Breath of Winter, A (12 page)

“Drink this.” Henri held a steaming mug of tea under my nose. “It will help.”

“A new pair of these would help.” Grit scoured my eyes when I rubbed them.

“Stop that.” He caught my hand. “You’ll only make it worse.”

I fought his grip and won. “Is there a salve for dry, itchy, trying-to-go-blind eyes?”

“Yes.” He plopped a crate onto the floor at my feet. “It’s called sleep.”

“Dayflowers, I presume?” I had never seen them in person.

The plants were rare, grown only in Beltania by the Salticidae clan. The blossoms were also the sole ingredient in Mana’s cure for the plague. After reading that unfortunate comment in her notes, I understood what Henri had meant about demand versus supply. Demand was so great it may as well be endless. Supply, well, those delicate little flowers were so scarce the cure might as well not exist.

“They are indeed.” He set a bag of petals on the counter, then a row of whole plants.

So this was it, the cure. Crush those tiny blue petals in oil, bottle it, and then bottoms up.

All right, so there were several more steps in between, but that was the gist of it. Henri had spent the last several hours reading over Mana’s letters, making notes and cross-referencing every step of the cure distillation process. In the interest of preserving his sparse supply of dayflowers, Henri had never attempted to replicate her methods, which meant this was our first and only shot to get it right.

I lifted a petal and inhaled its sweet fragrance. Hard to believe a cure was hidden inside of it.

Life and death balanced within an essential oil. Who would have ever imagined?

“You’ll have to work fast. I don’t have many plants, and they’re very temperamental. I’ll guide you through the process with your first flower. The rest you can do on your own. When you finish this crate, I’ll bring you another. Five are in the greenhouse. This one makes six. At the rate of two crates per day, we ought to finish what few batches we can during the window of Ghedi’s illness.”

“Will it be enough?” My voice was so small I almost didn’t recognize it.

“It’s the potency that concerns me. The longer the oil sets, the more certain its results.”

I nodded rather than try my voice again just yet.

From his supplies, Henri offered me a mortar, a pestle and a bag lined with waxy paper.

“First pinch a petal between your thumb and forefinger. Exert gentle pressure,” he said, “pulling until it releases. See that white tip, the tapered base? You want to see that discoloration every time.”

“I think I can handle it.” I held the petal up for his inspection. Most females I knew had picked flowers when they were children for their mothers to braid into their hair. There, I was no exception. What Henri asked of me was simple work for idle hands.

“Perfect.” He offered me the pouch. “Drop it in here.”

“You want me to clean all these?” I was already fingering my next victim.

“Yes.” He pried the bag’s mouth open and placed it at my elbow. “Wait for me when you finish.”

I started my task. “Where are you going?”

He turned his back on me. “There is a matter in need of my attention.”

I challenged him to set me straight. “What can be more important than this?”

For a moment, I expected him not to answer. As it was, his reply was so vague he might as well not have bothered. “It’s not more important, it’s of equal importance. One day, you will understand.”

I asked what seemed to be my favorite question these days. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I have respected your brothers’ privacy where their silence is concerned. I understand there is a story there, but instead of asking why they have chosen the path of silence, I have simply accepted it. In this regard, I must ask you do the same.” He nodded toward his office. “I won’t be long. I swear.”

I shook my head and watched him leave. “You keep too many secrets, Henri.”

His steps slowed. “And you don’t?”

The world traded in secrets. Of course I kept a slew of them, most of them not mine to share.

With the distraction of Henri absent from the laboratory floor, I returned to work. It wasn’t long until I was ready to test his word. I angled my chair toward his office and sat. He didn’t keep me waiting. Slipping from the room, he held a syringe in one hand and a vial of red liquid in the other. When he caught me staring, he hesitated, but must have decided I didn’t want an explanation. The syringe, he tossed into a pail beneath his workstation. The vial, he fit gingerly in a small box under the counter.

Wiping his hands, he strode for the greenhouse, leaving me to wonder what sort of experiment he felt was best conducted inside his office when he had an entire laboratory at his disposal. The red liquid must be his blood, drawn by syringe. I smirked. Must be part of his preventative maintenance.

I could see why he wouldn’t want to own up to that and just how important it must be…to him.

Though I stared after his every step, Henri made an effort to act as though I wasn’t. Without comment, Henri exchanged the plants I had plucked clean for the second crate. This time the work went faster. Still lost in thought, Henri stayed to help. When his gaze strayed to his office, I frowned.

“I can do this alone if you weren’t finished doing whatever it was you were doing.”

“I appreciate the offer,” he said, jerking his gaze back to his task, “but we have work to do.”

In other words, he wasn’t keen on my knowing about what went on behind those closed doors.

After he pushed from the counter, he strode down an aisle. “Bring the bag of petals here.”

Setting them on my lap, I followed him to a bulbous kiln built into the wall on the farthest side of the laboratory. Its presence made me wonder what else he kept hidden here. No wonder he never ventured out into the nest. Why bother when everything he required was within easy reach?

“Is there anything you don’t have?” It seemed the amenities in this place were endless.

“I add whatever I find lacking as it occurs to me,” he answered absently.

“So you never have to leave.”

Startled, he glanced at me, giving me his full attention. “Yes.”

So awkward was my revelation, we both found other places to look.

“This is a kiln, isn’t it?” From across the room, it had resembled one.

“It was.” He patted it fondly. “It’s been modified.”

“I noticed.” Glowing coals in its open belly poured subtle warmth into the room. Its top was flat like a stove instead of gently sloping upward toward a chimney, with its wide flue inset into the wall.

