Page 8 of Fae Mates

Relief crossed his features. “I had feared that Prince Caulden had caused your injuries.”

I stared up into Pokeweed’s eyes, waiting for further explanation or at least an expression of surprise that his half-sister had nearly committed murder. Without a word, he walked to a table at the far end of the room and picked up a tray containing a jug of steaming water and some smaller ceramic items.

He returned, sat on a stool at my bedside, and placed the tray on his lap. “It was too dangerous to give you a painkiller in this condition,” he said. “Pain is the only path out of the droom enchantment.”

“Droom?” I asked.

“It’s a spell to lock a person into their deepest fantasies. Someone must have wanted your last moments of life to be pleasant.”

A lump formed in my throat. According to the enchantment, I wanted my old life back and a relationship with the princes—an impossible dream. “It could have been one of the princes. They were all with her when she attacked me.”

Pokeweed frowned. “Are you sure about this?”

I chewed on my bottom lip. “McVittie was there, too. Didn’t he tell you?”

“I found it difficult to believe the princes would allow Gala to attack you,” he replied with a trace of bitterness in his voice. Breaking eye contact, Pokeweed looked down at his tray, picked up a mortar and pestle and ground what looked like wood shavings.

Curiosity burned in my chest, which still throbbed from Lady Gala’s attack. I stared down at my lap, trying to picture the last time I had seen the princes. From the sneers on their faces, they each looked like they had wanted me to suffer.

“Who else could have wanted to ease my pain?” I whispered.

Pokeweed’s frown deepened. “Perhaps one of the princes isn’t too deeply under Gala’s thrall.”

“Is thrall some kind of spell?”

He shook his head. “A figure of speech. I’m not sure how she managed to ensnare all four princes, but she has made them all deeply committed to her.”

A lump formed in my throat. “Really?”

“They fawn over Gala at mealtimes, each vying for her attention.”

“Even Prince Rory?” I asked.

Pokeweed poured warm water on the ground tree bark and mixed it into a paste. “He seems to love her the most.”

There had to be some kind of trick. If she could steal Helen’s magic to make her and her friends appear like the princes’ fated mates, what would it take for her to force them to love her? “Does she wear a sparkly dress?”

Pokeweed poured a little more water into the pulped wood bark. “Just the usual academy uniform.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. So much for my theory of Lady Gala putting on the Emporium gown.

“Drink this.” Pokeweed brought the bowl to my lips.

I took a sip and winced at the bitter taste. “What is this?”

“A concoction made of willow tree bark. It will ease your pain before I attempt to seal the wound.”

“Wait,” I choked on my mouthful. “Can’t you call Healer Tarax?”

Pokeweed placed a hand on my cheek. “Unity, everyone thinks you’re dead.”

All the breath left my lungs in a single exhale. “What?”

“Don’t blame him.” McVittie hopped onto the foot of my bed and sat on his haunches. “If he didn’t fake your death, they wouldn’t have stopped looking for you.”

I stared into the cat’s yellow eyes, waiting for him to elaborate, but he licked his paw. Instead, I turned to Pokeweed.

His shoulders rose to his ears. “You were still breathing when McVittie called me—”