Evangeline lay still, but her chest began to rise with shallow breaths and a weak, slow pulse was visible in her neck.
Alaric poured the acadanthus tea into a cup. Using a small medicine dropper, he dripped the tea into her mouth, watching her neck for signs that she was swallowing. After he’d fed her half the cup, he dredged the leaves from the kettle and mashed them into a paste. He lifted her dress up to just above her knee where the swollen, black wound gaped. Purplish red streaks wound up her leg. He began to gently clean and drain the wound, focusing his mind completely on the task, working at it until it was as clean as he could get it. He packed the wound with the paste of acadanthus leaves and wrapped her leg with clean bandages. Then he resumed his seat next to her and filled the dropper again with tea.
The next morning, Alaric awoke stiff. He had fallen asleep in a cot near Evangeline. It was his bed whenever he was at the castle. The morning sunlight was behind the mountains, and Evangeline’s room was still dim. He lit a candle and brought it close to her.
She still slept. He set his hand on her forehead and drew in a sharp breath. It was cooler. Not completely back to normal, but her fever was definitely lower. He set the candle down and unwrapped her leg. Underneath, the lines reaching up her leg had faded to a dull red and the swelling was almost gone.
It was working.
He put some more acadanthus leaves in the kettle, his stomach in knots. It was working.
He pulled the ruby out of the pouch at his neck and laid it on the pillow near her head. The Reservoir Stone did not hold enough life to wake her up. Seeing her here, seeing how little of her was left, he knew Gustav had been right.
He dropped his forehead down on the edge of Evangeline’s pillow. Healing her would take the sacrifice of something healthy, something strong. But maybe that price could be paid, somehow. Maybe…
He lay there for hours until Milly came to let him know there was lunch in Brandson’s room. He stood and stretched, dragging his mind back to the present.
Alaric was pleased to see the smith sitting up and talking with the others. His leg looked better and his fever was gone. Brandson smiled gratefully at Alaric and thanked him. The group chatted with each other while they ate the cold sausage from last night’s dinner. Alaric found himself staring out the window.
Finally, he excused himself and went back to Evangeline’s room.
He pulled his chair close to the table and sank into it, taking her hand.
It was time. With the crystal gone, he imagined that the blue had moved infinitesimally farther up her fingers. He cast out to feel the vitalle in her body. It was so weak and thin that he could barely sense it. Next to her head, the vitalle in the ruby was similarly thin. There was no way that energy would be enough to fill her whole body.
There was no point to this waiting, this lingering. There were only two choices. One was to let her die, the other to sacrifice someone else to save her…
She’d hate him for it, but it might give her a chance.
“Forget what you are planning, Keeper,” Ayda said softly.
Alaric whipped his head toward her. She stood just inside the door, watching him with large, troubled eyes.
Alaric looked at the elf with narrow eyes. “I told you to stay out of my head,” he said flatly.
Ayda gave a short laugh. “I don’t need to read your mind to know what you are thinking.” Then she walked over to the other side of Evangeline. “Your sacrifice would be more than useless. It would be cruel.”
Alaric glared at Ayda, saying nothing.
Ayda held his gaze. “There is too much death in her, Alaric,” she said gently. “All of the life inside of you will not wipe it out. Your death would bring her back barely, but only to be trapped in a broken body. She would revive to find herself in pain and you dead beside her. Then she would still die herself.”
Alaric dropped his head into his hands, his fingers digging into his skull.
“There are worse things than death,” Ayda whispered.
Alaric looked up at her. Ayda’s face was strangely taut. She looked at him sadly.
“Alaric, there is only one thing left for you to do.”
“I can’t even say goodbye.” His voice sounded like someone else’s, as though the words tore themselves out of him. “If I wake her, she’ll be in so much pain.”
The room was silent for a long time.
Ayda moved first. She went to one of the pots of flowers and snapped off a few blossoms, then she stepped out onto the balcony, walked to the potted trees and set the flowers near the base of each trunk. With a whisper, the blooms began sending out tendrils, winding their way up the trunks with thin green vines, sprouting out tiny buds every few inches until the trees looked like they were about to burst into bloom.
She touched a few buds on each tree, and the breeze brought in a soft smell of spring. Ayda stood looking out, with her back to the room. Finally, she nodded and turned to Alaric.
“I can help,” Ayda said. “We can help,” she gestured to herself. “I can make it so she doesn’t feel much pain.” Then she looked at him intently, clarifying. “I can’t take all the pain away, but whatever she feels should be mild, compared to…”
Alaric looked at her, a faint flicker of hope igniting.
“You could remove the healing spells and wake her,” Ayda continued. “All these spells have served their purpose. They gave you the time you needed to look for the antidote. But they serve no purpose now.”
No purpose. The words rang dully in Alaric’s head. But there was a way. Gustav had done it, Kordan had. The flicker of hope turned to fury. Why did he not have enough life? Where could he find more?
You cannot find more. What would you do? Sacrifice us all? Ayda asked, her voice speaking quietly in his mind.
Alaric’s head whipped up and he glared at her. He shoved at her presence in his mind, pushing her away, but she stood firm. Standing just on the edge of his mind. Not invading him, but not leaving, either.
This is not what you want.
The words rang in his mind, echoing the Shield’s words. This is not what you want.
But he did. He wanted it more than anything.
“No,” Ayda spoke firmly out loud. “You do not…. and neither does she.”
Alaric’s eyes tightened. “How would you know what she wants?” he growled.
Ayda looked down at Evangeline, warring emotions crossing her face. Then she looked back up at Alaric her expression wretched. Reluctantly, she spoke.
“Because she’s not really asleep.”