What Lurks Between the Fates (Of Flesh & Bone, #3)(28)

The Old Tongue fell from her lips, the words an incantation as the liquid spun within the goblet almost as if it held its own current. Steam billowed from the top of the cup, slowly rising until it kissed the palm of her hand. Imelda’s eyes flung open. From my view, I could only see the white in her eye as it opened. A shining light pulsed for a single moment before her pupil faded back to its normal, lustrous shade.

“Drink,” she ordered, and the stern look on her face left me little room to argue. I brought the cup to my mouth, letting the flavor pass over my tongue as it slid down my throat.

“Have you seen Fallon?” I asked as I handed back the cup.

She took it and placed it upon the table as she set to grinding fresh herbs in her mortar. She added water as needed, forming a paste of some sort.

She merely shook her head, focused on her work. Fallon was the smartest of all of us when it came to her ability to blend in and survive. She would be the least likely to anger Mab out of the three of us, minding her tongue when I seemed to be incapable of it.

“I don’t suspect either of us will be allowed to see her any time soon. If Mab is trying to keep a close eye on her, she’ll keep her locked away from you,” Imelda answered.

Imelda slid the blade across her wrist, letting blood steadily drip into the mortar.

I gasped. “What are you doing?”

I vaulted to my feet, grabbing a cloth from the table and reaching for her wrist. She accepted it with a sad smile, wrapping it around her wound and tying it off in a way that showed me she’d done such things far too often.

“Head wounds are tricky beasts and can cause far more damage than we can see. This will make sure there are no lasting consequences for the damage done to you.”

She stepped around me, the cloth at her wrist staining red from her blood.

“You’ll bleed out.”

“I am a witch, Estrella. I cannot die from a mortal wound,” she explained, her fingers pressing against the bump at the back of my head. I winced, my entire head throbbing.

“But the witches on the beach…” I trailed off.

“Your snake strangled one, squeezed the life from her body. It was not the action of a natural snake, but one you enchanted to do your bidding. There is magic involved in such things, and only the magic of another creature or the complete draining of our own magic can end the life of a witch,” she said, applying a thick coating of the paste to the bump. “Leave this on overnight and wash it in the morning. It should help with your headache and the swelling.”

“Okay,” I said, knowing I would follow her instructions. There wasn’t a chance I would let her sacrifice and the pain she must feel from cutting herself be in vain.

She stepped around me to my front, applying what remained of the paste to the cut on my cheekbone. “Tell me what you know of the Fae,” she said, staring down at me. Her mouth set into a hard line, and her lips pursed as she waited for my response. Her fingers were gentle despite the impatience on her face, carefully dabbing the poultice into the valley of my wound.

“That they’re horrific creatures I should fear,” I said, my tone rising incredulously. I couldn’t turn away from her heated stare, the crescent upon her forehead keeping me bewitched.

Imelda rolled her eyes finally, dropping her fingers from my wound and wiping them upon a cloth she pulled from her pack. “The Fae operate under their own set of rules. Some of them will apply to you, others will not—now that we know you are not human in the least. As a Fae, do not say something three times unless you mean to hold true to your word. The law of three makes it binding, and the only way to break that vow is through death. The same goes for blood vows. They hold more meaning now and are unbreakable; you will owe a favor, and that is not something you ever want to owe anyone here,” she said, her voice trailing off as she glanced toward the door.

She knew as well as I did that our time was limited before the guards snatched her away. I wanted to ask why she’d even come, but I didn’t need to. She would go wherever Fallon and I went. Such was our bond; we were somehow connected in ways we didn’t understand.

“The Fae can’t lie,” I said, adding another rule to her list. I supposed that must have applied to me now, leaving me incapable of muttering untruths.

“But they can dance around the truth in ways you may never realize until it is too late. Less is more. As you cannot lie, try not to speak at all. A hardship for you, I know,” she said with a little smile.

My skin buzzed with warmth, the flesh slowly feeling as if it was beginning to heal. I had so many questions about the magic of the witches and how it compared to the magic of the Fae, why the witch’s magic seemed capable of working through the blockade of the iron that kept my magic at bay.

“Never, ever give a Faerie your name. It gives them power over you. Withhold it as long as you can, though I doubt it will be possible to keep it a secret for long. One slip from Caldris, Fallon, or I, and your name will be known, but there is one rule we haven’t discussed that you must abide,” Imelda said as the sound of keys jangled just outside the door.

“What?” I asked, my voice a hurried whisper.

The key slid into the lock, and time seemed to slow as Imelda hurried to tell me the last rule.

“Never accept a gift from a Faerie, and if they give you one by force, do not, under any circumstances, thank them for it. It implies gratitude, and that is something they can use to call upon a debt in the future. If Mab gives you a gift, you are not to be grateful for it. You are to remain indifferent, even if she offers you water when you’re dying of thirst. Do you understand?” Imelda said as the door opened.