Page 15 of Bitten & Burned

Six

EXASPERATION IN INK

Kravenspire, Sol, Verdune

I awoke in my rooms once more, Fig jumping around at the bottom of the bed, playing with my feet as I stretched beneath the blankets.

Sometimes I swore he could sense the warping of my magic—his phoeline blood was tied to Inera’s moon, after all—and he batted at me most on mornings when the sigil felt especially heavy.

I slid them out of the blankets to rest on the floor. I went out to the sitting room, surprised to see something on a silver tray near the door. Three envelopes. Two were white, non-descript. The other was green parchment, dotted with wildflower seeds; undoubtedly from Thalia.

I brought them over to a chair, pulling my legs up with me, turning over the envelopes in my hands. The two nondescript ones had Silas’s return address at the Arcanum of Caer Voss. Frowning, I felt both of them; they must be important, if he’d sent them so close together.

I opened those first.

The first one, postdated exactly one week before, the day after I’d left Caer Voss for Halemont.

My dearest Rowena,

I trust this letter finds you well enough, though I worry about your sudden absence from Caer Voss. The City feels emptier without your quiet diligence—I’ve had to remind myself more than once that you are not just down the road at Blackthorn, lost among your books.

I hope you have found what you needed in your…current company. I trust they are treating you with the gentleness your condition demands. I would hate to think of you in pain, or worse, misunderstood.

I do wonder if you’ve been alright since you left.

I know the trip wasn’t long, but it was strenuous, up the mountainside.

I hope you won’t need your amulet cleansed again before you return.

No one understands the nature of your affliction better than I do.

It pains me that you have let strangers shoulder a burden I was prepared to carry for you.

Should you wish to return, or even write, you know how to reach me. I remain, as ever,

Yours,

—S.D.

I frowned. What burden was he referring to? The treatment of my condition? Gods, I hoped I hadn’t given him the impression that he was the only relief I got. I’d have to write him and set him straight.

The next letter was about the same size and heft, but was postmarked two days after the previous letter.

Rowena,

Forgive the intrusion of another note so soon, but I find myself unsettled after sending my last. There is something I neglected to mention.

I’ve come across a fragment in one of our older folios—you may recall the Grieves Manuscript you transcribed last winter.

There are passages there that may illuminate the root cause of your present difficulties.

Of course, the work is incomplete without your eye for detail.

No one could be trusted with this but you.

If you wish, I will have the pages prepared and sent under guard. Or perhaps you would prefer to come yourself and work here in privacy, as you once did. You know I would see to it you were not disturbed.

Please do not let pride or misplaced loyalty keep you from what you do best. There is no shame in turning to your mentor when the road ahead grows dark.

I await your reply.

— S.D.

Intriguing, to be certain. I would include in my return letter that he should send them by courier. It would be something I could do while I was here.

The last letter was indeed from Thalia. I opened it last, savoring the lavender and sage scent that wafted up from the paper within.

Rowena,

I hope this finds you well and that Halemont is treating you more kindly than the city ever did. You’ve been on my mind. I keep picturing you in those echoing halls, getting lost, poking your nose where you shouldn’t.

When you have a moment, could you ask your vampire or any of his covenmates if they know anything about bloodroot?

I’ve come across a few references in old herbal records, but nothing solid.

It feels like something that shouldn’t be overlooked, and you’re always better at piecing these things together than I am.

Write me back when you can. And, if you’re miserable, come home for tea. The kettle’s always on.

— Thalia

Bloodroot? I’d heard of it before, but not in any old herbal records. More like whispered under the hush of darkness in the library at Blackthorn as students discussed whether or not to acquire some to help them study for their future tests.

As far as I could tell, it wasn’t an illicit or controlled substance, but I thought it should be. I’d have to ask Vael if he’d heard anything about it the next chance I got.

After refolding all my letters, I headed downstairs for breakfast. I could smell it from here. Anton was cooking up something delicious.

Anton was at the stove, sleeves rolled, hair slightly mussed in a way that made him look more like a decadent noble on holiday than a man cooking breakfast. The table was already set, steam curling from a pot of rich, dark coffee.

