Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
I exhale, long and deep, as if letting go of something I didn’t know I was holding. The work of my hands, the blood and paste beneath my nails—it isn’t lesser than magic. It’s more. It’s enough.
“Crude healing can save a kingdom.” The words feel heavier in my mouth than I expect. A truth I’ve known—but only now, only here, do I fully understand it.
“Yes,” Florentius agrees simply, without hesitation.
I look at him then—really look at him.
Florentius, who once turned up his nose at my healing.
Florentius, who could have chosen to keep his hands clean.
Florentius, who has suffered at my hands, and still forgave me.
Florentius, my fellow healer. My friend.
His voice is steady, his eyes unwavering. “And I will not be a man who builds my own mansion.”
A long silence passes between us.
And then, a small thing—our lips curl softly at the edges.
Without ceremony, Florentius picks up my freshly made batch and disappears into the courtyard, while I follow, feeling something settle inside me—a truth stronger than my meridians ever were.
The scent of blood and paste lingers under my nails. The work of my hands.
Once, I had thought it lesser. Now, I know.
This is what will save us.
After another hour of infecting the healthy, Father clears his throat. “Make sure you eat,” he says to me, and nods his head towards Quin beside me. “Tell your aklo to bring something from the kitchens.”
I nearly drop the paste. The true king of our people, casually ordered off to fetch food like an obedient aklo. I open my mouth—to correct, to protest—but Quin’s hand finds my arm, an unspoken plea for patience. “I’ll bring anything you need.”
Father nods. “I’m glad you’re at the service of my son.”
I try to interrupt again but this time Quin strokes my arm, placating me. He even bows his head towards my father! “I’ll always be at his service.”
My heart hitches and my throat tightens at the sudden warmth spilling through my body. I look up and his eyes soften on mine as he picks up his resting cane and snaps off towards the kitchens.
I get another five treated before the bell enters our household. Father peels off from the patients and I follow, gesturing to my line that I’ll be right back. The luminist strides grimly towards my father in his slightly glowing robes and rings his bell in his face, as if that’s meant to make him obey. “Cease your unlawful practices immediately. The entire Amuletos household will face trial for this.”
My father speaks with calm confidence. “We are not using linea spells. We are simply helping the people.”
“You’re infecting the healthy!” the luminist shrills. “Such practices are against our laws.”
“This infection is weak; it helps them—”
“You sound just like your father when he stood trial for the same crime!”
I stiffen in the shadows, and my father’s shoulders tense too.
The luminist presses on. “He was lucky it was only his head. This time, your entire household will pay the price.”
“Plague is ripping through our kingdom,” my father says quietly. “Have you nothing better to do?”
“I’m stopping you from harming the people!”
“You are harming them by stopping me!”
The luminist stubbornly rings his bell, denouncing our family to an audience of only me. My father grabs the bell to stop its tolling. The same man who once obeyed every luminist preaching over the health of his own family now looks sternly into the luminist’s eyes. “The law does not outweigh the lives of the people.”
I swallow hard, my knees buckling. My father—the man who punished me for simply reading books on forbidden spells, who wanted to marry me off for fear I’d cause trouble—
“Father,” I breathe, raw and hoarse. “You—”
I don’t know what to say. I don’t have to.
Father glances in my direction. Not directly at me—as if he knows I’m here, as if he understands.
The luminist’s eyes widen and his hands shift, preparing a spell. “You’ll come to the courts with me this instant!”
The spell surges toward Father and my voice cracks as I call out desperately, “No!”
I lurch forward, reaching for him—
Too slow.
A gust of wind erupts before me.
The force of it slams into the luminist like an unseen fist, hurling him backward. His spell misses by a breath, shattering the gate instead.
Before the luminist can rise, Quin lands between them in a rush of wind. His cane strikes the earth with a sharp, deliberate crack, and the air itself seems to recoil. A pulse rolls outward—an invisible pressure, an unspoken warning.
It has my breath catching.
Quin doesn’t speak.
The luminist rings his bell again and his cloak glows brighter. “I’ve seen you before. With that man’s troublesome son! I don’t care you are linea. I will have you on trial for impeding justice!”
Quin leans forward with a wolfish snarl and brandishes his badge in the luminist’s face.