A sham, nothing but a sham. Lofty’s clumsy kiss had been more genuine than her mind-meld with Roberto.
But Gods, how she loved him. How she wanted him back.
Master of mental faculties, well, he’d proven that. He’d mastered melding and fooling her, easily. By the Egg, she was so ignorant. So trusting, so easy to dupe into love.
Only it wasn’t love. It was a lie.
His lie. The master of lies, deceit and murder.
She ran, her feet pounding a tattoo into the stone floors to Jaevin’s door. Hopefully, the dragon’s bane hadn’t finished Roberto’s work. Hopefully, they had a chance …
Ezaara knocked.
A woman opened the door, wisps of sweat-drenched hair clinging to her worry-creased brow. She started. “What do you want?” she snapped. “Have you come to gloat?”
“Who is it?” a feeble male voice called.
“The one who poisoned you,” the woman spat, pushing the door to shut it.
Ezaara jammed her foot in the gap, so the woman couldn’t shut her door. “They’ve banished someone else. It wasn’t me,” she shot, her chest squeezing as she pictured Roberto’s face. Shards, no! It was him. “I have the antidote. I can save Master Jaevin.”
“I’m not letting you near my husband. You’ll probably give him more dragon’s bane.” Jaevin’s wife shoved on the door, but Ezaara held it fast.
“Threcia, let her in,” Jaevin called. “I’m dying. If she finishes me off, at least I’ll be out of my misery. But you never know, she might just save me. Any remedy is worth trying.”
“Master Jaevin,” Ezaara called. “I’ve been trained as a healer. I don’t kill people—I save them, if I can.”
“Go on, Threcia, please.” Jaevin sounded exhausted.
His wife looked dubious. “Come in, then.” Threcia barely held the door open wide enough for Ezaara to squeeze through.
Jaevin lay in a makeshift bed, in their living area, near a stoked fire. His face was pale and his breathing raspy. Ezaara felt his forehead—cool, but beaded in sweat.
“He’s cold, always cold,” said Threcia, tugging his blanket up. “And his breathing’s shallow.”
“What did Fleur give you?”
“This tea.” Threcia thrust a cup at her.
Ezaara sniffed it. Woozy weed—a sleeping draft. No use against dragon’s bane. “Did she give you any other remedies?”
“This, against the pain in his chest.” Threcia passed her a tonic. Again, to ease a symptom, not the cause.
Dragon’s bane made the airways, throat and lungs tighten and slowly close down. If the dose was strong enough, the victim would die within a day. Without an antidote, there was no chance of survival.
Roberto had done this.
It didn’t make sense. His kind gifts, his tenderness, love and wonder when they’d melded …
But he’d looked every bit a hardened killer as he’d confessed, spurning her and the realm. He’d taken advantage of her ignorance. A slow burning anger spread through her, each thud of her heart a count of the ways he’d fooled her.
“Jaevin, can you swallow?”
He nodded, face pale, lips tinged blue. Threcia’s eyes were locked on his face, shiny with tears. This was true love, tested over years, not the flashy show of emotion Ezaara had felt for her master.
“Threcia, get Vino to warm a third of a cup of water.”
Threcia rushed off and was back within moments. Ezaara mixed eight pinches of antidote—a pale green powder made of finely crushed rubaka leaves—stirring until it had dissolved, then propped Jaevin up and helped him drink.
Once he’d swallowed the last drop, she sat, holding his wrist where the veins ran across the bone, feeling his heartbeat. Now that she’d administered the antidote, Ezaara fought her urge to rush out the door. She had to make sure this worked. Jaevin’s life was more important than what was happening to Roberto.
Deep in the bowels of the caverns, a drum boomed. Then another. The stone under Ezaara’s chair pulsed like a dragon’s heartbeat, the floor resonating with a deep cadence that throbbed through her boot soles. Waves of sound kept rolling around them. The mournful keening of a dragon was a sad counterpoint to the drums’ rhythm.
“The banishment drums.” Threcia’s gaze softened. “I’m glad it wasn’t you.”
“Who poisoned me?” Jaevin wheezed.
“Master Roberto.” Ezaara’s voice cracked.
“No,” Jaevin whispered, face lined with shock. “No, not Roberto, I trusted him.”
Exactly. Ezaara hardened her heart. She couldn’t allow space for traitors. She mixed another draft and put it on the table. “Drink this in two hours.”
Jaevin drifted to sleep, his breathing not completely right, but improved. Threcia walked her to the door and clasped Ezaara’s hands. “Thank you.”
“Please don’t mention I’ve been here. If anyone else comes by, tell them he’s sleeping.”
Threcia narrowed her eyes. “Why? Master Roberto will be gone.”
Gone. He flashed to mind, standing calf-deep in the water, eyes golden in the sunlight. Laughing and carefree as they’d raced together as riders of fire, his love washing over her. She’d never see him again. A pang shot through Ezaara, as strong as Alban’s stomach punch. No! She fought it. He was a traitor. It was good riddance. “Keep Master Jaevin safe until he’s fully recovered. He’ll be weak for a few days, and it may be a while before he’s himself again. Until then, it’s best he doesn’t have visitors.” Especially Fleur, who was as good as useless. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours to check on him, after you’ve given him the draft.”
Threcia kissed Ezaara, her tears spilling onto Ezaara’s cheek. “Thank you for saving his life.”
It was a healer’s duty to save lives, not take them. “I’m glad I could help.”
“The Egg bless your mother for teaching you. I don’t
