Page 2 of Beast and Remedy (The Last of the Heirs #2)
Marian steals a piece and chews, her jaw, too, straining. “Nothing but prepping for the party. Oh! I also went out and found another animal to help.”
I arch a brow. “You did?”
She nods and angles her head toward the large storage closet.
I open the door, admiring how the wooden bookshelves were reorganized and shifted higher to accommodate the large metal cage. Inside were woolen blankets, a wide bowl filled with water, and a plate with nothing on it, nestled around a wheezing wolf.
My stomach sinks.
When I inherited this magic, Marian believed there was more to my ability I should explore. She said my gifts and knowledge could work together and thus began an attempt to discover ways to eliminate pain from my shifting.
Yet when we ventured into the woods to store clothing in hidden crevices after my first shift, we found a wounded rabbit, and my heart broke into a million pieces.
I’ll never forget the pull of my magic, desperate to help the poor creature despite being in my human form. And so, in addition to trying out tonics, I started giving injured and sickly animals medical attention.
“How long?” I ask, muscle memory kicking in as I inspect the wolf for injuries, careful not to rouse it.
Marian’s footsteps come up and she squats. “Two days ago. Its leg was caught in a trap and covered in blood. I freed it, but it collapsed as soon as I helped. So, I used my watering can, cleaned it up, and brought it here with Papa preoccupied.”
How to help animals beyond my bear form is a war I fight in my mind constantly .
The pull of magic summoned me to the woods, keeping me from my own desires to be in my private reading escape.
But protectiveness, something I only considered with my loved ones, overcame me when I saw animals in need. Even when I didn’t want anything more to do with the forest after a shift and needed to focus on how to help my own pain.
“Has it eaten? Had any water?” I ask, running through questions to find symptoms and search for the right treatments to solve the root cause.
I’ve swept through hundreds of books in my lifetime, keeping journals on subjects which always fascinated me. Most were of healers documenting and journaling everything about man and creature.
And to this day, I can’t help the warm feeling I still get, my craving for knowledge aiding me in helping animals as well.
But your knowledge hasn’t aided in helping yourself, Vi. Silly girl. Thinking books will solve all her problems.
Marian’s voice pulls me from my thoughts .
“Not really. I even snuck some raw meat, and that barely was enough to draw it into consciousness.” She reaches forward and brushes its black-and-white fur. “It was friendlier than I expected it to be.”
A long exhale rises and falls from the wolf’s chest and ice-cold bright blue eyes meet my sister and me.
Marian’s breath catches and she pulls her hand away.
I place mine down on the beast. “It’s alright, we are here to help,” I coo, reaching deep into my chest, seeking out my gifts to nurture and convey tenderness.
The wolf blinks once, and I relax, grateful for my magic’s tether to creatures. It’s not a full way of communication but a way to invoke empathy and understanding.
“That never ceases to amaze me,” Marian confesses.
I point to one of the bookshelves. “Can you get me the empty vial on the far left?”
She moves without complaint. “What are you going to put in it?”
I ease up to my full height and twist to Marian offering me the bottle. “A healing salve. Something standard to help reduce inflammation and prevent infection. But I’ll want to give it a pain tonic for the injury later this evening to progress the healing as it rests.”
“Right.”
Turning toward the center of the room, I walk to the stretched-out table.
The afternoon light shines through a window, illuminating each of the small, closed bottles organized in sections of plants, poisons, herbs, blood, spices, tree barks, and liquids varying from water, ale, and wine.
I pride myself every time I lay eyes on it. All gathered and collected by Marian and me, all from the vast number of books I’ve read.
Drawing from a memorized recipe, I reach for a few herbs, adding and combining the contents in a small bowl.
Marian shuffles behind me, but I pay her no attention, working best in the silence.
I grind the ingredients, ticking through each mental note for what is needed, and what to try for the next tonic, the next tea, the next something for reducing my own pain.
I pull a sample of ale from the section of labeled liquids above me and blend it in with a precious amount of honey, an ingredient I discovered on our last trip to Palaena. It’s extremely useful and hard to come by.
A little goes a long way , I remind myself as I take a small dollop of the nectar and mix it in.
Once I find the medicine mixed to my liking and the paste is sticky and spreadable, I turn, smiling at Marian.
She holds a fresh set of bandages for the wolf, and my heart sings at the bond and rhythm we have always shared.
“Salve now and then a dose of a pain tonic before and during our name day party to be on the safe side,” I say.
“You’ll do anything to avoid being there longer than needed,” she quips as we kneel, and she opens the cage.
The animal looks between us, wheezing.
I halt, remembering another plant for the wolf’s breathing, and hurry to the vials. Taking the datura, I add a small pinch into the mixture, careful to have a speckle of it before wiping the spoon of medicine across my palm.
My sister’s nose wrinkles with skepticism, and I shrug.
Lowering to the cage’s opening, I extend my hand, summoning a flicker of magic in case the animal needs more coaxing.
The creature twitches, sniffing before licking the honeyed medicine, leaving a stickiness along my skin. The wolf’s tongue darts out, cleaning its snout and blinking.
I huff a laugh. “See? How can I enjoy a party when I have this cute critter begging for company?”
“It is cute.” Marian carefully helps undo the bandaging from the injured leg. “But the party will also have cute things,” she teases with a mischievous wink.
We snicker as I apply the salve, shrinking inside.
I know she implies a good time, but I can’t stop the twinge of the yearning—the longing—the pain settling deep in my gut from the only cute person I can think of.
And how they are far away in another kingdom, forbidden from ever seeing me.