Chapter Three
A little over an hour after Aelys found her herb, Vil eased his shoulders down from his ears as he caught sight of the low stone wall ahead through the trees. At roughly knee height, it wasn’t much of a defensive barrier, but it did serve to mark the transition from wild forest to the lands tended by the villagers in…whatever nameless hamlet this happened to be. Vil couldn’t remember, although he was certain Aelys would know.
She was good about things like that: learning people’s names, treating them as if they mattered to her, regardless of their situation in life. He wondered sometimes if it was something she’d been trained to do, either as a daughter of a noble House, or as a student at the Lyceum Belli—the mage school where Aelys had spent ten years learning to be a Bellatrix.
Albeit an unconventional one, to be sure.
Long years of practice kept Vil’s expression blank and empty, but he smiled inwardly at the thought. Aelys had, indeed, graduated from the Lyceum and earned the title of Bellatrix, but none of the fighters also training at the Lyceum had chosen to be her protector, or Ageon. So, in what Vil figured was probably the first rebellious act of her entire life, Aelys had fled the Lyceum, alone and unprotected.
It had worked out about as well as one could have expected. Romik would certainly say that only the Red Lady’s own luck had caused Aelys to be chased by a group of bandits to the same inn where Vil and his brothers were drinking. Romik and Daen had saved her from those first bandits, and then—
Vil shivered, as he often did when he thought about what had happened after that. The bandits had come back, trapped them in the inn and set it alight. Once more, he tasted the grit of smoke on his breath and felt the searing heat pulsing down from the flames covering the ceiling overhead.
We were dead, he thought. Me, my brothers, Aelys. We were going to die together, but she saved us. She saved us with the power she claimed not to have. She saved us, and she made us hers.
For despite the fact that Aelys had intentionally freed them from the geas she’d accidentally laid on them that night, as far as Vil was concerned, nothing had changed. In the deepest core of his dark, shadowy soul, this one shining truth reigned: He and his brothers were irrevocably hers.
Next to him, Aelys caught her toes on a tree root and stumbled. Without thought, Vil whipped his hand out and caught her by the upper arm, preventing her from pitching forward onto her face.
“Oh!” she said, turning to him, her cheeks flushing the way they did when she was mortified. “How clumsy of me! I’m so—” She cut herself off and snapped her mouth closed as Vil lifted an eyebrow at her.
“Everything all right?” Romik asked, slowing his stride and looking back at them.
“Yes!” Aelys said. She sounded breathless, and Vil could see the tension in her arms and body as she clutched the straps of her knapsack. “I just tripped, but Vil caught me before I could fall.” She looked back at Vil. “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” he said, and forced his fingers to open so that she could step away.
Vil wasn’t a fool. He knew she thought he was just being laconic and flippant with his reply. But he absolutely meant it. Any time you stumble, Bella, any fall you take, no matter how minor…I will be there to catch you.
“I just saw the village and got excited and wasn’t watching where I stepped,” Aelys went on. “I know I’ll be able to help Mistress Barthon with these carvacra leaves. Carvacra tea has been effective in treating most fevers, and if I add in some of my willow bark extract—”
“Might do her more good if you actually brought the herbs to her,” Daen drawled behind them, his tone both bored and cutting. “Instead of just standing here chattering about them.”
“Oh! Right!” Aelys jumped, and the blush on her cheeks darkened. She took a deep breath and stepped toward Romik. “I’m fine,” she said. “Please, lead on.”
Vil narrowed his eyes at Daen, but his forester brother just shrugged and started walking again. Vil fell into step beside him.
“Feel better?” Vil asked.
“I’ll feel better when I’m sitting in front of a fire with food and an ale in front of me,” Daen muttered. “Like I said before she found her precious herbs, we’re all here to do a job, so let’s just fucking do it and get back to town.”
Vil’s eyebrows shot up at that. “You hate towns,” he said, his voice silky.
“Yeah, but I like food, and ale, and warm beds, and I don’t like following her all over these mountains tracking down some stupid leaves!”
“Strange sentiments for a forester. What would the Green Lady say if she heard you?”
“Fuck you, Vil.”
“Really? You think She likes me that much?”
