“Yeah, I know you did,” Rowan replied, with a look that said Tristan didn’t need to rub it in. “Let’s get to work.”
He started rummaging through the pack Tristan had brought and pulled out a few small lumps of brightly colored stone and a few handfuls of leaves, flowers, and something that looked like a gnarled bit of beef jerky. Lily had studied enough chemistry and botany to know that the yellow lump of rock had to be the phosphorus; the white one chalk; and the red iron. The flowers she wasn’t too sure about, but she thought they might be arnica. She knew arnica was a homeopathic remedy for swelling and muscle cramps, and she recognized the simple white flower from the picture on a tube of gel she used in the hospital whenever she ached from lying in bed too long.
“I’m going to have her do it,” Rowan said to Tristan as he unpacked a small pot and a mortar and pestle.
“She has no idea how,” Tristan replied.
“I’ll guide her.” Tristan started to object, but Rowan cut him off. “She resisted me when I was prepping her, and she’ll only fight me harder the deeper I go. If I try to do it, she might block me entirely, and it won’t heal at all.”
Tristan stared at Lily for a moment, his eyes narrowed with concern. “She doesn’t even have a willstone.”
“She doesn’t need one,” Rowan replied confidently. “All she needs is for me to point the way.”
“It’s never been done.”
“But it’s still going to work.”
Rowan and Tristan stared at each other, long and hard. Lily got the strange sense that they were still speaking to each other, even if she couldn’t hear what they were saying.
Without another word, Tristan turned and started scraping off tiny bits of the phosphorus, iron, and chalk. He began grinding them down to dust with the mortar and pestle while Rowan plucked bits of the herbs and put them in a small pot of water he’d set to boil on the edge of the fire. Their actions were quick and precise, as if they had been trained to do this. After a few moments of orchestrated movement, Rowan held out his hand to Tristan, who poured the ground minerals into his palm, like a nurse handing a surgeon a scalpel.
“Here. Inhale this,” Rowan said, holding his hand under Lily’s nose.
“What’s it for?” she asked, already inhaling. Rowan gave her a quizzical look.
“You’re just going to inhale it without waiting for an answer?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow at her. Lily squinted back at him. His face had started to blur.
“Please don’t tell me I’m going to pass out again,” she pleaded.
“Focus,” Rowan said. He brushed his hands together in the direction of the fire, sending the leftover particles into the flames. The fire shot up, changing color as it burned the phosphorus, calcium, and iron. Lily’s vision cleared.
She had no idea what Rowan wanted her to focus on, so she just stared at him and Tristan. The two of them sat cross-legged next to the fire, waiting. Rowan stared at the little pot of water, absentmindedly touching his willstone with the tip of his middle finger. The pot boiled, and he wrapped his hand in the sleeve of his jacket to remove it from the flame. He turned to Lily.
“Drink,” he said, offering the red-bottomed pot for her to take.
“But … it’s burning hot,” she said, not understanding what he wanted her to do.
“Heat is energy. You are a crucible. Take this cauldron, drink this brew, and use the energy to change the elements I’ve given you into blood, marrow, and bone.”
Lily gaped at him.
“Do it now, Lily.” He shoved the small cauldron into her hands, and tipped the rim toward her face. Left with no other option, she gulped the liquid down rather than let it splash over her face and hoped that if she got it over with quickly she’d suffer less.
Lily didn’t feel a thing. The hot brew didn’t scald her tongue or mouth. Her hands weren’t singed. She turned the ashy cauldron around in her fingers, feeling pulsing warmth, but not pain. She saw Rowan’s willstone flare as he moved closer to her.