Page 75 of Lady of Ashes

“Tell me, your Majesty, have you learned of your mother?” Hazel asked, white light beginning to emit from her palm where it pressed against Cassius’s cheek.

Scarlett’s brows came together in confusion. She glanced at the room of gathered Fae, not understanding why this was relevant, when Cassius could take his last breath at any moment.

“Yes,” Scarlett answered slowly.

“His father was one of you,” Hazel replied.

“What?”

“His father was like your parents. His father was like you,” she said again.

Scarlett shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“You need to understand,” Hazel insisted. “You need to set your grief and panic and fear aside for a moment and think about everything that you have learned and discovered. His life depends on it, and even then, I do not know that it will be enough.”

“Can you not just tell me?” Scarlett cried, and Sorin’s hand came to her shoulder, squeezing gently in warning. But she didn’t give a fuck. She didn’t care about the reputation of the Witches being ruthless and brutal. She didn’t care that she was being disrespectful. She didn’t care that the room was full of godsdamn royalty.

“I cannot,” Hazel replied, her eyes narrowing. “Just as Eliné was sworn to secrecy, so was I.” She pulled up the sleeve of her witch-suit where a Bargain Mark indeed stood out. “So listen very carefully, Scarlett. Do you know how your mother’s kind replenished their power? Do you know the cost the Fae paid for their magic when it was bestowed upon them?”

“What? Why would that matter?”

“Because it is also how they can heal from fatal wounds,” Hazel answered. “Do you know?”

Scarlett was shaking her head, trying to sift through memories of history she’d read and research she’d come across. She was trying to push down her panic and terror of Cassius dying, but she couldn’t focus. She couldn’t think straight. Because Cassius was dying. Cassius was going to leave her. Cassius was going to—

“Scarlett,” Hazel said sharply, pulling her from her spiral into darkness. “They must have given you something to keep you from weakening,” Hazel insisted, a slight pleading entering her voice.

And realization slammed into her. The tonic they had given her was always coppery and metallic tasting. Alaric summoning Tarek when she was weak. His arm bleeding. Tarek pressing his bleeding wound to her mouth in the yard earlier, not even an hour ago.

Tarek.

Who was Fae.

Sorin’s words from all those months ago atop a horse as they traveled to the Fire Court came ?ooding back to her.

Avonleyans need Fae for magical sustenance. They feed on their magic for healing and strengthening their own powers.

Her eyes widened in understanding, and she whipped her head around, her eyes landing on Cyrus. He was standing near the end of the bed, his face solemn as he watched everything play out.

“Cyrus, I need you,” Scarlett said, reaching for him.

“Scarlett?” Sorin questioned, but she ignored him, motioning for Cyrus to come to her side.

As soon as she could grab him, she gripped Cyrus’s hand, pulling him towards her. “I need a dagger,” she said, holding out her other hand.

“Scarlett, you need to tell us—” Sorin started, but Hazel was already pressing one into her hand. She was slashing it across Cyrus’s forearm before anyone could make a move to stop her, and she tugged him towards Cassius’s mouth. Pressing the bloody wound against his lips, she glanced back at Hazel.

“How will we know if it works?”

“With wounds this extensive, it will take days,” Hazel answered, her eyes on her son. “But we should have some idea within a few hours.”

“I cannot ask Cyrus to stand here for hours,” Scarlett replied.

“Of course not,” Hazel said. “As long as he still breathes, we give him more every couple hours.” Her eyes ?icked to Scarlett’s. “You need to go rest.”

“Not until I know if he will live,” Scarlett answered, shaking her head in refusal, gripping on to Cassius.

“You will be of no use to anyone if you cannot even stand,” Hazel retorted. “I can help you sleep if you wish.”

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