Page 15 of By the Orchid and the Owl
He turned without another word and strolled away, down the alley and onto Bascite Boulevard, leaving me standing in an alley with a pill and a pumping heart.
CHAPTER
7
Icouldn’t go back to the tent.
Not only would Rodhi and the others no longer remember me, but based on the heavy silence of the arena, vibrating with the hum of crickets and the plopping of raindrops on tents, it sounded like everyone was asleep at last.
Plus, I couldn’t risk anyone’s life again. The thrum of power within me had faded, but what if it regenerated once I fell asleep? What if I exploded again?
When I stepped out onto the vacant Bascite Boulevard, therefore, I began walking in the opposite direction. Away from everyone else, over the bridge, to the courtyard.
Here, that fountain Coen had supposedly been standing on tinkled peacefully, blending in with the sound of the heavy drizzle. I surveyed the sections of buildings in every direction and aimed for the one with the most trees. The treehouse I’d built with Quinn when we were ten wasn’t the only tree I’d ever climbed. We used to dare each other to go higher and higher, until we were in the canopies with the monkeys and sloths.
Those memories left me feeling oh so very heavy right now.
Trying to focus purely on my present situation, I found the perfect tree nestled between two stone buildings, its canopy of leaves spread wide over the massive fork of its limbs.
A jump and a grunt later, I had swung my legs over its lowest branches and nestled myself in the crook of its arms. Lonely. I was lonelier than I’d ever been in my life, but there were no tears to clog my throat now. Only dry, aching hollowness.
In the starlight, I brought the pill in front of my face and examined it.
“What are you?” I breathed—to the pill itself or to the power it was supposed to repress, I didn’t know. Coen had saved my life, so I doubted he’d try to ruin it by feeding me a harmful drug, but still… all that he’d said about the Good Council…
I closed my eyes, processing it.
Tomorrow was the Branding. If the bascite they would force in my blood made me burst with something ten times more powerful than what I’d just experienced, if I hurt anyone in that crowd, could I even blame the Good Council for hauling me away right then and there and tossing me to the pirates? My blood was wrong, somehow, twisted and monstrous, like a disease swimming through my veins, ready to bite.
But this pill would negate it, according to Coen. Suppress the monster and let the Good Council-sanctioned magic rise to the surface. Or—had he said that last part? What if the pill suppressedallmagic, and nothing happened when they Branded me?
Sleep on it, Fabian would tell me. Perhaps that was all I could do for now.
So I slipped the pill in my front tunic pocket and let my dreams pull me under.
“Hey, stop it. You’re tickling me.”
For a moment, I forgot everything. I was back in my bed at home, the birds were whistling, and Don was poking me awake.
Then I sat bolt upright.
And almost fell from the tree.
Three separate monkeys scurried away, chittering to each other in the soft, orange light of dawn and a salt-stained breeze wafting in from the ocean.
“What, were there bugs in my hair?” I muttered, patting my head… and stopped. Whereas last night my curls had taken on a truly unruly shape after the bascale incident, now it flowed down my back in two tight, intricate braids.
My hands shifted down to the front pocket of my tunic in a panic.
A lump. The pill was still there, but that thrum in my chest… it was completely gone. That horrible, clawing power and the bascite that had triggered it must have left my system. For now.
I loosed a sigh and peered up at the three pairs of monkey eyes blinking at me through the tree’s canopy.
“Thank you?” One of the Wild Whisperers must have taught them how to braid hair. Did that mean they could understand human language, even if I couldn’t understand them? I cleared my throat and said, more earnestly, “Thank you. Really. I was beginning to look like I might have some troll ancestors.”
The joke fell flat, of course.Monkeys don’t laugh, I reminded myself, and shook my head. Last night had really tangled up every thought in my brain.
A brain that a Mind Manipulator had already infiltrated once. Even if it was just to make me believe the fountain in the courtyard was invisible, even if hehadn’tbeen solely responsible for the pirate hallucination, that thought left a sour tinge on my tongue. And everything Coen had said flooded back…