Four metal discs were inlaid in its clay top and four copper pots rested over them. I was near enough to see that clear liquid filled each pot, the heat enough to form bubbles but not hot enough for a full boil.

“Divide the petals equally into the four pots.” From a metal vase, he picked a wooden spoon.

I did as instructed, though even for a person of my height, the rear pots were a hard reach from a sitting position. If Henri’s expression was any indication, his thoughts were far and away from here and now. Had I burned my hand, I doubt he would have noticed, so distant was his attention. When I finished my tasks, I cleared my throat and waited for him to come back from wherever he had gone.

“I’ll take it from here.” Using the bowl of the spoon, he crushed the petals into the oil.

“Are you sure?” I worried he might be the one who got blistered if he wasn’t more careful.

“You should get some rest.” At last he sought my face. “You’ve had a long day.”

“When do you plan on sleeping?” He had gone as long as I had without respite.

“When all I have to do is done,” he said earnestly.

“All right.” Unsure what else to say, I eased away from him. “Happy mixing, then.”

“Zuri?” He glanced over his shoulder. “Resist temptation.”

I froze with my hands on the wheels. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t visit Ghedi.”

“We have all been exposed.” My grip tightened. “Is the risk in visiting him so much greater?”

“I hear in your voice that you know it is. You’re tired. You’ll think clearer after you’ve rested.”

Knowing he was right and hating that he was, I grumbled, “Fine.”

“This stage requires six hours. Then we can strain the used petals, add fresh ones and begin again. We’ll do this two more times for six hours each. That gives you plenty of time to sleep.” He tapped the spoon against the pot’s lip. “Do you want more tea for the pain before you leave?”

I angled myself toward the door. “Are you sure you won’t leave with me?”

The spoon clattered to the floor behind me. “What?”

I laughed under my breath. “If you won’t take a nap, will you at least walk me to my door?”

As long as his feet were in motion, he could stave off sleep a while longer.

“Of course.” He paused beside me. “You do realize…?”

“That I can’t literally walk?” I stretched my arms over my head and yawned. “I got that part.”

The smile he aimed down at me sagged at its corners. “With you, it never hurts to be certain.”

“Oh ha ha.” I poked his side. “I have been a model patient so far.”

“So far?” He eased out of range and opened the door. “Is that a declaration of intent?”

I intended to do as he asked, within reason. I wanted a full recovery. “Just a slip of the tongue.”

His answering “Mmmhmm” was rife with doubt as he gripped the handles of my chair.

I twisted so I could see him. “I can push myself.”

He placed his hands gently on my shoulders and faced me forward. “Let me do this.”

“Suit yourself.” Hands in my lap, I let him wheel me into the tunnel like he was a proper escort.

Long as his legs were, he covered the distance to my room in a dozen strides.

“Here we are.” He opened the door with a flourish and pushed me over the threshold.

I spun and asked, “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

He leaned his head against the doorframe and let his eyes close. “I have to be.”

I set my hand on his arm. “You should take better care of yourself.”

“I usually do,” he hedged. “I will, when this is over.”

“Physicians really do make the worst patients.” I squeezed. “Wake me if you need anything.”

A soft grunt escaped him when he pushed himself upright. “I will.”

“No you won’t.” I knew males well enough to realize when I was being placated.

“You’re right.” He ran his knuckles down my cheek. “But thank you for offering.”

“Someone has to try and take care of you.” I huffed. “You can’t seem to manage it alone.”

The softening of his gaze made my stomach pitch. I couldn’t breathe when he braced his hands on my forearms, trapping me in my seat. Or when his head lowered and his lips pressed to my cheek.

“Thank you,” he said again.

“You’re welcome,” I breathed.

He withdrew slowly. “Are you sure I can’t interest you in some tea?”

“Considering how tired I am, once my head hits the pillow I won’t know the difference.”

His nod was a dismissal I should have welcomed, but when he shut the door, I almost called him back. A matter of days ago, I worried how to feed and clothe my brothers and me, how I could repair our reputations, and what I could do about the small matter of our exile from Halcidia.

Now I worried we might not survive my latest gamble with our fates.

Knowing my new fears were greater than the sum of my old ones was not comforting.

Six hours, he said. Well, I slept twelve. “You should have waked me instead of letting me sleep the day away.” By the time I joined Henri in the laboratory, all my tasks had been done for me.

Henri had tended to the third and fourth crates, plucked the next batch of petals, crushed them in oil and resumed his usual position at his regular table, hunched over three tiny glass vials and a syringe, leaving Asher to admit me. Henri was so lost in his work, he didn’t acknowledge my arrival.

Turning to the male paying attention, I asked Asher, “Why are you here?”

His gaze skittered toward the open hatch, as if he meant to step through it, so I blocked him.

“Kaleb and Tau decided to stay with Ghedi to lessen the chance of passing the plague on to you. Fynn joined Malik a few hours ago.” At my growl, he added, “Fynn wants to help out, and he’s well enough. Braden and I are swapping shifts between the stables and bastille until we’re sure those two can handle it.” He smirked. “Wouldn’t want your brothers trying to pet the pretty lady, would we?”

“Asher?” I curled my finger until he bent down. “Don’t talk about my brothers.” I threw all the force I could muster into punching him in the gut. He gasped, but he was already bent over, so it was hard to judge whether I had made my point.

I was about to expound when Henri decided that I did, in fact, exist. He straightened slowly with a rusty movement that made him wince.