Being fated mates couldn’t possibly beat what we have.
“I love you,” I say, before spitting the bad taste out of my mouth. “I wouldn’t let anyone else see me like this.”
“I love you, too.” Quinn finger-combs my hair, gently scraping my scalp. “We’ll get through this. I already feel better.” Her motions stop before she frantically pats my shoulder. “Wait—no, I don’t.”
And then it’s her turn again.
A minute later, there’s knocking. “That must be the doctor.”
Quinn gropes my leg as I get up. “Don’t go without me.”
I love how she’s so desperate to stay near me. Mentally fighting off my own sickness, I will my guts to stop churning as I pick her up. I kiss her forehead, not caring that it’s clammy. She sighs as she lays her head on my shoulder.
After placing her on the bed, I answer the door. I sense a small male troll in front of me. He snaps his suspenders and lifts his glasses up on his nose. I smell antiseptic coming from his leather bag.
“Your Majesty, Doctor Whittle here. I am at your service.”
“Thank you.” I move so he can pass by me. “Treat my mate first.”
“I need that trash can,” Quinn says, panicked.
Before I have a chance to retrieve it for her, the doctor is already at the bedside, catching her latest round of vomit.
“That’s it, dear,” he encourages gently. “Get it all out.”
I grab a clean cloth for her from the bathroom and sit on the edge of the bed. While she wipes her mouth, Doctor Whittle opens his bag.
“Do you need to do, like, a blood tessst or s-something?” Quinn slurs and her slow speech has me concerned.
“What’s wrong?” I reach out to feel her face, and her skin is hot under my palm.
“I-I think I’m getting a f-fever,” she says, shivering.
“No blood test required,” Doctor Whittle answers patiently. “Wow, you got a lot out.” He actually sounds happy as he holds up the bucket. “I have everything I need right here.”
“Oh. You’re going to test that?” Quinn sounds disgusted.
He chuckles. “Yes. The proof is in the puke.”
The doctor hums a cheerful tune as he digs around in his bag. When he finds what he’s looking for, he pops a cork.
A second later, flames erupt from the bucket in a scorching burst. Quinn yelps. Heat kisses my skin, but it’s gone just as fast as it came.
Standing, I palm my axe. “What the fuck was that?”
“Aha!” the doctor says, ignoring the fact that I might take a swing at his head. “I suspected this. Singed my eyebrows off, too.”
“Suspected what?” I demand, impatient.
“When ingested, stardust can make any creature very ill.”
“We were poisoned with stardust? How do you know?”
“I put a drop of distilled Day Realm water in the bucket.”
I have no idea what that has to do with anything. “I’m not following.”
“Distilled Day water is extremely concentrated and more acidic. What happens when you put normal Day water with stardust? Light,” he answers his own question. “Now multiply that reaction by a hundred. When the two are mixed together, things go boom.”
“I’ve never heard of Day water being distilled. Is that some kind of secret they’re keeping over in the Day Realm?” Feeling dizzy, I sink to the edge of the mattress.
“Oh, yes. It’s a recent discovery, though.” He shakes the bottle and the liquid sloshes inside. “They have a new distillery set up and it’s a hot commodity. Would you believe it takes ten barrels of regular water just to make this little flask?”
“Why go through all that work? What’s the reward? Explosions?”
“Well, that, and…” Pausing, Doctor Whittle adjusts the glasses on his nose. “It has healing properties, when used correctly. But most of all… drinking it amplifies fae abilities.”
A magical drink that can be used for warfare, healing, and strength. In the hands of the wrong fae, it could be very dangerous.
If I wasn’t already sitting down, I’d probably fall on my ass.
“Someone put stardust in the soup?” Quinn pipes up, missing the significance of what the doctor just revealed. “Are we going to die?”
“No,” Doctor Whittle scoffs. “You might feel like you want to, but this should pass by morning. Just don’t drink distilled Day water while the stardust is still in your system. Or else—”
“Boom,” I interject, wanting to save Quinn from the gory details. “I get it.”
Troubled, I wipe the sweat from my brow.
A mystery has been solved. It makes sense now. The bomb in the carriage could’ve been due to this combination. It wasn’t a matter of magic, but of chemistry. Simple science.
A horrifying thought hits me as I cover Quinn’s hand. “Did you drink any of your water at dinner?”
She pauses to think. “No. I’d just had the rest of the waterfall mist before we came inside. I was hungry so I went for the soup first. I started to feel sick before I got thirsty. Do you—do you think someone put the distilled water in my cup?”
Yes. Maybe. Probably.
I hate to consider the possibility, but it adds up. If my suspicions are right, whoever we’re dealing with is ruthless and clever.
Exploding from the inside out would’ve been one of the most gruesome deaths I’ve ever heard of. The thought of such a thing happening to Quinn makes my heart lurch in protest.
Slipping a gold coin to Doctor Whittle, I instruct him to go downstairs to see if Quinn’s glass is still on the table. If so, he’s to test it.
I pace the room, my guts churning and cramping as I wait for his return.
When he comes back several minutes later, he has no answers for me. The dining room has already been cleaned by local business owners who pitched in to help. Any evidence is gone.
I drop two more coins into his hand. “Thank you. Please check on King Damon across the hall next, then tend to my men.”
“Will do. I’m going to leave you with some diluted Grevillea nectar for when you’re ready to rehydrate.” A
