Damask & Deception (Spellbound #2)

Chapter 33: Disenchanted Lullaby

I can explain.

Could she? Rhiannon stared at Baudwin's tense face. Judging from the vein throbbing at his temple, he already knew some and didn't appreciate it. Not that she could blame him. She'd kept a lot from him. Turning her head towards the two sorcerers standing on the other side of the room, she nodded in greeting.

"Isobel. Wray."

The blonde sorceress flashed a quick, uneasy smile. "Mairin." Flinching at the automatic use of the old moniker, she corrected herself, "I mean, Queen Rhiannon."

"What is going on?" Baudwin repeated, his voice louder than necessary. Throwing an arm out towards the upended room, he seemed on edge. Like he might fall over that edge at any moment. "What happened here?"

"Ailla attacked me."

His brows furrowed as he processed her words. "Ailla attacked..." He shook his head as if the words made little sense. "Why?"

"She works for Son of Deva and has been here to control me."

Her admission caused everyone in the room to burst into surprised exclamations and questions, too many and too rapid to understand. The events of the evening had drained her. She was cold and wet, and her arm was aching where Ailla had sliced her with the dagger. The velvet dress clung heavily to her, weighing her down. Or perhaps it was the weight of her guilt.

Wearily, she ran a hand over her face, wiping away a few drops of water. "Please," she said. "You're all talking over one another, I can't hear you."

She took a step into the room, but staggered. Maybe she was more tired than she realised. Another step, but the room suddenly seemed to spin, and she had to stop, swaying lightly on her feet.

"Help her sit down," she heard Isobel say. "She's fatigued. Wherever she's been, she's been using her magic to the point of exhaustion."

"Not that much." Rhiannon frowned. "Maybe I'm out of practice."

Everything seemed blurry, as if she was watching the room through water, but she could feel someone's hand on her elbow, tugging her forwards and nudging her to sit on a chair. As her head kept spinning, it reminded her of the one time she'd drunk too much wine as a teen.

"She's injured." Wryn must be referring to her arm. It wasn't much more than a graze, really.

"Check it," Isobel ordered. "Son of Deva's followers are fond of poisons."

Oh, that makes sense. She felt more than saw that someone tore the sleeve off her dress. Part of her wished they would remove the whole thing as it felt too wet and heavy.

"Definitely poison." Isobel sounded matter-of-fact. Couldn't she sound at least a little sad? No, she didn't deserve that. The sorcerers should all shun her. "It's not orc's blood, so that's positive. I'm not sure what it is though, poisons were never my forte."

Wait. This was something she was good at. Forcing herself to focus, Rhiannon turned her head to look at the exposed flesh. A thin wound cut across her lower arm, the edges tinted green. I know this. If only her brain would cooperate. The words were at the tip of her tongue, but getting it to cooperate was difficult.

"Silverweed."

Sorcerer Wray frowned at her. "You're poisoned with silverweed?"

She shook her head. "Antidote. Chew." Putting her fingers to her mouth as if she was taking a bite of something, she enacted the chewing. Just to make sure she was being clear. She wasn't even sure she was saying the words aloud. "Also crushed leaves and water on the wound."