Crush the King (Crown of Shards #3)(53)
I didn’t know if being poisoned had triggered my nightmarish memory, or if my memory had helped me figure out what the poison was, but I now knew what the DiLucri assassin had dosed me with—blue sperren, the same drug Rocinda had given me all those years ago.
But the strange thing was that blue sperren wasn’t usually fatal. No, it was a paralytic that just made people think you were dead. Combine that with the assassin’s strange words, and how she had seemingly come out of nowhere to join the battle at the very end, and I got the sense that I had been her intended target.
The other assassins had all rushed toward Serilda, but that last woman had hung back and waited for an opportunity to focus on me and me alone. And since she had dosed me with blue sperren, her attack hadn’t been meant to result in my death. At least, not immediately, not right there on the plaza.
I had assumed that Maximus had hired Driscol to send the geldjagers after Serilda, but now I was starting to think there were other forces—other people—at work who had a far different agenda regarding me than the Mortans did. I just wasn’t quite sure what that agenda was yet.
It was probably something far worse than a quick death, though.
I drew in a breath, and several other familiar scents filled my nose. Cold, clean vanilla with a hint of spice. Peony perfume and wet fur. Blood mixed with coldiron. My friends were here.
I was lying in my bed against one wall of the tent, so I sat up, pushing aside the blankets. Sullivan, Paloma, Serilda, Cho, and Captain Auster were standing by the entrance, talking in low voices to a woman with short black hair, hazel eyes, and ebony skin. Aisha, the bone master. The scent of their collective worry filled the tent, as sharp as knives stabbing into my nose. They probably thought that I’d been dying, instead of just being paralyzed.
They didn’t realize that I was sitting up, and I was so tired that I didn’t feel like getting to my feet, so I cleared my throat. They all whipped around.
“Highness!” Sullivan rushed over and dropped to a knee beside me. “You’re awake!”
“Of course I’m awake.” My tongue still felt heavy and numb, so my words slurred a bit. “Why wouldn’t I be awake?”
Aisha also hurried over, bent down, and peered at me, a worried look on her pretty face. “We weren’t sure if you were ever going to wake up. I healed the cut and did my best to cleanse the poison from your system, but you were so stiff and pale, and your lips were so blue . . .” Her voice trailed off, and more worry blasted off her, drowning out her clean, lemony scent.
“It’s okay, Aisha.” I smiled. “You did your job, and I’m much better now. See?”
I tried to get up, but my legs buckled, and I would have fallen, if Sullivan hadn’t reached out and steadied me.
“Take it easy, Evie,” he murmured, helping me sit down. “Just take it easy.”
He only called me Evie when he was truly, deeply concerned, and his hands tightened on my arms as if he wanted to pull me close and never let me go.
After a moment, Sullivan cleared his throat, dropped his hands from my arms, and went back down on his knee beside me. His blue eyes searched mine, and I reached up and cupped his face, stroking my thumb over the prickly stubble that darkened his jaw.
“I’m fine,” I whispered. “Truly.”
He smiled, but worry still sparked in his gaze like a wildfire that refused to be extinguished.
Aisha took hold of my wrist and checked my pulse before peering at my face. “Amazing,” she murmured. “Ten minutes ago your lips were as blue as sapphires, but now they’re back to their normal color. The poison, whatever it was, seems to be completely gone from your body. I didn’t think that I was going to be able to heal it, to heal you.”
She shook her head. “The assassin must not have used the proper dosage.”
Sullivan, Paloma, Serilda, Cho, and Auster didn’t say anything. They knew that my immunity was what had truly saved me. Aisha didn’t know about my power, although she might guess after this episode.
“Or perhaps your healing magic was stronger than the poison,” I lied in a light, unconcerned voice. “Either way, I owe you my life. Thank you, Aisha.”
She bowed her head. “It’s my job, my queen.”
“And you do it very well, especially considering how difficult I so often make it.”
Aisha politely laughed at my joke, but I could almost see the questions spinning around in her mind as she tried to figure out how I had really recovered. She promised to check on me later, then left the tent.
As soon as she was gone, Paloma dropped her hand to the mace on her belt. “We should forget about our other plans, sneak into the Mortan camp tonight, and bash in Maximus’s head,” she growled. “Maeven’s too, and whomever else we can find.”
“I agree with your sentiment, but that would be foolish,” Auster rumbled in a far more reasonable tone. “There’s no way we could sneak a large force into the Mortan camp, much less get close enough to Maximus to kill him. The Mortans are sure to be on high alert now after our earlier attempt in the arena.”
His voice was calm and even, without a hint of accuasation, but everyone looked at Serilda. The scents of her peppery anger and minty regret burned my nose and matched my own emotions.
Serilda stepped forward and dropped into a traditional Bellonan curtsy in front of me. “I’m sorry, my queen,” she said in a low, strained voice. “I don’t know what happened. I coated the arrow with wormroot and aimed it at Maximus’s throat in case he was wearing any armor under his clothes. All the arrow had to do was scratch him, and the poison would have killed him.”