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“Not in the mood, Red,” Carnon growled behind me, smacking my rear to get me moving. “Move!”
Akela had to stay behind, whining piteously as we left him on the forest floor. I climbed, the rope ladder swaying ominously as Carnon ascended behind me. At least if I fell, I was fairly certain he’d try to catch me, but better not to fall if I could help it. A ladder was easier than a tree, but the fact that I was climbing fifty feet in the air with nothing bracing the ladder was terrifying. My palms were clammy and my heart racing by the time I made it to the top and hauled myself onto the elevated platform.
“Yet another thing you need to practice,” Carnon said, climbing nimbly up behind me using only one hand. I supposed having grown up in this city, climbing must be somewhat second nature to him. “Quickly, Elara.”
“Not our room,” I shouted as I ran behind Carnon, mentally cataloging the herbs I would need for healing. “The kitchens.”
Carnon veered to the right, trusting my judgment unquestioningly. I didn’t have time to enjoy the notion as I skidded to a stop at the kitchens and began digging around in the produce, to the great surprise of the humans and demons working there.
“I need a mortar and pestle!” I shouted to no one in particular as I found ginger and garlic and turmeric. The spell would be better with a few more herbs, but since I couldn’t find any others, I would have to make do. “And boiling water and clean cloths and a needle and thread.”
Carnon barked orders behind me as he carefully laid the strix on an empty table, sending someone off to find bandages. I ground the elements into a paste, whispering every healing incantation I could remember over the bowl. Just in case, I focused my intention, too. Twice I had been able to cast witch spells with intention alone, and if the demon magic gave me an edge that way, I would use it.
Carnon stood beside me, looking anxious as I put down the bowl and stroked Artemis’ head in comfort.
“Don’t worry, Artemis,” I said, using my most soothing voice. There was a small pouch tied to one of her legs, and I yanked it off her, stuffing it in my pocket as she gave a weak little hoot. “This will fix you right up. Carnon,” I said, turning to my mate, who gave me a wild, desperate look. “Can you hold her head?”
He nodded, steadying Artemis’ head between his large hands. I cleaned Artemis up as much as I could, trying not to hurt her as I tended to her cuts. The gash down her torso was the most worrisome, and it would need to be stitched.
“Hold her still,” I commanded, threading the needle clumsily. I had seen Mama do this a few times for injuries that were too deep to close magically, and I prayed I didn’t hurt Artemis more.
She squawked painfully at the first poke of the needle, clamping her sharp beak down on Carnon’s finger. He hissed, and I saw a silvery glow curl around the injury, his own healing magic trying to close the wound. Artemis held tightly.
“Quickly, Red,” Carnon grunted, “or she’ll have my finger off.”
I worked fast, stitching the wound inexpertly until the worst of it was closed. Then I spread the mashed ingredients, now a paste, over her clean wounds, whispering soothing words and prayers to the Goddess while I worked.
Artemis unclamped her beak as I began to bandage the wounds, letting out a weak hoot of protest. Carnon cradled her lovingly, hissing each time I had to move a particularly injured part of a wing to wrap her up.
“That’s not helping,” I chastised, pouring boiling water into the bowl with the remains of the paste and stirring it up. “She needs to drink this. A spoon, maybe?”
Carnon nodded, tight-lipped and tense as I handed him the mixture and a spoon, and he reverently dribbled the mixture into Artemis’ beak.
“That’s all I can do I’m afraid,” I said, wiping my hands, which smelled strongly of garlic, on my trousers. “She needs rest now.”
“Have I told you how amazing you are?” Carnon asked quietly, looking up at me with silver rimming his eyes.
I smiled weakly, kneeling before him and pressing my forehead to his in comfort. “Only a few times,” I whispered. “Let’s get her settled in our room.”
Carnon nodded, face still strained as he carried Artemis back to our room. She appeared to be asleep, her beak tucked under a batlike wing, but I wasn’t sure if it was truly sleep or if she had lost consciousness from her injuries.
I wasn’t sure what would happen if Artemis died. She had been Carnon’s loyal guard since he was born, bound to him in a way I didn’t understand yet. Would he no longer be the Demon King without the strix? Would another bond with him instead? I didn’t want to consider it, hoping that my spells would be enough to quicken the healing process.
Carnon placed Artemis in our bed, tucking her up in the blankets and stroking her head lightly. While he fussed over her, I pulled out the pouch that had been tied to her leg, turning it over in my hands. It was small, made of leather, and there was something firm inside.
“Carnon,” I said, sitting down beside him on the edge of the bed. “She was carrying this.”
I handed him the pouch, and he frowned at it, examining it before loosening the ties. He tipped the contents into his hand, and I felt the blood drain from my face.
A severed finger sat in his palm, roughly the same size as my pinkie finger. There was a piece of parchment wrapped around it, and Carnon unrolled it gingerly.
She loses one each week that I have to wait for you.
“Oh gods,” I cried, covering my mouth and stifling a gag. “Holy Goddess above. It’s Mama’s.”
Chapter 24
Carnon had to talk me down, convincing me it was madness to ride off toward Oneiros right at that moment. It was late afternoon, and it had begun to pour. I was barely a strong enough rider to stay on a horse in the best weather, and I’d need to ride alone if we were to move fast enough.
