Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
I glance at his slackened face and hurriedly drop my trembling lips to his neck. I suck deeply. Poisoned blood rushes into my mouth, and I spit out the bitter taste; lower my head to his neck again.
Sweat pearls at my temples, and my hands are clammy where they’re supporting him. My thumb moves under his jaw, a calming stroke for both of us. He stirs, and I spit and check his face for any sign of improvement. His eyelids are opening. His lips are parting.
I dip my head, clasp my lips to his neck, and take one last pull to be sure. He twitches under my mouth, and my hands lock against him. He’s conscious. He’ll be safe.
My breath shudders and my nose taps the skin under his ear. I rip myself away from his neck and off his lap.
“You can save without magic.”
I spit out the last of the venom and determinedly don’t look back. I hastily find a sack and capture the snake inside.
But his words echo in my mind as I carry the snake to the woods on trembling legs.
You can save without magic.
When I return, reluctantly, in the late afternoon, Quin is still there, speaking with the manager of the neighbouring perfumery. She’s a beautifully dressed woman in her late twenties, and she’s happily seated close to Quin on the steps outside.
“. . . end of Cherrywood Lane. I can show you the way if you like?”
“That won’t be necessary,” I say.
Quin looks up sharply at my approach. He thanks the woman for her help, and pushes up on his cane. “Wasn’t sure you’d return.”
I wasn’t sure I would, either. But the thought of Nicostratus, imprisoned in his own home, at risk of being dragged to the prison at any moment . . . “We’ve more to do.”
We head towards Vitalian Dimos’s home, and my temple burns from Quin’s glances. “I walked past here with Nicostratus,” I say. “I remembered the way. It’s better not to involve too many people in our affairs.” I halt halfway down the lane. “Which house is it?”
Quin gestures to an aklo in a nearby yard. “We’ll have to involve others in our affairs.”
I slink after him to the aklo and ask if he knows Vitalian Dimos. Dark eyes look at us from under a caterpillar brow. “Haven’t been here long—what’s he look like?”
I fish in my pouch for the folded portrait and hand it to him. He opens it, frowns again, and scratches his brow. “Isn’t that—” he points a finger at Quin, and turns the picture around. At the flash of Wanted Quin’s face, I snatch the paper and stuff it back into the pouch, taking out the correct portrait this time.
My face is hot, and Quin is far too quiet beside me.
I clear my throat. “That’s the man we’re looking for.”
“I think . . . he’s the healer? Ah, his house is the one with the broken gable. But I haven’t seen him in a couple of days. There’s a rumour redcloaks claimed his spell was poison.”
“When did this happen?”
He turns to ask an akla carrying well water and she puts her bucket down. “Last week. A group came to his store, some with bee stings. He gave the injured men a spell but it worsened their condition. They almost died. They said he used harmful spells and reported him.”
We thank them for their help, and ask they report to the constabulary if Vitalian Dimos returns. Then we snoop—check out the herb garden he’s cultivated, poke around the property—and return to the city square as lanterns are being lit against a quickly darkening sky.
“That’s all we can do for today,” Quin says. “Tomorrow, I’ll look into the whereabouts of Paxos.”
“Do you think the commander knows something? Seems strange that he wouldn’t mention a runaway soldier. Especially one who left on the day of these deaths.”
“He’s definitely hiding things. What those things are, and the reasons for them . . .” Quin inclines his head, and flags for a buggy. “I’ll drop you off on the way.”
I eye the tight space inside and shake my head. “I’ll leave it to you.”
He narrows his eyes, but ultimately climbs in.
I watch until his buggy disappears around a bend, and turn away. Though the lanterns are many, and bright, none seem to help me see clearly. My chest feels tight and my head throbs. I should head back to Nicostratus’s house. Eat with him, reassure him things are progressing.
I continue trudging the city streets. Another hour, and I can skip to bed sooner.
I rub my temples and wander cobbled alleys and lanes. Sick beggars plead for help from dingy nooks, and I can’t even . . . not even simplex spells. My stomach sinks to my knees as I slouch past them.