The Perfect Dish (34 page)

“Pity you haven’t the strength to get through, old friend. If you hadn’t gorged on that second helping of oats, you might be standing next to me—”

Dragon burst from the gate with enormous force, knocking his master back. Ertemis stifled his laughter as the beast pawed the ground indignantly, snorting and stomping his still-muffled hooves. “All right, hush, you’ve proved me wrong.”

He righted himself and shook the dirt from his cloak. He reached for Dragon’s front hoof and stripped the wrapping off, working his way around until all four were freed. After stuffing the wraps in his pack, he adjusted the cinch on his scarred black leather saddle.

Haemus coughed again. “That’s quite a piece of horseflesh ya got there.”

“Do not refer to my fine equine friend as ‘horse flesh’, unless you prefer to deal with him directly.” Humans were such bothersome creatures.

Dragon tossed his head and snorted.

Eyeing the horse, the merchant swallowed hard. “Does the beast understand what yer...never mind. My apologies. Dint mean any disrespect.”

“Fine.” Ertemis held his hand out. “My coin.”

“About that...” Haemus rubbed his scarred hands together. “I have another proposition for ya.”

* * *

Jessalyne awoke with a start, the remnants of the same familiar nightscare fading as she remembered her patient. Corah and her very pregnant mother sat at Orit’s bedside. Elegant in a robe of pale green linen, Lady Dauphine held Orit’s small hoof and whispered soothing words to her sleeping son. She gazed at her child with a tenderness that made Jessalyne’s heart ache.

“I’m sorry, I meant to stay awake with him.” She’d fallen asleep perched on the stool, head against the wall, the shawl still draped around her shoulders. She rubbed her neck.

Corah nodded. “I’m sure you needed the sleep. Papa left already to attend the morning council.”

“Orit should have a mug of willow broth.” Jessalyne arched her back, trying to wake up.

“I’ll make it.” Corah headed to the kitchen.

“He will be fine.” Jessalyne tried to comfort Dauphine. “He just needs rest.” The words rang false even to her own ears.

Dauphine kept her gaze on her son, her hand trembling slightly as she caressed his head. “He is very warm.”

Jessalyne rubbed at the stiffness in her neck again. “It might be best if you gave me a moment to check his wound.”

With a soft grunt and a hand under her belly, Dauphine pushed to her feet and joined Corah in the kitchen.

Once alone, Jessalyne pressed the back of her fingers against the little fawn’s nose. Fever burned through him. She pulled the coverlet back and flinched. The gash on Orit’s flank puffed around the stitches and oozed yellow fluid. A sick-sweet odor filled her nose and knotted her stomach.

No poultice or balm alone could fix this. Thoughts of the cervidae who’d been bitten last season by a water serpent filled Jessalyne’s head. Tyber had forbid her to use magic. The elder buck had died. She recovered Orit and went into the kitchen.

“He isn’t healing like he should. I need to...to try something else. Something Lord Tyber may not like.” Something I may not be able to control.

Dauphine blanched in comprehension, more tears spilling. “I’ll speak with him.”

“I’ll wait for his decision then.”

“Nay,” Dauphine’s voice wavered. “Don’t wait. I’ll make Tyber understand.”

She closed her eyes briefly. “Can you heal him, with your...gifts?”

“I can only try.” Jessalyne wished she could promise more.

“Please do your best. He is our only son.” She cupped her very pregnant belly. “So far.”

Another tear slanted down Dauphine’s cheek and Jessalyne started forward to hug her. Dauphine shifted back out of reach.

Jessalyne dropped her hands to her side. “I didn’t mean...”

Sadness softened Dauphine’s tone. “I know.” Hesitantly, she put her arms around Jessalyne.

The rare contact nearly brought Jessalyne to tears. She inhaled. The scent of new earth and sun perfumed the expectant mother. She felt the faint kick of Dauphine’s unborn babe. If the woman was willing to touch her, Jessalyne knew how desperate she must be.

Jessalyne pulled out of the embrace, knowing what the contact cost Dauphine.

“I will heal him.” Jessalyne prayed her words weren’t a lie.

Once Dauphine and Corah were gone, she checked on the sleeping fawn again. “I’ll be back soon,” she promised.

She headed through the garden and into the woods behind the house. There a grove of tall, fragrant rowan trees encircled a moss-carpeted patch of ground. A solitary stone marked her mother’s resting place.

“I wish you were here, Mama. I need you. There’s so much I don’t know, and now a life rests in my charge. I wish you’d left me books to teach me about this magic. I know it comes from you.”

Her sigh disappeared on the wind. “I don’t know if I will heal Orit or hurt him, but I have to try.” The lingering sensation of Dauphine’s arms around her sharpened the pang of missing her mother.

She wrapped her arms around herself but it was a cold comfort. “I hate this useless, misplaced feeling. I hate it!”

Clenching her fists, she struggled to calm herself. “It can’t be this power is just for lighting candles and warming bath water.

“If I heal him, maybe the cervidae won’t be so afraid of me. Maybe they’ll be willing to touch me.”

Her voice quieted. “Not that it matters.”

She dropped to her knees in the grass. “Dauphine hugged me today, Mama. That’s the first time anyone’s held me since you died. I can’t live like this. I can’t. I have to leave, Mama. I need to. I need to go somewhere people aren’t afraid of me.”

Jessalyne knelt with her arms outstretched. She willed the leaf-filtered sun to melt her doubts and strengthen her spirit for the work ahead.

Orit showed no change when she returned.

There was no reason to delay. She waved her hand and lit the beeswax candles in the wall sconces. After easing the coverlet back, she stood at the footboard and blocked out all but the wounded child. Occasional moans punctuated his ragged breaths.

The room blurred as she focused on Orit’s innocent face, on his small body racked with fever and infection, and the angry seeping gash. Heavy magic prickled her skin as power flowed through her.

She closed her eyes and visualized Orit’s flank perfect and blemish free. In her mind, she saw him healthy and well in both his human and deer forms.

Holding her hands over him, she wished she could bear his injury herself. She imagined his wound as her own. Heat coursed over her in rippling waves, lifting the hair off her face. Sweat trickled down her spine. A shard of pain stabbed her side. Orit’s hurt was hers for one long, hard moment and then dissolved, extinguishing the fire within her as it faded.

The heat drained out of her and she wobbled, her balance gone. She opened her eyes but couldn’t focus. She clutching for the footboard, as her knees give way. She dropped to the floor with a sharp crack. She gasped and her eyes watered at the jolt.

On all fours, she tried to catch her breath. She blinked, unable to clear her vision. Then she heard a child’s voice.

“Lady Jessalyne?”

She tipped her head up, the action spinning another wave of dizziness through her.

“Lady Jessalyne, are you sick?” A blurry Orit stood before her, in his human form.

Small hands wrapped around her waist trying to help her up. She laughed weakly.

“Orit, Orit...” Her voice trailed off as she pulled the boy against her and hugged him, kissing his little cheeks. He squirmed out of her embrace.

She studied him, searching for a mark. Nothing remained of the wound.

“What’s wrong, Lady Jessalyne?”

“Nothing...absolutely nothing.” Cool relief filled her as she collapsed to the floor.

* * *

End of Excerpt

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Heart Of Fire
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