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I calculate the exact portion needed to match what we did for Sigrid, and Gunnar begins pouring.
Meanwhile, I brew another concoction, this one with willow and magnolia bark, capsaicin, and a heavy dose of valerian.
When we’re finished, the three of us stare at each other for a long moment before bursting into laughter.
“You did it. This will work, I know it,” Gunnar says, clapping a hand on my shoulder.
“Let’s find out,” I say.
Most of the castle is asleep, but I imagine they won’t mind waking for this.
Helga meets Gunnar at the door, along with Sten and Gorm, the soldiers who regularly stood guard at Zaina’s doors. Gunnar explains what we need to do and shows them how to help carry some of the barrels. I’m not sure how long the substance will be stable, since we didn’t test it in bulk last time. We need to be quick about it, but also cautious.
Zaina is already hidden from view when I move to follow them. Thinking better of it, I tell them to go ahead without me.
“Is everything alright?” she asks, appearing from behind the armoire.
Walking toward her, I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her against me, meeting her mouth with my own. She melts into me, parting her lips to mine and deepening the kiss.
“Thank you,” I say when I finally pull away from her.
She looks up at me through her lashes.
“You’re welcome,” she says softly. “Now, go. I’ll watch from the passageway.”
I nod and turn to follow my trusted guards, not wanting to waste another second before we finally free my people.
Gunnar usesthe war horn to wake everyone in the castle. The warning sound hasn’t been heard in well over fifty years, not since my father warred with Corentin.
It isn’t long until the bustling of feet and the slamming of doors can be heard in the stairways.
Gunnar keeps the horn going until most of my people are gathered in the main hall. Many of them look frightened and worried. Some barely threw on robes over their nightclothes, while others grabbed axes or swords.
I motion for Gunnar to stop.
“What is all this about?” Odger makes his way forward, and not even the sight of him can ruin this for me.
I hold my hands up for silence, looking around the room. There are so many faces staring back at me, but not nearly as many as there should be.
“It’s been a long seventeen years,” I begin in a somber tone. “We have lost many along the way, including, most recently, our beloved Willem.”
A few gasps go out.
“There will be time to mourn them properly. A long time, as it were, because this curse ends today.” I raise my voice. “We finally have the cure for this plague that has ravaged our castle, our people, for too long. I am only sorry it did not come in time to save everyone.”
A few murmurs go through the crowd, tinged with awe and disbelief. Sigrid comes to the forefront, barking a command over their low tones. “Everyone, line up so that we can distribute this quickly.”
She forms two lines. One leads to the barrel Helga presides over, the medicine that will hopefully help mitigate the pain from the transformation, while Gunnar oversees the barrel with the cure.
We pour small amounts of each into two separate cups and caution them to wait until they are in bed to drink them. We want them to have a soft place to land, should the spasms rack their bodies the way they did Sigrid’s.
My people shake my hand or pat my shoulder as they pass, hope shining from their animalistic gazes for the first time in as long as I can remember. Except for one, which looks as disdainful as it always has.
“Odger?” I say quietly as he passes. “Don’t forget what we talked about. The moment you are back to your less appealing, weasel-like self, you will leave my castle and never return.”
I watch his hands grip the cups tighter, and his shoulders stiffen before he continues up the stairs to the West Wing for what I hope will be the last time.
Chapter Fifty-Two
