They’re not good men. They wanted to hurt me.
The bodies lay in the heat of the day, and she knew the smell would be putrid. One lay with their head bitten off. She numbed herself to it, as she had to do this if she wanted to be considered worthy of the shifters.
The more allies she had, the better.
She rummaged through the pockets and held her breath, as if it might help her concentrate. Nothing. She moved onto the second and her fingers brushed against glass, grabbing it. She pulled out a small vial and hurried away from the dead, eyeing the thick, green gel inside.
“Thank you, gran,” Rem said to herself, staring at the antidote.
Her gran had acquired the Scentless Basil on an adventure a few years prior, and it was the main ingredient in the jar that she held. It wasn’t really basil, but it resembled the leaf well enough, although its bright green color gave away that it belonged to the world of magic.
The leaf had been ground up, its oils used for the antidote, giving it the green color while the poison was clear. It masked scents, prompting the hunters to frequently visit for fresh batches. Harvesting it required her father and gran to travel for two months out of the year, just to visit where it grew.
Now that Rem thought of it, she was amazed her father and gran ventured into the wild so easily. So far, the world outside the witching border had proven to be entirely deadly.
“What is that? And why are you thanking your gran?” Nia asked, looking at Rem like she might sit her down and force her to take a nap.
“It’s an antidote to the poison that’s in Ronan’s body. My family ran an apothecary, and my gran was well-traveled and helped make antidotes, and even poisons, for hunters.”
Rem stared at the vial for a sentimental moment; this perhaps came directly from home.
It immensely comforted her.
Nia looked around, thinking that over before narrowing her eyes. “Well, that’s convenient,” Nia said. “And kind of suspicious.”
Rem furrowed her brows, shaking her head. “Wait, what?”
Nia arched one brow, warily eyeing the small jar. “We are naturally skeptical of foreign treatments like this. I mean… Please don’t take this personally, but it crossed my mind to wonder if you’re working with the hunters—no, I know, please. I don’t think that now, but if I did at first, then it will cross the minds of others as well.”
Rem’s jaw dropped, not taking that well. These shifters had an Elder Witch among them, a Clan betrayal, and here they were, eyeing Rem as ifshewere the enemy? It gutted her more than she expected. “I—No… Are you serious?”
Nia looked down in an aversion of eye contact like she did with those ranking higher than her. “I only want to bring it up because someone mentioned it while the hunters took you just now. I told them it’s probably not true. But the others will see this as suspicious.”
Rem, wearied and in pain, considered just leaving the gel behind. Something like this was information that her gran spent decades acquiring, and here Rem was, contemplating giving the shifters her family’s secrets, all so they could suspect her for something so opposite of the truth.
Her comfort faded, and she suddenly felt very alone.
Rem glanced back at Ronan once more; he was already watching her.
Her heart pounded against her ribcage, and she maintained eye contact only for a moment before looking down. No, she would do this for him, as a personal thank you. If he hadn’t come for her just now, then she would have been completely removed from Oliver.
With that, she neared the Alpha, gel in hand.
10
SMALL TRUTHS AND REVELATIONS
R E M
Rem pushedpast the pain in her leg, many eyeing her with distrust.
Ronan sat on a log, a familiar scrutiny in his gaze as she neared him. The Alpha ignored the dozen that surrounded him. She glanced periodically at him, trying her best to control her fresh limp. When close enough, he looked down at her hand, visually inspecting what she carried. The effect of the poison on his pectoral already began to fester, his skin turning green around the wound.
Rem truly grasped how formidable Ronan was as he sat there, the poison slowly working on him. Her father told her that the poison was as deadly as silver and worked faster in violent ways, and yet Ronan appeared only encumbered by it, even having carried her all that way while enduring that wound.
Once she was within a few feet of him, she kneeled, tensing from her throbbing calf but not letting the pain interrupt her.
Pausing to see if he would say something, Rem opened the jar and took a glob of the healing gel and reached out. No one moved. “It’s for your shoulder,” Rem said, moving the gel closer to show him.