“Morning, darling,” he said without glancing up. “You’re just in time. Sit.”

I slid into a chair, watching the way he moved—precise, practiced, yet indulgent, like each motion was for his own pleasure as much as mine. The rich scent of butter and citrus clung to the air, making my stomach growl. “You’re awfully cheerful for someone who doesn’t have to eat breakfast.”

“I might not have to, but I prefer to,” he replied, plating something golden and fragrant in front of me before setting his own across from mine. “Pleasure and necessity aren’t the same thing. One I indulge far more often than the other.”

He joined me at the table, slicing into his own pastry with an elegance that made me feel like the uncivilized one. I took a bite—flaky, buttery, with a hint of orange zest—and sighed.

“I wanted to ask you something. My friend, Thalia, an apothecary in Caer Voss, wrote and asked me about bloodroot. I only know it as something students use to enhance their academic prowess. What do you know about it?”

Anton’s fork paused just above his plate. “Bloodroot?” The word was careful, deliberate. “It’s not common. Old, potent. Most keep clear of it unless they’re after something very particular. A shame it’s found its way into recreational arenas.”

“What sort of particular?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Depends on the hands it’s in. It can heal, or it can harm. And sometimes it’s used for things that sit between the two. Why does she ask? Is it so widespread it’s become concerning?”

Before I could answer, the door creaked and Vael’s voice slipped into the room like silk.

“Good morning,” he said, moving to pour himself coffee without waiting for an invitation.

“Vael, what do you know about bloodroot?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Thalia wrote and asked me, wanted me to speak to you.” I included all of the vampires in that statement.

He paused slightly, finishing his coffee pour before answering. “I know about the students using it at Blackthorn, although I advised many against it. Logic would have me believe if it’s showing up as a University drug, its use is becoming more widespread.”

“Concerning,” Anton said.

“It’s largely harmless, so long as no habit is formed,” Vael replied.

“You aren’t old enough to know how it came to be,” Anton said, taking another bite from his pastry. “Cassian and I remember how hunters used it to try to track us. It made for a dangerous time to be a vampire.”

“Hunters don’t use it anymore. They know, now, it dulls the senses. And, if it’s used long term, there are other ill effects.”

“And it doesn’t concern you that something like that has made its way into mainstream recreational use?” Anton asked.

Vael shook his head. “Who are we to tell others what to do with their own bodies? All we can do is spread awareness.”

“That’s a very shortsighted outlook,” Anton said. “But as I stated before, you’re young.”

Looking between the two of them, it would appear that they were the same age, but knowing as I did that Vael was one hundred and twenty years old, I could tell from context that Anton must be far older.

“Not so young,” Vael scoffed.

“If that is your opinion on bloodroot, yes, so young,” Anton replied, finishing his pastry.

I pressed my lips together, feeling the awkward shift as Vael struggled to find something to say. The scrape of his spoon against porcelain was the only sound for a moment.

Lifting my coffee, I took a slow sip, letting the warmth push away the edge of tension before steering us elsewhere.

“I was wondering…is there somewhere in the manor that I could use as a workspace? Silas wrote and mentioned a manuscript he’d like to send me.

If I’m to be here long term, I might as well get some work done. ”

Anton answered first. “There are so many rooms we no longer use, I’m sure we can find you something.”

“I’ll take you to look after I finish my coffee,” Vael said pointedly.

He drained the last of his cup with deliberate slowness, as if making me wait was its own kind of lesson. Anton only smirked and leaned back in his chair, the picture of contentment, while I fidgeted with the handle of my own cup.

When Vael finally rose, I did too. Anton’s gaze followed me as I stepped away from the table. “If Thalia’s asking about bloodroot, darling,” he said lazily, “make sure she’s not planning to get her hands on any.”

“I don’t think she is,” I replied. “I think she’s seeing more customers affected.”

“Mm. I’d still ask.” His smile was mild, but something sharper glinted beneath it. “Best not to underestimate old herbs with long memories.”

I nodded and followed Vael out, the warmth of the dining room fading behind me as the cooler hush of the manor’s halls closed in. My footsteps echoed faintly against the polished floors, the scent of coffee and butter still clinging to my hair and clothes.