Page 96 of Treasured

We could do anything.

* * *

After Sebastian had assured me that he was stronger than ever—and had proven it in our bedroom—it was time to see Marius. A novice had stopped by with a message from Odette: the potion was ready. I hurriedly changed into a clean robe, courtesy of the priestesses, before we shadowed to the wing where Marius slept.

My brother’s condition remained unchanged. He was frail and unmoving in the bed, his skeletal chest rising and falling. His skin was far too pale, and his hair was plastered against his face. His mouth remained open; his lips chapped as he breathed in the stale air. If it weren’t for the slight point in his ears, the arch marking him as a halfling, one wouldn’t have known he had elf blood.

If my little brother survived into his twenties, he would Mature. A gift from the gods that blessed the elves, witches, shifters, and merfolk in the Four Kingdoms, Maturation extended lives for several centuries.

If he survived.

Right now, Marius looked like he was moments away from death. I’d never seen him in such bad shape. Tears rushed to my eyes, and I choked back a sob. Despite the open window letting in the slightest of breezes, the room stank of sweat and sickness. The witches had been feeding him liquids and keeping his bedding clean, but nothing could remove the miasma of illness. Not completely.

My stomach churned, and Sebastian squeezed my hand.

I’m here, he whispered through our bond.

Thank the gods he was. I didn’t know if I would have been strong enough to handle the sight of my brother like this without Sebastian. He was my rock, my strength, my love. No matter what else happened to us, he was mine.

Right now, I needed him more than ever.

Sebastian pressed a kiss to my knuckles, his gentle touch sending tingles through me. “Go to your brother,” he murmured, squeezing my hand. “I won’t go anywhere.”

I smiled, releasing his hand and moving to Marius’s side. Kneeling on the ground, I took my brother’s hand in mine.

“Hey there, Mar-Mar.” The nickname was one I’d always used for him, and it just felt right. I squeezed his frail fingers, trying to ignore how I could feel every bone through his papery skin. “I’ve missed you.”

There was no response. His chest rose and fell steadily, but that was it.

Pressing his hand against my cheek, I whispered, “It’s just us now, Marius.” Shadows flooded from me, covering my brother in a blanket made from the night itself. “Our family… they’re dead.” My eyes watered, and I sucked in a breath to try and keep the tears at bay. It was too late. They fell, leaving crimson markers of my grief on the bed. “They’re resting, and they’ve found peace.”

One of Marius’s fingers twitched, and the movement sent a jolt through me. Realistically—scientifically—I knew it was just his body’s natural reaction, but that didn’t stop hope from running through me.

“We’re going to wake you up,” I murmured, rubbing his hand to warm him. “The witches here are very good. Odette is coming with the potion, and it’s going to work. I’m sure of it.”

Soon, I would be hugging my brother.

When I left Ipotha to marry Sebastian, I never imagined this would be my reunion with my family.

But here we were.

The harbinger, the Sunwalker, and the Wielder of Shadows.

A hand brushed my shoulder. Sebastian crouched beside me, tilting his head towards the door. “Someone’s coming,” he murmured. “It’s time.”

True to his word, the door creaked open less than a minute later.

“May I come in?” Odette’s head poked into the room, her red hair in a messy bun on top of her head.

I turned, clutching my brother’s hand once again. “Yes, of course.”

The witch entered, carrying the vial like it was a precious jewel. The foul smell was gone, and the color had changed. Violet and turquoise swirled together like an aurora, the remaining specks of Isvana’s plant an emerald green among the rest of the potion.

“I’ve read the grimoire hundreds of times over the past few days.” Odette placed the vial on the nightstand. “I’m hopeful this will work.”

I swallowed, suddenly nervous. This was the moment we’d been waiting for, the one I’d anticipated since Syndra first told me of the plant. And yet, now that it was here, I found myself filled with fear. What if this didn’t work? This wouldn’t be the first time a witch tried to help my brother. It wasn’t even the fifth or the tenth or the twentieth time it happened.

Statistically, failure was the likely outcome. As a scientist, I knew trial and error was a part of the research process.

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