My stomach writhes in response, and I cross my arms across my abdomen with a groan. “Can’t.” I weakly bat the vial away.
“Try,” he demands, tone icy as he pushes it to my mouth and forces my chin back.
“No, please,” I cry, snapping my head to the side. He heaves a sigh but removes the vial.
“When did this start?”
I squint, blinking as I try to make out the room. Spots dance in my vision. There’s no sunlight, only the overhead orbed lights. “What time is it?”
“It’s…late. I’m sorry I should’ve—I should’ve come back sooner.”
“Been a while,” I mumble. Too tired to even remain upright, I curl back on the bed, abdomen burning like a fiery pulse. Even the daemon feels mild in comparison.
“I’m not very good at healing. I’m going to have to go get someone.”
The next time I’m stirred awake, a strange man is yanking my dress up. I startle as Sitri steps into view from behind him. “It’s okay. He’s a healer.”
Sitri shifts the blankets up over my hips as the healer bares my midriff. “Will you bind her?”
“Wait—why?” I rasp, in a panic, lifting myself up with newfound strength.
“Is that really necessary?” Sitri asks.
“If I’m interrupted, we’ll have to start over,” says the white-haired man, his face stern. Start what over? My pulse quickens in my chest.
“Don’t panic,” Sitri says firmly. For once, instead of binding me with his magic, he pulls my hands up to hold them by my head. “She’ll be still,” he tells the healer before looking at me for my agreement. I nod reluctantly. The healer looks unconvinced, however he doesn’t argue any further.
His palm is cold as it presses against my bare skin. I tense against the unwelcome sensation. His magic is cold, too, like water being poured straight into my blood. It steals my breath as it meets my stomach, the cold turning into an icy burn. My muscles go rigid, fists clenching around Sitri’s hands. It shifts, filling me and expanding out. The pain seems to go on forever until I can feel the entire outline of my stomach throbbing, wilting against the healer’s magic. It filters out the same way it came in, back into his hands, and I let out a sharp exhale.
My mouth fills with saliva. Blood, the bitter tang coating my tongue. I jerk out of Sitri’s grip and wrench myself to the side, only narrowly making it to the side of the bed. The blood disappears immediately as I wipe at my mouth. Someone aids me in pulling my dress back down. I press my arms over my face in both mortification and misery.
Silence eats up the room until Sitri’s voice finally breaks through it. “What is it? Did you heal her?” There’s an irritated quality to his tone that wasn’t there before.
“This…” the healer starts and trails off. “Let’s not disturb her rest.”
Sitri says nothing, but there’s a brush of his fingers against my arm as if to say, ‘Be right back’ before they depart. Everything is sluggish. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know there must be a reason why the healer didn’t want to say anything in front of me.
It takes everything in me to haul myself out of the bed. I falter as my feet meet the floorboards, legs wobbling. My vision blurs with the effort as I steady myself against the bed. How have I weakened so rapidly? I use the bed for support, and when I reach the end of it, I drop down on hands and knees and crawl, turning to brace myself against the wall next to the door.
“—doesn’t make any sense,” Sitri’s voice rings out. His irritation has turned into full-blown fury. I almost feel bad for the healer, having been at the receiving end of it myself. “I’ve never even heard of a connection between anthropophagic magic and—“
“Afraid that was your family’s doing. They did everything they could to change popular opinion after King Beldric succumbed. Didn’t want the public to know what he’d been practicing.”
“King Beldric lost himself altering into a wolf, not a Bonewalker.”
A Bonewalker?
“That’s what they wanted people to believe but the truth of it is known in healer circles. Why do you think they eradicated anthropophagic magic?”
“She didn’t even—she didn’t even ingest it. The heart. I dispersed it.”
“She must’ve taken some. Usually, it takes repeated exposure, but they say it highly depends on how long the Bonewalker has had to amass power. It’s become so rare no one really knows the finer details. You must’ve come close to one when you were journeying here. I’m surprised you didn’t feel it. You’re lucky you didn’t, or you’d likely be one yourself.”
There’s a long moment of silence before Sitri finally gruffs, “Tell me what I need to do.”
“We need to get her to a confined location. I’d love to run a few assessments before since it is so rare. We’ll probably have to administer the deadly nightshade intravenously. I doubt she’ll be able to ingest anything in this state.” He snorts. “Fitting name though isn’t it, Nightshade? She’ll alter as soon as her heart stops beating, so we’ll have to be quick. They say the effects of the magic can be extremely strong but not as strong if they don’t succumb to the disease naturally. Best to get a Mask to dispense of it in case it goes awry. We’ll burn the corpse, of course.”
“No, no, no. No.” Sitri’s boots thump against the floorboards and stop. “No. Tell me how tofix it.”
