Page 38 of Fae Mates

“Nightsbane would have diverted some of young Pokeweed’s magic to heal those.”

“Then why is he unconscious?” I asked.

Healer Tarax shook his head. “Whoever did this to Pokeweed must have also placed him in a deep sleep, expecting someone to revive him with effervescent salts.”

My throat dried, and I stared down at Pokeweed, who looked so peaceful. “And that’s bad?”

“For someone under the influence of nightsbane, it means a quick and painful death. If I revived him, he would have three hours of peace before the nightsbane consumed his body.”

McVittie narrowed his yellow eyes. “It’s a good thing you knew to check for that poison, then.”

Healer Tarax flinched at the suspicion in the cat’s words. “It was a favorite in the Court of Queen Maeve until people started getting paranoid about being in excellent health. I check patients for it routinely.”

I sat on the edge of Pokeweed’s bed and clutched my churning stomach. Condemning someone to a painful death went beyond hatred for their physical appearance. This was probably the work of the Duke of Nevermore, who wanted revenge on Pokeweed for having been born.

“What’s the antidote?” I stared at Healer Tarax’s medicine bag, which he still hadn’t opened.

The white-haired faerie’s posture drooped, and he clasped his hands over his solar plexus. “There is none,” he said in a broken voice. “The best I can do for Pokeweed is to hope that he doesn’t awaken.”

Pain rippled through my insides. This couldn’t be right. Pokeweed hadn’t done anything to hurt anyone. He was just a gardener who did odd jobs around the academy and only defended himself when the bullying got physical.

Palpitations seized my heart in several clenching blows. I doubled over, my ears ringing, my eyes stinging.

“No.” The word came out in a strangulated cry, and I gazed up at Healer Tarax, my only source of hope.

He bowed his head, breaking off eye-contact. “If it’s any consolation, Pokeweed won’t feel any pain in his unconscious state. When the poison has done its job, he will simply crumble into dust.”

Chapter 10

Despair crushed my spirits like an avalanche, and I leaned forward, resting my head in my hands. My best hope of saving Pokeweed was the wishbone, but I had no chance of breaking Lady Gala’s curse on the princes without Pokeweed’s help.

“You can’t let him die,” I said.

Healer Tarax patted me on the shoulder, but I barely felt his touch. My entire body had become numb, save for the stinging of my eyes, and the crumbling of my heart.

“Even if I knew of a cure for nightsbane, whoever poisoned him will strike again,” said the doctor. “It takes a very powerful and skilled user of magic to administer it in a way that doesn’t poison anyone else.”

I raised my head. “It was the Duke of Nevermore.”

The healer cleared his throat and stared down at me with watery eyes. Maybe he knew something of Pokeweed’s parentage. Maybe he didn’t want to speak badly of someone so highly ranked within the Royal Court. Whatever his silence meant, he was either unable or unwilling to do any more for Pokeweed.

Eventually he said, “I’m afraid that young Pokeweed had several enemies in the guard.” His words were so slow, so carefully enunciated that it was obvious that he was being vague enough not to get himself into trouble. “For reasons I cannot fathom, they found his breeding an affront to all things high faerie.”

“Nothing wrong with fur,” said McVittie. “I thought Pokeweed was very handsome.”

I swallowed hard at the cat’s referring to Pokeweed in the past tense.

Healer Tarax shrugged. “Unfortunately, high faeries don’t share your aesthetics.”

Pokeweed’s chest stilled, and I placed my hand over his heart to check that he was still alive. A slow, steady beat reverberated against my palm, almost like he was asleep. Had this been how he had felt when Lady Gala had attacked me? I couldn’t imagine sitting at someone’s bedside for three months, wondering if they would ever open their eyes.

“Can you wake him and ask which high-ranking faerie was responsible for the attack?” asked McVittie.

“It’s kinder to let him sleep,” replied Healer Tarax. “The last moments of nightsbane are incredibly horrific, and I wouldn’t wish them on such a gentle soul.”

My fists clenched and I ground my teeth until my jaw ached. If I ever got the chance, I would track down every single guard who so much as insulted Pokeweed and send them to the Dark Fae Prison. Those wicked, malicious creatures would suffer ten times the torment they subjected Pokeweed.

A loud bang from upstairs sent a jolt of adrenaline through my veins. Prince August had probably heard us talking and was trying to get free. I glanced at Healer Tarax, who continued to stare down at Pokeweed through sad eyes. Was the ward Pokeweed had set up on the top level of his treehouse still working through his unconscious state?