Page 32 of Silver in the Bone

“Stop—stop—”

The shadow disappeared again, ushering in cold air, only to appear once more. I struggled against the feeling of hands on my shoulders, of being held in place.

“No,” I begged. “Please ...”

“It’s all right, you’re okay—”

A lie. A lie ... the darkness came again, pure and all-consuming. The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back, stretched out over something soft and cushioned. The air had taken on a sweet, green smell, and my skin felt cooler than it had in hours. A light, damp pressure covered my eyes.

Nothing hurt; my head felt heavy as I breathed in the faint smell of mint, but my body only relaxed against the ground, like a seed trying to find a way to slip down into the darkness beneath the surface.

Emrys?

I must have said his name aloud, because he responded. “Here.”

Darkness swam in my vision again, and I couldn’t tell if my eyes were open or closed. The only thing I knew for certain was that voice.

“I’m here.”

When I woke again, I was facedown on my sleeping bag, my body as heavy as stone.

I drew in a sharp breath. My head pounded, feeling like it might spin up and off my neck. I propped myself up onto my elbows, closing my eyes until the wave of nausea passed.

Alive, I thought.

Mint, beeswax, and another scent I couldn’t identify—incense?—drifted around me. I rubbed grit from my eyes, only to jolt when my mind caught up and I realized I could see again.

Did it work? The thought was searing.

I held my hands in front of my face, turning them over and back again. There was a smear of something on the back of my left hand—an ointment, speckled with flecks of fragrant green leaves. It was on my chest and face, too, cool to the touch and soothing with its mint scent. The bites on my arm were slathered in a different ointment and had been rebandaged. I lifted the coarse fabric to find the wounds nearly healed.

I reached for the canteen beside the sleeping pad, desperate to clear the disgusting taste from my mouth. Empty.

Finally, I remembered.

I rose, first to my knees, and then my feet, and when the world stopped spinning, I stumbled out of the tent into the lavender sky of early morning. I caught a hint of coffee somewhere nearby, but it was the cold bite of the clean, damp air that cleared my mind.

Emrys sat with his back to me, nurturing a small campfire within the ring of our combined ward garlands, combining our two camps into one. He lifted a kettle from the flames and stirred its contents once more before pouring the dark liquid into two tin mugs.

He turned, holding one out to me. “Helped myself to the coffee packets in your bag. Thought you wouldn’t mind.”

My entire body felt exhausted, as if I’d been awake for weeks, but that didn’t dull my outrage. “Well, I do mind. I didn’t bring that many!”

He still held the mug out, waiting. “All the more reason to drink this so it doesn’t go to waste.”

I trudged forward, sitting on the damp ground with a noise of irritation. After passing the mug to me, Emrys picked up his own. He blew on the steam rising from it, then took a deep sip.

“Holy gods,” he said, coughing and pounding on his chest. “Did you harvest this from the pits of hell?”

“If you hate it so much, give it back.” I tried to pull the mug out of his hand, but he held it up and away.

“It’s like Lucifer himself shit in the cup,” he said, giving said cup an accusatory look.

“Hilarious,” I said, reaching for it again, “but I won’t let you waste it.”

“No, no,” he said with a martyred expression. “I can suffer a bit of poison in the name of caffeine.”

He took another big gulp and gagged.

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