Page 17

Maerhal tilted her head and squeezed my hand. “Your mother made the same for you.”

I wrinkled my nose, eyes suddenly itchy. “I don’t remember.”

Maerhal frowned. “I am not your mother, but I know how grateful I am to my sister and Feron for loving Miiran like their own son. I think Ravaa would want the same for you.” She squeezed my hand. “If you would let me.”

I wiped my eyes. “You might come to regret that offer.”

Maerhal laughed in her singsong way and nodded. She opened her mouth but then a figure appeared at the entrance of the tunnel.

It was the first time I’d ever seen Rheih Talonseer show the tiniest bit of surprise. Her yellow eyes immediately fell on the still full wineskin in my chair. “Didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said gruffly, putting down her bunch of flowers and weeds on the table in the middle of the room. She started stuffing petals and clippings into glass jars with labels too small for my eyes to read from Maerhal’s bedside.

“Your burl is ready whenever you don’t want unexpected visitors.” Rheih raised a brow at Maerhal. I got the sense this was a nightly conversation.

Maerhal scrunched her nose like a disgruntled cat at the large faelights hovering over the Mage’s shoulders. She jumped down from the bed and walked out the door, waving her hand in slow circles above her head as a farewell.

“The sunlight still hurts her eyes,” Rheih explained with a shrug.

“Why are you here so late?” I glanced across the empty beds.

Rheih clucked her tongue. “It seems the other healers can’t find the right mixture so I am trying.”

I froze. “Is someone hurt?”

Rheih shook her head and grabbed a small marble bowl to crush three sprigs. “Killian’s friend is sick. He hasn’t been able to keep food down for weeks. He barely sleeps.”

The blood from my face drained. I had no idea someone had been sick for that long, let alone someone close to Killian. “Who?”

Rheih shrugged. “I remember elixirs not names.”

I ran through a list of faces in my mind, but I hadn’t made a point to be good with names either.

“The blond one,” Rheih grunted trying to open a sealed jar with her bent, spotted fingers.

I grabbed the jar from her hand. “Collin?” I asked with a resoundingpopfrom the lid.

Rheih snapped her fingers for me to hand it back. “Yes. The Halfling.”

“He’s ill?” I placed the jar on the table. Rheih stuffed her hand inside and pulled out three jellied eggs. “How long?”

Rheih shrugged. “Long enough to call me back.”

My stomach tightened. “Wouldn’t it be quicker if I heal him?”

Rheih snorted. When she realized I hadn’t been asking in jest she shooed me away from her table.

“Your gift is a powerful one, but often useless.” Rheih took a loud sip from her tea. Her yellow eyes watched me daringly over the rim.

“Useless?” I balked. “It’s saved my life. It saved Vrail and Gwyn.”

Rheih rolled her eyes. “No need to squeal like a kettle. I saidoftennotalways.”

I shook my head in disbelief. Rheih had a gift for getting under my skin.

She pointed to her bowl. “Do you know what any of this is?”

I crossed my arms smugly. “Fish eggs, dew root weed, red clay, and honey pool petals.”

“Wrong.”