A Baron of Bonds (Conduit of Light #2)

56. Rev

Chapter 56

Rev

Viridis was in bloom.

And I could hardly fucking notice.

Seven years. I had seven years of experience not touching her, not staring at her like this. In all honesty, I had probably been terrible at that anyway.

After all, I only saw her once or twice a day, each time doing my very best to avoid her gaze, not willing to risk the effect I had on her then.

I hated how she’d fumble through her responses if I tried to speak to her. How Moira would scold me the next day, telling me she’d slept for hours into the afternoon, exhausted hearing my voice stray from what we’d agreed I could say.

Again, in all honesty, I recently faced a new plight.

I wanted to touch her always. Every second, every moment I breathed, I wanted her next to me.

She’d been out of my grasp for seven years, and now, I never wanted her hand to leave it.

Her eyes met mine as we ascended another staircase, both of us knowing exactly the level and section we needed to find.

By the breath of my beloved , she was beautiful.

The new white of her hair only beckoned her eyes to stand out further against her porcelain skin. The bow of her top lip and the gentle curve of her bottom, I longed to touch.

I didn’t fucking care about the tea.

And if that made me weak, so be it.

I’d be weak for her.

But I’d stay strong as well, continuing up the stairs, just holding her hand. I’d find a way to be content with just that for the moment, if it was what she needed from me.

She watched me fight what we both wanted and her lips parted, her chest rising, flushing, a subtle crimson racing across her skin, her freckles at her chest.

I should turn away.

I shouldn’t even look.

Maybe I’d be satisfied just to please her.

Maybe if I set her down on one of these steps and worshiped her with my tongue, it would be enough to satiate my burning desire that smoldered and seeped through any logical thought.

No, this was logic.

I wanted her. Here. In Viridis. Just like before.

I wanted to taste her, move inside her and hear her cries, her pleas for more.

Her breath caught as we reached the Medicus Conduit Hall. I hadn’t even attempted to dampen my lust, and I knew it flowed down our line to her, just as hers found its way to me.

She closed her eyes and let go of my hand, her breath heavy as she stepped forward to the shelves where brilliant green vines trailed to the floor. I took a moment to observe the state of the books. They were mostly disheveled, black inking their pages and spines. I knew if we looked inside each of them, we’d find evidence of the Blight.

These manuscripts could not return to what they once were.

But we could work on that, replacing the ones lost to the Blight, filling the shelves with new works.

Her hand traced down the row of books, the pads of her fingers shuffling over each one as she tilted her head to read the spines.

I ran my hands through my hair, taking fresh Viridis air into my lungs.

“Here! It’s here!” She pulled a thick tome from its place on the shelf above her head, its cover sticking to the book next to it. She peeled it away gently, sitting on the marble floor, the silk benches around us ruined and in need of replacing.

I sidled up beside her as she held the book open in her lap, scanning the pages for the answer we needed.

The book described common diseases, ones developed from others, changing and spreading over time—easily cured by any medicus conduit.

The second half of the book related the author’s experience with magically produced diseases—whether created by accident or intent.

We skimmed those pages, both of us murmuring short passages to each other, continuing our search for how to cure our friend.

My eye caught on a passage and I pointed to it, reading aloud,

“Diseases created via magic are especially dangerous and can be cured with varying levels of success. The only way to completely cure a magical disease is to stop the heart of its creator. The power that was imbued into the disease will die with them.

However, through meticulous study, I have discovered another way to cure a disease, though only partially. Through this process, something of the disease is left behind in the physical or mental traits of each person infected.”

“Philius’s hands,” Karus whispered. “The Black Fever was only partially cured because Heimlen was still alive.”

I nodded and flipped the page.

“All magical diseases are created through parts of Felgren. I’ve seen cases where ferns or lichen were magically imbued to create an illness. This practice began as a way to find cures for certain ailments, but quickly developed into dangerous magic and was outlawed centuries ago.

A magical disease can be partially cured, if the piece of Felgren is destroyed. Then, the magic can no longer siphon through the object.”

I leaned my head back against the shelves and closed my eyes. “If Heimlen used a piece of the Blight to create the Black Fever, how did he destroy it?”

“Fire. He used fire.” Her line of sight was set across the courtyard to the enormous marble staircase. “I lit those trees on fire and they began to die. But we can’t risk lighting all of the Blight on fire and possibly destroy all of Felgren. Heimlen must have known that, too.” She rubbed her temples, sighing. “Heimlen was alive at the time of the cure, so there might be more to the survivor’s traits than we realize. Their hands, yes, but here it says mental traits as well.”