Daen shot a glare at him, then snorted and rolled his eyes. Vil deepened a corner of his mouth and watched as the ghost of a smile curved his brother’s lips for just a moment before he shook his head.
Vil debated pushing harder—the anger at Aelys that simmered beneath Daen’s skin was going to be a problem soon—but he left off as Aelys led them confidently back to Mistress Barthon’s house. Once again, his brothers took up positions near the door, and he slipped inside with Aelys.
Naturally, he kept one eye on Aelys the entire time she worked, so he saw as she took the fresh carvacra leaves from her pack and held them in her hands while whispering strange words. He held himself still, hoping to feel something—even the slightest tingle indicating that a link still existed between his energy and hers.
But he felt nothing, not even when the leaves withered and dried, cracking into fragments in her hands. He watched her briskly crumble them into the small mortar she carried.
“How did that feel?” he asked quietly. Aelys glanced up at him, her eyes widening a fraction.
“Did you feel it?” she asked, alarm threading through her tone. He was tempted to lie, just to see what she would do.
“No,” he admitted. “I just saw you dry them out and figured you were using power. How did it feel? Much of a drain?”
“No,” she said with a bright, sudden smile. “It’s a relatively simple spell to dry them out. And even…well. No. Hardly any drain at all, even with performing the seeking spell earlier.”
“Sounds like good news,” Vil said, keeping his tone and his face as positive as possible.
“I think it is,” Aelys said. “I almost feel like I’m growing stronger—” she cut herself off as the girl ran in from the garden entrance.
“Ye’re back!” she gasped. “I was afraid—”
“I told you I would do my best,” Aelys said with a gentle smile. “Come here, you should learn how to do this.”
Vil eased back against the wall, keeping one eye on the pot with the water as Aelys showed the girl how to add this new herb to the ginger and meadowsweet. Apparently, those ingredients didn’t need to be dried, because she didn’t repeat her spell in front of the girl. Instead, she worked with her to tie the herbs into a sachet, which she placed in a cup. Then she poured the boiling water over it and set it to steep.
“Now,” Aelys said, once this was done. “Do you have a neighbor or family member helping with the washing while your mother is ill?”
“Yes,” the girl said. “Mistress Larrene, two doors down. She’s caring for my little brother, too.”
“That’s kind of her,” Aelys said.
“She’s Jenla’s ma.” The girl gave her a small smile. “Jenla’s my best friend.”
Aelys smiled back. “A best girl friend is a real treasure,” she said, and Vil didn’t miss the sad note under her words. “Why don’t you go see her now? Take this pile of bedclothes—it was smart of you to change them before I came back—and maybe get something to eat. Take a little break and come back in a few hours. We should know if the tea has helped by then.”
“Yes, demoi—Bella,” the girl said, her eyes flicking to Aelys’s necklace as she bobbed an approximation of a curtsy. Then she gathered up the washing and left through the back door, leaving Vil and Aelys alone with the patient once again.
“Poor child,” Aelys said. “She’s so young to have so much responsibility.”
Vil shrugged. “I was living on my own at her age, and you were already at the Lyceum. Children have to grow up fast if they’re to survive, Bella. That’s the way of the world.”
Aelys nodded, then shook herself and turned back to the tea. “I want to try something,” she said. “It’s part of why I sent her out. I want to infuse this brew with some of my power. I’ve been reading about how artificers work and…I think it will help.”
“Maybe,” Vil said. “But it won’t help when the girl makes her own brew after you’re gone.”
“No,” Aelys said. “It won’t. But if I can boost the active ingredients enough to just break the fever’s grip—”
“Did they teach you to do this at the Lyceum?”
Aelys blinked, and for the first time since entering the house, bit her lip and glanced down at her feet, her shoulders hunching inward.
“No,” she admitted. “It’s just…something I thought of. I got the idea from the grimoire we found.”
“In that underground mage’s study where we found my daggers?” Vil’s fingers traced over the hilts of the two daggers he wore on his belt. He had other knives stashed on his person, of course, but he kept Pure and Profane sheathed out in the open, despite the bright aquamarine that glinted in each hilt. Like the other weapons they’d found, Vil’s daggers had magical properties. Properties which, thankfully, hadn’t faded when Aelys released them from the bond that had made the daggers work in the first place.
