Page 137 of Thorns & Fire
She tapped several drops from the vial into each sample dish and watched as it took effect.Her creation was almost luminescent as it made contact with the corrupted blood, spreading like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.Her cure drew the dark alchemy away from the blood and seemed to absorb it, the reaction causing a gentle hiss and a ribbon of steam to rise, producing tiny specks that danced in the air before dissipating.
‘Fascinating...’Master Norlander said, peering into the dishes.
‘Indeed.’The High Chancellor nodded.‘Though have you tested on a live subject?’
Wren nodded.‘Several mice.The Prince of Naarva, at the end of the attack after the Gauntlet.And myself.’
‘Given the nature of this opus, and its importance to the current conflict, I think it prudent to witness a live test for ourselves...’Master Crawford motioned to someone at the far side of the hall.
The click of boots echoed off the curved stone walls, heavy with urgency as two healers entered, holding up a slumped figure between them.
Queen Reyna.
Suddenly, the stakes of her demonstration crystallized with terrifying clarity.This wasn’t just about Wren’s opus.It wasn’t even about the queen herself.It was about the fate that awaited the midrealms should she fail.Thatwas what hung in the balance.TheQueen of Aveum was a shell of her former self.She looked frailer than she had when Wren had seen her after the death of her husband in the shadow war.
‘Your Majesty,’ Wren murmured, rushing to her side.
The queen’s voice was raw and throaty as she spoke.‘They forced me to drink it when I was captured.Poured it down my throat.’
‘And this happened?’Wren asked.‘You became sick?’
Queen Reyna shook her head.‘I felt my magic retreat, become muted...But beyond that, the effects were not so physical.I was able to ride to Aveum with the Warswords.I was in my palace for a time before I started to feel ill.’
Wren’s mind was racing.‘A delayed reaction...’she said to herself.‘They wanted you to think you were well, only to have you fall ill later.’
The winter queen dipped her head in confirmation, the healers still holding her up on either side.‘Elwren, I cannot see the future any more.I cannot feel a trace of my magic.’
‘She becomes weaker every day,’ one of the healers said.
‘I suspect that the aim was to use me as a scare tactic for the other royals,’ Queen Reyna rasped.‘It’s why Silas let me go with the Warswords.In the hopes I’d be taken right back here to incite panic, to show the rulers the fate that awaits them if they do not comply with his regime.I tried to go back to Aveum.I tried to stay away...’
Her words sent a chill through Wren.As far as she knew, Silas was yet to make any demands.He had spread his poisonous words across the midrealms like a disease, had provoked death and violence in the name of liberation...but he hadn’t announced any ultimatums.Not yet.
One problem at a time, she told herself.The first step was to cure Queen Reyna.Then, and only then, could she deal with everything else.
Forgetting that the masters were there, Wren examined the queen.Her skin was cold to the touch, and beneath it, Wren couldsense the corrupted magic moving like sluggish ink through her veins.Her heartbeat was slow, her complexion grey, and there was a blue tint to her lips, her fingernails...A slow poisoning of dark alchemy indeed.
‘And usual healing methods?’Wren asked.‘Have they been effective for any kind of relief?’
‘No.They simply result in the acceleration of previous symptoms.They make things worse.’
Sometimes, in the presence of other magic wielders, Wren could feel their power, but with the fragile queen in her arms, she felt nothing.
‘I trust you, Elwren,’ Queen Reyna wheezed.‘I entrust my magic, my life, to you.’
The healers lay her down on the ground, and suddenly Wren was keenly aware of all the masters crowding around her, their eyes boring holes in her back.
Gods, what if Reyna lost her magic for good?What if shedied?The questions echoed in her mind with increasing urgency, each heartbeat bringing a new potential catastrophe to the surface.Her fingers felt numb as they gripped the vial, and for a terrifying moment, she feared she might drop it.Wren pushed the voices aside.The only thing that mattered now was that the cureworked.
Swiping another vial of antidote from the table and lifting the queen’s head into her lap, she tilted Reyna’s chin up so that the potion could slide down her throat.
‘You’re alright, Your Majesty,’ she murmured.‘You’re going to be alright.’
The queen’s pupils dilated, and she stilled in Wren’s arms.The silence in the hall became absolute, pressing against Wren’s ears like a physical force.Even the usual creaks and settling sounds of the old building seemed to hold their breath.A drop of sweat rolled down Wren’s temple as she saw an array of possible futures branching out before her, all of them balanced on the edge of a blade – her mind.The masters’ presence faded away until therewas nothing but her, the queen and the desperate prayer that her cure would work.
As the minutes ticked by, the healers panicked, shoving her aside so they could check Queen Reyna’s pulse, her breathing, in a flurry of nervous movements—
‘Give her a moment,’ Wren hissed, watching with her heart in her throat.
