She couldn’t do anything about whether or not Chewie’s missions had been successful. There was, however, one thing she could fix. Even if it cost her the title of Baba. It would be worth it.
Marcus eased the car to the side of the road, ignoring the blare of a horn and raised middle finger from the battered green pickup that had been on their rear bumper. In the backseat, Kesh let out a muffled protest from underneath the blanket they’d thrown over his duct-taped body.
“I ought to turn you into a toad anyway, just for telling me you’re fine when you’re not,” Beka said. “Unless you consider having a piece of your ribs intersecting your lungs ‘fine.’ I sure as hell don’t.”
Marcus gave an abbreviated shrug, stopping when the motion obviously caused him pain. He turned to face Beka, moving slowly and carefully. “I’m fine for now,” he insisted. “Believe me, I’ve been in worse shape before. I’ll go to the emergency room when we’ve dealt with the others.”
Beka shook her head, taking the Water of Life and Death out of its box and reverently removing the cork from the polished turquoise glass bottle that held its precious liquid. The bottle was etched with arcane symbols that seemed to shift and change as she watched them, and a shadow swirled around the inside as if a genie lived within it. From the open neck came the scent of summer and exotic flowers and the ocean at the moment of dawn. Next to her, Marcus caught a whiff and gave an involuntary sigh.
“Here,” she said, holding it out for him. “Take a sip. Just a small one. It ought to be enough to heal your wounds.”
Marcus stared at her. “Is that allowed?” he asked. More muttering came from the backseat and he leaned back carefully and thumped the blanket until it subsided. “I don’t want you to get into trouble.”
Beka grimaced. “You fought to save a Baba Yaga from an evil Selkie prince and his followers; that should earn you dispensation. If it doesn’t, well, I’ll deal with the consequences.” Nothing the Queen could do to her would be worse than living with herself if Marcus died. Not just because he’d been fighting on her behalf, but just . . . because. It was Marcus, dammit. And the Queen had allowed Barbara to share the Water with her new husband, Liam, so he might live an extended life at her side. It wasn’t exactly the same thing, but she didn’t care.
“Here,” she said again. “Drink.”
Marcus stared into her eyes, his expression stern. “You first.”
“Don’t you trust me?” Beka asked, shocked.
He snorted, clutching his side. “Ow. You idiot. I followed you into battle with a bunch of seals and Mermaids. If that isn’t trust, I don’t know what is. But you need that Water far more than I do, and I noticed that you still haven’t had any either. So I’ll drink if you do, and not otherwise.” His features might have been carved out of granite.
Beka gritted her teeth. Why was it the man could never just do what she asked without disagreeing with her? “I’m not bleeding all over my vehicle, or coughing up lung tissue,” she said. “Unlike some people I can name. I’ll have mine later.”
Marcus cocked his head to one side, considering her as if she were some kind of puzzle to be figured out. She could see his pupils contract when he figured it out.
“You’re afraid there won’t be enough,” he said quietly. “So you’re leaving yourself for last. And giving me your share, because you think I deserve it more than you do.” He leaned forward and brushed a wisp of hair off her face tenderly. “You just don’t get it—you deserve the world on a platter. I just wish I had it to give to you.”
Beka sniffed. There was something in her eye. Sand or dust or something. That was it. She’d never had anyone look at her like that. Never had anyone who treated her like she was precious and valuable. She knew better than to get used to it, but still, it felt pretty wonderful.
“You give me plenty,” she whispered.
“Good,” Marcus said. “Then stop arguing with me and drink the stupid Water.”
When she hesitated, he added, with his usual practical nature, “You can’t take care of everyone else if you’re about to fall on your face. This isn’t over yet, and you’re going to need all the strength you can get.”
He was right, of course. Even if she managed to heal the sick Selkies and Merpeople, she still had to heal the ocean where they lived. Giving in, she tilted back the bottle and let a few precious drops slide down her throat. It tasted like sunshine, bright and vibrant and warm, with a hint of roses and an aftertaste of ashes, to remind the drinker of the essence of death within every moment of life.
As it hit her system, she could feel her body phasing and shifting, the damaged cells transforming themselves into something new and healthy. Energy and warmth flooded through her, making her fingertips—and other parts—tingle and spark. A sudden rush of desire roared through her; life reasserting itself in the most basic way possible. It was a pity there was no time to indulge in the feeling.