Page 19 of Tethered In Blood

I write with urgency, as time is not on our side. A sickness has taken hold of Silverfel, spreading faster than our healer can combat it. Fever, convulsions, bleeding from the gums and nose. These are but the beginning. Those afflicted weaken within nights, slipping into a stupor before their bodies fail.

We have tried every known remedy, including poultices, tinctures, and even the oldest of Silverfel’s herbal traditions, yet nothing halts its progression. This is no ordinary illness. It is relentless, and we are losing.

I have pleaded for aid before, but the men who oversee our forces refuse to trust the knowledge of women or herbalists, calling for a ‘proper’ physician. None have come, and none will.

Suppose the Courts do not send help soon, Silverfel will fall to this sickness, and whatever afflicts us may not stop here.

I beg you to send someone more knowledgeable. Someone who can help.

-T. Whitlow, Silverfel Healer

I traced a finger over the signature. “Why are you showing me this?”

Alric’s expression remained neutral when I glanced up from the letter. “I believe you understand why,” he sighed. “I spoke with Calder. She mentioned that Larkspur would be the best fit to handle it.” He gestured toward the journal. “And now I understand why.”

My fingers flexed against the parchment, and my expression darkened. “You’re planning to send her there.”

He nodded. “With you.”

“You expect me to be a child minder?” I scoffed.

Alric smirked. “No, I expect you to keep her safe and ensure she doesn’t get herself killed, Oberon.”

“Of course you do. And you think she will go along with that?”

Alric smirked. “She won’t be able to resist. You’ve seen her work. She won’t turn her back on those in need. Not after surviving so much to reach this point.”

I pursed my lips. It annoyed me he was right. The illness wasn’t simple; it was new and unnatural.

The decision to send Quinn Larkspur was sensible. She differed from the other herbalists dispatched to treat soldiers with scraped knees and upset stomachs. She understood things that others did not. She had experienced them. She knew exactly what they needed.

My tongue traced the inside of my lip before I looked back at Alric. “You’re sure about this?”

“You don’t think she is capable?”

“No. That isn’t the problem. I think Calder is right.”

Alric’s lips twitched. “Then, what is it that bothers you?”

I didn’t have a straightforward answer, just a feeling—a sense of wrongness that lingered in a corner of my mind. Something about her, about Silverfel, about it all.

“I’ll go,” I muttered, returning the letter to him. “When do we leave?”

Ease washed over Alric’s features. “Tomorrow. At first light. Calder is preparing what Larkspur will need, but it requires the sun’s time.” I picked up the journal from the table and moved toward the door. “Oberon.”

He folded his arms across his chest when I glanced over my shoulder. “Don’t remain oblivious to it. If magic is involved… You need to be prepared.”

I held his gaze for a moment. “Get some sleep, Alric.”

8

Eden

WHENIPUSHEDtheinfirmary doors open, I expected to find him where I had left him the previous night. Instead, I stood in the doorway, dumbfounded as I stared at the empty cot.Why did I care?

Perhaps it was curiosity. He was frustrating, impossible, and far too obstinate. I couldn’t shake the image of him from last night—pale, drenched in sweat, struggling to remain conscious. No ordinary man could have walked away from that in just a few hours. No typical man could have survived.

My feet carried me toward Calder’s office. I hesitated before knocking, then pushed the door open. She glanced up from her work. “Looking for something?” She continued searching through the papers scattered across her desk, frowning at one before setting it aside. Next, she moved on to the bulky book that lay open in front of her.

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