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“Obviously.” I roll my eyes, a hint of sarcasm in my tone. “But how? Was it by the king’s hand?”
“No. From what I read, her husband was bitten by a Soulweaver. She was able to mend him before the Creature took full control of his vessel, but doing so sucked her dry. She didn’t realize her magic had left her until it was too late.”
“Oh God.” I cover my mouth with my hands. I can’t imagine not healing, not after everything I’ve been through. It’s my only assurance in this world. And for it to disappear without warning… a cold chill slithers down my spine.
“Most of what’s written here are her diary entries but you’ll notice, if you read it, there are some symptoms similar to the blood curse your friend is fighting too. There might be something useful in here.”
“I’ll read through it. Thank you. Who do the other journals belong to?”
Riot bites his cheek, fighting a wave of sadness that hits me harder than any other emotion I’ve sensed from him. “They were my friends.”
“Oh,” I say, recognizing the sensation of loss. “I’m sorry.”
“You have your reasons for being here, princess, and I have mine,” he adds, and a heavy silence falls between us. My stomach rumbles again, breaking the growing tension. “Lock the door. I’ll wait until I hear the click before leaving outside.”
My webs follow him without me asking. I do as he instructs and, to my surprise, Riot waits until he hears the click of the latch, and even a few moments after that, before descending down the hallway. I sit on the floor and spread the volumes out in front of me, absent-mindedly aware of where he is within the palace. My magic seems to like him.
As much as I wish it didn’t find comfort in his presence, I think I understand its reasoning.
I’m halfway through the mender, Aurelia’s, notes when I sense Riot in the hallway. Heat pools in my veins as my magic stirs for him. The sensation is jarring, especially when I realize my magic is not the only one excited to see the soldier. I unlock the door just before he can knock, his knuckles poised to rap against the wood.
“Your gift is scarily accurate,” Riot remarks, stepping inside and securing the door behind him again. “I wasn’t out there but for two seconds.”
“I know. I sensed you coming down the hall,” I say, a small tick of pride pooling in my chest. I’ve always had to hide my gifts. I saw what happened to Cerise when discovered, but it’s not the fear of death that made me keep my powers a secret. It was the worry of what would happen to the innocents around me and the dread of not being killed on sight but taken by the Crown that kept my lips shut. Openly talking about what I can do with someone is scary, yet exhilarating.
“How far do your abilities stretch?” he asks, curiosity evident in his eyes.
I shrug, not wanting to give Riot too much information. Although, he’s more knowledgeable about the Cerise culture than anyone I’ve met. I know I shouldn’t trust him. He’s a Hunter,and a member of the Crown’s guard, but he’s also the only person I know willing to talk about the unforgivables.
Mother dropped hints about her power when I was growing up but she never explicitly mentioned being a Cerise, or that I would become onetoo. I can't help but wonder if she wished I wouldn't, perhaps to spare me a life of fear.
Riot breaks the contemplative silence by setting a plate of shaved pork, biscuits, and beans on the table, along with a glass of water. “I tested the food myself,” he assures me. “And waited about ten minutes before I came back up, just to make sure nothing was wrong with it.”
“Was the plate pre-made?” I ask, meaning, was it waiting for someone to take it? Is it a trap carefully set to eliminate me like someone tried at the welcome ball?
He shakes his head. “No, everything was in separate containers in the fridge, leftover from last night’s dinner. Although, I had to slice the pork myself. You’re welcome, by the way.”
I shoot Riot a playful glare, a hint of irritation laced with gratitude for the unexpected friendship he’s extended the past few days. As I pick up a piece of the pork between my fingers and drop it into my mouth, the tension between us eases, if only momentarily.
“Find anything useful?” he asks, his gaze shifting between Aurelia's open book and my pad of notes beside it.
“Maybe. Aurelia's records were almost as detailed as my mom’s. I just wish I had Aisha’s journal to compare it to, to know what remedies she’s tried, too. Aurelia used many of the same herbs on her husband as Mom did with her patients but it doesn’t seem like Aurelia’s treatments worked.”
Riot takes the chair across from me, his expression turning more serious as he sits. “Did your mother’s?”
“I’m not sure. The longest we stayed in the villages we visited was three days. I don’t think she would have left if her patients were still sick but based on Aurelia’s recount of what happened to her husband, Mom’s herbs couldn’t have worked, not long term.”
Riot furrows his brow, contemplating the information. “I find it odd that a healer didn’t see her therapies through to completion. Why did you leave so quickly?”
“I don’t know,” I admit.
"Do you think she was running from something? Maybe even someone?"
I consider the possibilities and try to find a memory that could sway my answer, but I have nothing damning or reprieving.
"I guess it's possible. Mom said she left Divale because she fell in love. Sutherland said she was trying to escape an arranged marriage, and then Vidya made some weird comment the other night about my mom, Coralee, rolling in her grave if she knew I was in the castle. I asked if she and Coralee were friends, but Vidya said no. I think she knew her, or at least our family. Sutherland was strangely informal with her the night of the ball, too,” I say, then chew on my bottom lip. “I think I saw most of the herbs Mom’s listed in the atrium. I might try to collect them and make a tincture. If we can get it to Ezra, I can see if it clears his mind enough for us to head home.”
“It’s a big if,” Riot says nervously. “Especially if Aurelia’s tinctures didn’t work. Using your mom’s herbs is risky.”