“Yes. You remember he was an artificer? Once I was able to really sit down and work on my translation, I realized that a key component of artificing is not only imbuing the finished object with the ability to perform a single spell, but that one also had to feed power into the component raw materials. And so, I thought if artificers can push power into metal and stone and wood, why couldn’t I push it into herbs? Wood is just plant material, after all, and so are herbs! I just…If I do nothing, she’s going to die, Vil. I have to try.”
“Have you discussed this with Sabetha?”
“No, I just thought of it today. But I will have to after this. If this works like I think it will, then she will need to be aware. This could revolutionize what we know about herbal remedies.” Aelys took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and turned back to the tea. She tested its temperature with her little finger, and then nodded. “Vil,” she said softly. “Will you help me lift her again?”
You don’t even need to ask, Vil thought. But he just nodded and crossed the small room to the sick woman’s bedside. Carefully, he and Aelys helped her sit up, and then he eased behind the woman, holding her in a semirecumbent position. As before, heat radiated off her thin, wasted frame, and Vil wondered how long she’d been ill.
“Mistress Barthon,” Aelys said softly. “I’ve made something different I’d like you to try, all right? It should help reduce your fever. Can you drink it for me?”
“Y-yes.” Mistress Barthon’s broken whisper came so faintly through her cracked lips that Vil didn’t think he would have heard her if he hadn’t been holding her up.
“All right, this should be cool enough now. I’m just going to hold this tea for you—” Aelys lifted the cup to Mistress Barthon’s lips. Together, the three of them managed to get most of the liquid into the woman’s mouth, though some did dribble down her chin to stain the thin shift she wore.
“There we go,” Aelys said when they’d finished. “You did very well. Vil and I will let you rest now, all right?”
“Kora?” Mistress Barthon croaked as Vil eased out from behind her and slowly lowered her down to rest on the pillow.
“Is Kora your daughter?” Aelys asked softly. “She’s gone to take the washing to your neighbor’s house. Mistress Larrene’s house. She will be back shortly.”
“Good…girl.”
“She certainly seemed it. Very bright, too. Vil and I shall stay with you awhile to monitor your condition. If the tea helps, I will teach her the recipe.” Aelys explained all of this while her hands flew through quick, efficient movements to clean up her tools and ingredients on the beside table.
“She’s fallen back to sleep, Bella,” Vil said. Aelys let out a sigh.
“It’s just as well,” she said. “Her body is working incredibly hard to break this fever. May the Mother of Magic grant that we’re able to help her do that.”
“When will you know if it worked?”
Aelys shrugged and arched her back in a stretch as she let out a sigh. “If she doesn’t throw the tea up, that will be the first sign. Then, we could see improvement in as little as an hour. Though it may take longer. I truly don’t know, this is uncharted territory.”
Vil nodded and crossed back to lean into the corner of the wall where he’d stood before. The truth was that waiting didn’t bother him. This was what they’d come here to do, after all. Sabetha had told them this woman was a difficult case, and that the village had offered Sabetha a tidy sum if she could be helped. Apparently she was some kind of fancy lacemaker or something, and Sabetha traded her wares for exorbitant amounts in larger cities further down the imperial road.
As he waited, Vil watched Aelys, noting the way she moved, the way the afternoon light fell through the tiny window to shine in her blonde hair. He imagined his fingers combing through those strands, pulling gently to tilt her head backward so that he could run his lips under her jaw—
Aelys shivered. Shock jolted through Vil, and he fought to hold himself still.
She didn’t feel that, did she? She broke the geas, she couldn’t have felt that…could she?
Before Aelys had severed the accidental geas she’d laid upon Vil and his brothers, they had been able to push energy into her system by thinking about her. The more focused the thoughts, the stronger the energy surge, until she described it as a river of power pouring in for her to use. She could even push the power back to them, enhancing their natural gifts in the process.
It had filled him with sensation every time she’d done it, bringing his body to ecstasy and binding his psyche closer to hers. It had been addictive, and when she’d set them free, she’d cut them off from her thoughts, her energy, her power.
Vil wanted it back. He wanted her back.
And he intended to get what he wanted.