Empress Aki and her Imperial Guards emerged. One of them noticed Sora was injured. “I’ll get her some bandages,” he said.
He returned a few minutes later and dressed her wounds. Sora breathed into his touch. It was actually helpful to have someone else with her, grounding her as she focused intensely on the saws.
She began again. The wall trembled, and the Ora crest glinted in the faint light of the impending sunrise.
The saws neared the bottom. Sora’s eyes began to cross; the concentration was taxing.
And then, the last, final slice.
She exhaled deeply and closed her eyes for a moment. Then she turned to Empress Aki. “Your Majesty, we have our magnifying glass.”
“Excellent. Can you get it down to the Citadel?”
Sora was tired, but she nodded. There would be time for rest later. “I’ll use magic to levitate it down the hill.”
Empress Aki looked up at the purpling sky to gauge the time. “You go on ahead. I just need to do one thing here at the palace. I want to go to Sola’s temple to pray.”
“But—”
“Don’t worry. I have some Imperial Guards with me, and I’ll leave by way of the secret tunnels again. You need to get to the Citadel, though. It’s imperative that you arrive before my brother’s army does, if you are to have them all in one place at the fortress gates to blind them.”
Sora didn’t like the idea of leaving the empress behind. But she was the sovereign, which meant Sora didn’t really have a choice. Besides, Empress Aki’s reasoning made sense, and she did have a contingent of Imperial Guards, the best warriors in the kingdom.
“All right, Your Majesty. Be safe. I’ll see you back at the Citadel soon.”
Chapter Sixty-Four
Fairy slipped into Bullfrog’s room the same way Broomstick had—through the window. She’d stopped by the dormitory to grab vials of wood-ear mushroom powder and swallow’s saliva, which could be combined to form an antidote to genka. Unfortunately, she didn’t have much wood ear; her old stash was in the satchel she’d given to Spirit, and Fairy hadn’t had time since to forage for more.
I hope what I have is enough to wake Daemon.
As soon as she was inside Bullfrog’s quarters, she found her way to the bedroom and slid open the closet door.
“Oh, Wolfie,” she said, as she saw him slumped in a heap on top of the spare bedding. It was a little sad to see him like this, a ferocious, wild animal from the woods reduced to a grinning fool with spit dribbling down his chin.
It was almost the same as what had happened to her. Fairy may not be an orphan raised by wolves, but she was pretty formidable too. And she’d also been completely disarmed, a trophy for the Dragon Prince to carry victoriously in his arms.
“I understand sacrifices must be made for the greater good, but let’s not do it like this,” she said, partly to herself, partly to Wolf. “Idle drooling really doesn’t suit the League of Rogues.”
Quickly, she poured the wood-ear powder into an empty vial, then used a dropper to add half an ounce of swallow’s saliva. The concoction let off a noxious brown cloud that stunk of steaming-hot cow dung.
Fairy wrinkled her nose as she carried it over to the closet. “I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to drink this.”
He kept snoring quietly.
She turned him onto his back and tried to pry open his lips with her free hand. “Wolf. Open your mouth.”
“Mm mm mmmm.” He kept his lips firmly pursed.
Fairy swirled the vial of wood ear and swallow’s spit. Its odor had shifted from fresh dung to fertilizer now. Slightly mellower, but still awful.
“I don’t have the patience for this. Sorry. Again.” She kicked Wolf hard in the side, and he opened his mouth as if yelping, although no sound came out. She poured the contents of the vial onto his tongue. Then she smacked her hand over his mouth so he couldn’t spit it out.
He struggled but finally swallowed. She removed her hand from his mouth.
Wolf’s voice came back to him, a bit muddled, and he started singing nonsense. “Ba dij do, Ba dij pa-kow . . .”
“Come on, come on, come on,” Fairy said. “Please work.” She looked at her completely empty vial of wood ear, but even if it was enough to counteract the genka, there was still a chance it wouldn’t work. After all, Spirit had been the one who was actually injected with genka.
Suddenly, Wolf gasped. He blinked. Then he looked up and smiled groggily.
“It’s really unfair that you’re so damnably handsome, even when you’re drugged,” Fairy said. “You’re lucky I have a great deal of restraint.”
He laughed, but it came out a bit sluggishly. “You made me a genka antidote.”
“You’re very observant.”
“And you’re awake. The rira wore off.”
“Again, very observant. It would’ve been hard for me to make you an antidote if I was in a coma.”
He sighed. “Glad you’re okay. You were so brave . . . at the bluff.” His eyelids fluttered shut. “Still sleepy. Miss the sparkly green dragons.”
“No.” Fairy shook him. “If you fall back asleep, I swear to the gods, I will kiss you against your wishes.”
“I should definitely fall asleep then.”
Fairy’s heart skittered, like a hound’s at the start of a foxhunt. Was he actually flirting back? Wolf never did that. He always shrugged aside her comments as if they were jokes.
She looked at his lips. They were very kissable. And then she remembered the day this past summer, when she’d seen him stepping out of one of the deep soaking tubs in the bathhouse (yes, she’d been in the towel closet with a conquest, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to look at other boys too). The water had beaded on Wolf’s broad shoulders and dripped off the planes of his chest down to where the towel was wrapped around his waist . . .
Stop it. He’s your roommate’s gemina, she told herself.
“Come on,” Fairy said, pulling Wolf to his feet. She retrieved another small glass vial from her belt, took his hand, and poured a small handful of what looked like little brown rocks into his palm. “Here, eat these.”
He wobbled while trying to stand. “What are they?”
“Cocoa nibs. Highly caffeinated.”
“Ah.” Wolf popped them into his mouth. The nibs would hopefully counteract the last of the genka’s effects.
He shook his head at the bitterness and blinked a few times, eyes bright and clear. Then he tilted his head as he looked down at Fairy.
She wrinkled her nose. “What are you staring at?”
“You’re alive. You’re awake.”
Fairy waved him off. “We already went over this.”
But he kept staring. “I worried . . . we worried that you might not have survived. I wanted to believe that you were safe, but we just didn’t know. And over the past few days, I couldn’t stop thinking about the feel of you in my arms in the desert, the life in you like a flame, and I . . .”
A silent hum began to build in the air between them, the kind of subtle vibration that only the two people involved can perceive. The thrill of the start of a foxhunt flitted through Fairy’s chest again.