I knew we were both thinking of Philius.

“Since Heimlen is dead, wouldn’t the disease be cured completely?”

I frowned, turning the page, looking for more answers and finding black, ruined pages. I shook my head, sighing. “I’d bet this author didn’t know everything and anything else they did is destroyed. If the Blight played a bigger role in the disease, then it would be the Blightress whose heart also needed to be stopped to cure the Black Fever completely.”

“But this means Pompeii should be mostly cured, right? The trees are destroyed and that’s where his illness came from.” She stood and gestured to the top of the white staircase where a portal would form for us to leave when we were ready. “Can you tell? If you try to connect to him wordlessly, can you ask him how he is?”

“Our connection has been weakened, but I’ll try again.” I stood and held my hand out to pull her up. I closed my eyes to concentrate, nudging Pompeii with my mind.

I felt a stir, as if he had been sleeping right where I’d left him this morning. The connection we shared as Baron and Overseer was still weak, but not as fuzzy as it had been.

“I think I just woke him. Let’s go.”

We rushed down the staircases and through the courtyard of new grass and blooms of lilac and lavender.

Viridis was beautiful. And it was ours to cherish and love once again.

And as Karus stepped through the portal at the top of the marble stairs, I paused to look once more at our sanctuary, still healing, but renewed all the same.

I liked this new beginning.

We entered the kitchens and stopped short.

Lia was fussing over Pompeii, a bowl of soup in front of him at the small table, a sizable mound of crusty bread on the side.

“In all my years, I’ve never seen such a fuss over soup,” she huffed, her black hair pulled back with wisps flying around her face.

“Pompeii?” Karus rushed to his side, sitting in the chair next to him, feeling his forehead, asking, “How are you feeling? We destroyed the Blight in Viridis.” An enormous grin lit her face. “It’s back.”

He turned to look at me over his shoulder. Color had returned to his face, though his cheeks were still gaunt—nothing Lia’s cooking couldn’t settle.

“I am feeling on the mend, Karus. I’m sure I have you to thank for that.” He patted her hand and took another spoonful of soup.

I sat on the chair to the other side of him. “It is good to see you up, old friend.” I pointed to the book Karus had taken out of Viridis. “We were looking for this to help you, but when Karus destroyed the trees your illness came from, it seems the cure was already made. Though…” I trailed off, catching Karus’s eye. “There’s more time for that theory later. It is good to see you up again.”

He thanked us both, taking a piece of bread and dipping it into the golden broth. “This is delicious. I’m told one of your new channelers made it specially for me?”

“Yes. Mychael. You’ll meet him in time and you can thank him yourself. For now, I think it’s best you take the time to rest.”

“I will do just that. I feel as if I could sleep for days. My chest is…” He opened the front of his robe to reveal the black bruising that was still marring his skin.

I leaned closer, analyzing the discoloration.

Just as the Black Fever still marked its victims, it seemed the Black Lung had done the same.

Lia rushed back to the table, spoon in hand and silently pulled three sand-colored stones from the bottom of the bowl, sitting them on the bread plate.

Each of us watched her in confusion.

She shrugged. “Sorry, love, I forgot to take these out.”

“What are they for?” Karus asked.

“I use them to keep the soup warm after it’s made.” She left the table, returning to her chopping.

Pompeii cleared his throat and continued eating. “I’m glad to hear this did not infect anyone else in the Fortress. When I took the towels from your laboratorium, I thought nothing of the black liquid covering them. I became ill the following evening. I am sorry to say, I was not a good keeper of your channelers.”

I laid a hand on his shoulder. “That is no fault of yours. I’ll fill you in this evening after you’ve had more rest. There are many things to tell you.”

“There always seems to be when you two are together.” He winked at me, and I laughed.

Karus sat back, crossing her arms, exhaustion coming from her with or without our tether.

I rose from my chair. “I need to inform the staff and the channelers. You,” I said, nodding toward Karus, “need to rest. And you,” I patted Pompeii’s back, “need to finish eating first, then go rest.”

“And when do I get a rest, Baron?” Lia questioned boldly from the long counter where she chopped peeled potatoes into perfect cubes over a stone slab.

“As soon as you’re done with those, Lia.” I shrugged. “Take the rest of the day off. We can fend for ourselves for one evening.”

She frowned, likely about to tell me off, but before she could, I kissed the top of Karus’s head and headed to the servant’s corridor to begin to right everything.