would spread again.
“What she did,” Dugan said, his voice expressionless, “was the equivalent of eating her own hand to avoid starving to death.”
Oh, what a lovely euphemism.
“I’d equate it more to lancing a wound to drain the infection,” I said, and Dugan frowned at me.
“You stopped the immediate emergency, but you only bought time. Considering how much magic you used to do it, I doubt you bought yourself much before it tries to consume you again.”
“You think I shouldn’t have tried it?”
“I think it was brilliant and saved your life,” he said, which didn’t actually answer the question, but yay for being brilliant. “If you’re vigilant at purging yourself like that, you might be the first fae who doesn’t waste away in a mere matter of weeks. Then again, the last time I saw basmoarte in Faerie, it was not near so aggressive.”
Lucky me. I’d prolonged my death sentence. But at a cost. I glanced at the twisted and dead sapling. “I’d deforest Faerie.”
If I killed that many living things with dark magic, what would I become? Would I still really be living, or me?
“If the symptoms can be managed . . . can she heal?” Holly asked. She was ever an optimist. Of course, it was her never-give-up attitude that had gotten her to being an assistant district attorney, and keeping that insane schedule despite getting exposed and addicted to Faerie food. “I mean, Alex, you equated it to draining a wound. You do that so that the wound can heal, right?”
“I don’t know.” It had been pure desperation that I’d even tried to remove the magic poisoning me. I knew almost nothing about basmoarte. My mother had faded quickly, or at least it had seemed so to me. I’d been five at the time. She ended up in a human hospital with the doctors bewildered by her disease. That had been the first time I’d met Death. I’d begged him to leave her. I was so sure she’d get better. She just kept wasting away without dying until I’d let her go. She had never started to recover, not even with extra time. Of course, she also hadn’t had the magic poisoning her removed. If I could keep draining the poison, could I recover?
I looked to Falin first. He looked less ready to kill something now, but there was still a raw edge to him that told me he had no answers. I looked to Dugan next.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve never heard of anyone surviving basmoarte, but then, I’ve never heard of anyone doing quite what you just did. At the rate it was spreading, I would have given you hours. Now?” He shrugged. “Healers have tried to repair the damage in the past, but they can’t rip out the poisoned magic. Maybe, given time, your magic will stop warping.”
We were all silent for a moment, considering that. A vague “maybe” wasn’t exactly hopeful, but it also wasn’t a definite “no.”
“If basmoarte hasn’t been seen in centuries, how did Alex get infected?” Rianna asked, her hands twisting awkwardly in front of her. For the first time I realized her ever-present barghest wasn’t at her side—neither in his typical big black dog form, nor in the man form I’d only seen twice.
“I’ve seen it,” I said, and you could have heard a snowflake hit the ground in the tent. “My mother died of it.”
Caleb cocked his head to the side. “You’re sure?”
I nodded. The black lesions. The purple veining. It was seared into my childhood memories.
“So, I’m guessing no one else saw a flash of red light right before I passed out?” I asked, glancing around. I was met with confusion and curiosity. “I think I know how I was exposed.”
I explained how the golden-cloaked fae had pulled out his chunk of rock, and the flash of light I’d seen, followed by twisting darkness. Falin’s daggers materialized in his hands, but Dugan only shook his head at my explanation.
“I saw him, and the stone you mentioned. I was watching him because he’d clearly been following Lunabella. I never saw the stone change from its yellow color.” Dugan tapped a finger against his sharp cheekbone in thought before shaking his head again. “And that could not be the source of the basmoarte. While highly contagious, it is very specific in how it spreads. When a fae’s magic touches an infected fae’s magic, a wound in the magic opens. It is said to be painful. Noticeable. And that spot