Page 7 of A Curse of Malice & Mercy

“Took a long time.”

My neck and cheeks heat. “Yeah I… couldn’t find it.” I hold up the bottle.

“Do not lie to me, Alessia.“ She takes the bottle from me with a sigh, walking unsteadily to the table and setting it down before facing me again. “That boy is no good.”

That boy is the only man who pays me consented attention. For all his faults, if I’d told him no in the cellar, he wouldn’t have forced me. That’s better than most men that step foot into this house. However, I choose not to argue with Char.

“I know.”

Her eyes narrow sharply. “You are in luck today.” She holds a familiar jar. “I have a bit of salve left.”

“Char,” I hiss. I grab her hands, covering the small jar. “What are you thinking?”

“If I cannot protect you, the least I can do is alleviate your suffering.”

I shake my head. “No. I’m not using it.”

They’ll notice that I’ve healed so quickly, and the punishment will be so much worse—for both of us, not just me.

“The lady will not take notice and the lord is gone for the week. I guarantee he will be too drunk to keep his eyes open when he returns.”

I bite my lip as I hesitate, weighing my options. The salve is enchanted with magic from the fae. It will heal my wounds immediately, but magic is banned here. Not only here in Lyson, but in the entire realm. Anyone caught using magic or enchantments is deemed a fae sympathizer and hanged without trial.

Simply having the salve around is a risk for us both. I’ve only agreed to using it a few times, when I was in too much pain to rest. But the paranoia almost isn’t worth the relief it brings.

I scan the room nervously, afraid someone will overhear. My worries are unwarranted, however, because drunken chatter spills down the hallway, but no one is in sight.

“Are you ever going to tell me how you get it?”

“Mind your business.” She says it with kindness, but it’s the same answer she gives me anytime I ask.

“It is my business since you’re using it on me.”

She sighs. “From someone in the village.”

“Someone or something?” I ask. Fae?

“That is all you are getting from me, my Alessia.”

I narrow my eyes at her. We both know none of the regular shops would risk selling enchanted products or magical salves. Either there are fae in Lyson, or there’s a sympathizer who imports their products. Both prospects intrigue me.

That Char refuses to confide in me only piques my interest.

“I thought you said the fae can’t be trusted,” I accuse. “They can’t be so bad if they give humans healing—”

“Alessia,” she warns.

“I’m simply saying, they can’t be that cruel compared to the horrors we’ve faced here. Perhaps we could leave and cross the Gleam—”

“And succumb to certain death?” It’s not the first time she’s said these words, and it won’t be the last. She squeezes her eyes shut, her crows feet and frown wrinkles more prominent than ever, making her look even older than her sixty-something years. “At least you are alive here. Stop romanticizing things you know nothing about.”

Her harsh tone puts an end to my questioning, and I change tactics.

“Okay,” I tell Char. “Keep your secrets, but this is the last time I’m using this cream.” I level a stern look at her. She’s heard these same words from me before, too. “I mean it this time. Stop putting yourself at risk. Please.”

Char doesn’t respond as she lifts my skirts, soothing my backside with a generous helping of the cream. I flinch as she slathers the cool cream around. The pain is alleviated almost immediately, and I know without looking that the balm leaves unblemished skin behind.

“Are you finally going to use the salve on your wounds?“ I prod, turning to face Char when she finishes.

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