Page 94 of The Last One
“Did I?”
“How do I know if you’re—?”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Trying to poison you?”
I watch his face, then stare down at the bowl in his hands, unblinking. I take it, and the clay feels cool in my hands, even though it holds bubbling broth.
“Know your friends,” Veril says. “Know your foes.” Then he holds up a twisted brown stick the length of a caterpillar. “This is rumored to make people remember those things they wish to forget. Let’s see if this will help you.” He drops it in my bowl. “Drink up.”
I sip, and immediately my tongue feels like it’s being pulled over my nose and my head weighs more than the realm. I’m forced to rest my forehead against the table, eyes squeezed tight. The pain is so great my blood turns frosty and my heart crumples and expands in my chest. My lungs compress like they are in a vise, and I can’t even gasp.
As the liquid slips through me, the tightness across my scalp eases and I can take long breaths through my nose. A calm finally worms up my spine and seeps through my skin. Relaxes the lids of my closed eyes and—
A man wearing a crown. And exploding light. I fall from the heavens, spears of silver-gray rocks chasing me as I fall toward a sea, screaming, “Save me. Help me. Hurry!” The man wearing the crown roars as I plunge beneath the sea and—
I open my eyes. Heart racing, I struggle for air. “I can’t breathe.”
Veril holds up a vial of black liquid. “Absorbs toxic substances.”
I take the vial and drink, and I taste earth, smoke, and bamboo. Sharp pain erupts in my stomach, and I pull myself into a tight ball. Beads of sweat break out across my skin.
But then lightness comes. No pain.
“You remembered something,” Veril says, watching me carefully.
I pat my sweaty face. “I don’t know what it means yet.” There’s too much light in this cottage now. I want to close my eyes. “I’m tired, Veril. I can’t say anymore right now.”
He pushes me back to the room and helps settle me in his bed.
I drift off to sleep thinking about my perilous fall from the heavens, about that man and his terrible light, about the horrors awaiting me in the depths of that caustic sea…
28
I open my eyes and see only darkness. Am I alone?
No. There’s a silhouette framed against the dying light.
My muscles tighten, my mind still lost between sleep and phantoms.
He clears his throat—it’s Jadon placing a bundle of wildflowers in a vase on the dresser. Even in the coming twilight, the flowers are vibrant purples, yellows, and blues. Their perfume wafts through the bedroom, sweet and earthy, and mixes with Jadon’s scent of smoke and pine.
Right as he tiptoes to leave the room, I say, “They’re beautiful.” My mouth feels dry and stale, like old bread and straw.
“Just wanted to add some cheer and color.” He turns away from the door but doesn’t move any closer.
A fresh cup of hot tea sits on the nightstand, a tendril of steam rising from the surface. “You brought me today’s brew?”
He smiles. “I did. How are you feeling?” He hands me the mug.
I try to sit up, and an ache moves through my muscles, a reminder that I’m still injured but healing. “My limbs don’t feel like I’m being pulled down by anvils. The pain’s different. And my throat feels scratchy and tight. Something’s wrong. I feel like my mind is all over the place, like a leaf being blown by the wind. It’s not this.” I gesture toward the undressed wound.
Jadon takes a small step closer to the bed.
“Veril says that I don’t have Miasma. He thinks that I’m just recovering from an otherworldly attack. And if I don’t have Miasma, then that means that I’m not contagious.”
Amused, Jadon says, “Are you sure about that?”
“No.” I pat the spot beside me. “But you’re an adventurer. You court danger.”
