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First: neutralize poison. Second: remove bolt. Third: heal myself.
Though it was only three steps, it seemed like a lot more. I lifted jars of herbs with shaking hands and narrowed my eyes at the nearly unreadable labels. These had been a lot clearer earlier.
How freaking annoying was it to go to a bar only to get shot by a crossbow? It was ludicrous. Who used a crossbow? Fae.
“This is so stupid. I didn’t ask for any of this. I don’t even want her damned throne.” I scowled as I worked.
The man inched closer. His long black hair danced in the breeze that blew in between the boards over my windows. I would have to cover them with plastic once the temperatures dropped.
“Why aren’t we going to a healer?” the man asked as he hovered over me like I might collapse at any moment.
Honestly, it was a valid concern. I was racing the clock here.
Why hadn’t I trusted Vi? This would have been so much easier!
I dumped an unmeasured amount of herbs into my cauldron and prayed that this would turn out all right. It had to. I’d been doing this for years. My craft was fine tuned. I would be able to do this poisoned, blindfolded, and with one hand tied behind my back.
“Iamthe healer,” I told the fae man.
He jerked back, surprised. Of course, he was. He didn’t know anything about the life I’d been forced to live up until now. He didn’t know how I’d been trapped under the rule of a murderous shifter Alpha for most of my life. I’d been forced to adapt and survive.
The propane element under the cauldron clicked several times before flaring to life. Blue flames licked the bottom of the cast iron cauldron, and steam started to rise from within. Had this been a normal pot, it would have taken way longer. I’d seasoned—and enchanted—this cast iron contraption to work with the upmost speed.
“Whoareyou?” the fae man asked.
Feri weaseled his way out of my hair and onto the counter before puffing up and proudly announcing: “She is Princess Cerridwen Dawnlight of the fallen Seelie Court of Lakesedge.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the man’s face go white as a sheet. He looked like he’d seen a ghost the way he gaped at me.
“You can’t be. There’s no way.” He shook his head.
I smirked as the world wavered once again. “Why? Ashamed of what you said to me in the bar?”
The poison had worked its way into my system. I had had the barest moment left, but I kept up my attitude so that he wouldn’t notice. My ruse must have been awful because he quickly reached around me and grabbed the mug I’d been reaching for. He set it on the counter with ease.
At this point, I had to accept help. It wasn’t like I was trusting him to enter my body and root out the poison himself. I simply had to direct him around the kitchen. He quickly found my tea strainer and set it atop the mug.
This concoction was going to be hot, but there was no time to waste. A burnt tongue would be easy to heal later. Right now, I held my hand over the steaming mouth of the cauldron and waved it clockwise three times. My arcana bloomed within the belly of the cauldron. It danced with the herbs simmering within, unleashing their magical potential.
“Lift this—watch out, it will be hot! Lift this and pour it through the strainer.” I stepped back to let the man take ahold of the cauldron.
As he worked, he cast several prying glances in my direction. I wanted to know who he was. Feri said that he’d worked for the Seelie Court, and…my parents. I hated calling the Seelie king and queen my parents when they hadn’t raised me.
As soon as the man finished pouring the cauldron’s contents into the mug, I snatched the handle of the sieve and tapped it against the rim to get the last of the liquid out. The ceramic mug was warm in my other hand. It was almost too warm to handle, but there was little time to waste.
Hands suddenly weak, my grip on the mug slipped. The man caught it before it could crash and spill everywhere, but that put his broad chest against my back. It would have been hot had it not been for the bolt in my back that he jarred.
I hissed in pain. He gingerly slid away from the bolt still in my body, but he didn’t move away completely. He kept one hand beneath the mug and brought it up towards my lips.
“Sip,” he urged.
I started to tell him that I knew, but the words tangled on my swollen tongue. My throat started to cinch tight. Soon, I wouldn’t be able to swallow at all. I tried to lift the mug, but my fingers wouldn’t wrap around it. My muscles had no strength to close my hand let alone raise the antidote to my mouth.
I’d taken too long.
“Come on, now,” the man said softly.
He wound one arm around my lower back to keep me standing. With his other hand, he pushed the mug against my lips. I was able to open my mouth and gulp down the antidote. At first, I coughed and sputtered because it seared my lips and tongue. It soon cooled—that or I’d burned all the nerves away.
