I didn’t know where to look first.

The room was well lit, with multiple decorative tapestries hanging from the walls, but my focus went to the two groups of healers that were stationed separately on either side of the chamber. One group surrounded Roirdan, who was propped up in a bed that looked much too small for him. The other group, and Morah, tended to Fallon, who was lying on a bed of his own. Wooden tables stacked with bottled herbs and elixirs of all sorts lined each bedside. Pestles and mortars were strewn about on both surfaces, while a steaming cauldron sat on Fallon’s table, wafting a strange, scented smoke into the air.

Maeson ushered us to Roirdan first.

“How is he?” I asked.

“Not good. The poison is spreading fast, and everything we’ve tried has failed to stop it. I can’t draw it out either. Whatever it is, it seems to have latched onto his veins.”

Roirdan groaned and shifted, as if talking about his affliction made it worse. I approached him and sucked in a breath at what I saw. His entire right arm had webs of black ink creeping underneath his tanned skin.

His jaw was clenched in pain as he opened his eyes to see us. “Remind me to never get near those fucking cats again,” he grunted.

I couldn’t help but let out a quick laugh. “Those were definitely not cats.”

“Looked like fucking cats,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut once more.

Niall shook his head, trying to hide his grin. He inspected Roirdan’s arm and raised a brow. “Does it hurt?”

Roirdan gritted his teeth and popped open an eye to shoot Niall a look. “What do you think?”

“I think it accents your shroud perfectly.”

Roirdan glared at him.

Niall laughed softly. “Just trying to lighten the mood.”

“Yeah I’m usually the one to do that, but whatever this is, it feels like it’s eating away at my insides.” He hissed again and looked down at where the venom was creeping along his veins toward his shoulder.

Niall’s shadows spooled out and danced over Roirdan’s arm, assessing for themselves as if they were sentient things. One tendril reached out, but when it touched his skin, it recoiled back.

“Fuck,” Niall said under his breath. “That shit’s vile.”

I leaned in to look at it up close.

The black lines that shot out from the tear in his flesh reminded me of the same inky blackness from the nightmare I had not too long ago.

“Maeson . . .” I said. “Didn’t you say that the Alatyr has protective properties?”

Maeson looked up at me. “Yes, but that was pertaining to the Elder that wears it.”

“Didn’t you also say that the wearer can use it to call for help using Old Magic?”

Her eyes danced, wondering where I was going with this. “Yes . . . but that would require an Elder.”

I twisted my mouth up to the side, thinking out loud to myself. “Worth trying, right?”

“Anything is worth trying at this point,” Roirdan answered through clenched teeth.

“Sorscha?” I called out.

The house-fae appeared, eager and willing to do my bidding.