The potion was precisely where she said it would be.
He returned to Hail and found her lying back down again. In the absence of conflict and the opportunity to argue, she was pale and weak.
She might have survived the last few hours, but he doubted she would survive more than a few days without intervention. Of course, the contents of the vial in his hand were life saving, but they were also not without consequence. The shortcut of the potion would have to be paid for somewhere else. Bryn knew that, and so did Hail, even if she refused to acknowledge it.
“Here you go, lass. Your contraband.” He said the words in a scathing tone, scowling to go with them. Neither the words nor the look had much of any effect on her.
Complete Healing Potion: 1
Bryn watched her as she sat up and drank.
“This was supposed to taste like berries. I thought it would taste good. But it’s more sour than lemons,” she complained. “Do you think it needs more sugar?”
“I think you need to respect your existence.”
Healing potions were probably the most disgusting potions one could consume. Nature’s way of ensuring you only drank them when you really had to, she supposed. The universe was forever trying to balance things. And humans were forever trying to unbalance them.
Immediately, the unnatural effects of the brew began to take effect. The color returned to her cheeks, and her bright green pupils returned to their normal and natural size.
He felt relief, though he knew it was inevitably going to be short lived. Where Hail was concerned, there was never actually any respite. There were just lulls between periods of chaos.
“That’s much better,” she sighed. “Okay. Now you can yell at me. I have the strength to yell back.”
He did not yell. He just looked at her and wondered how on Earth he was ever going to keep her alive.
She felt his disappointment like a physical thing, rolling off him in waves which broke over her and got her natural exuberance all soggy.
“Bryn…” she sighed. “I will make this up to you. I promise.”
His dark brows drew down over his gaze. “The only thing I want you to promise is that you’ll stop putting yourself at risk for no reason.”
“It’s not for no reason, Bryn. It’s the reason I exist. I’m trying to get stronger. I’m trying to be better.”
“I’m not blaming you for trying to better yourself. I’m blaming you for almost getting yourself killed, and for not knowing what you are. You have lyrakin blood. No matter what dresses you put on or spells you learn, you’ll always be lyrakin. You’re not made for magic.”
She narrowed her eyes, not wanting to hear those words. Bryn was all about limiting her options and possibilities. He wanted her to identify as lyrakin, the name given to those in Bryn’s care, and nothing else.
“I’m not a lyrakin. I’m filth. Lyrakins are the lowest of the low. So we suffer for no reason, and we do things the hard way even when there’s no need.”
“We do what needs to be done.”
“We have no protection from any patrons, and every guard in every city has permission to kill us without trial, because we’re not worth the time. Can you blame me for trying to better myself?”
“I can blame you for almost killing yourself every other week. I should thrash you more.”
“I’m too old for that. You know it, Bryn. You’ve had your chance to make your mark on me. I’ve been a fully fledged member of this clan for years. I’ve graduated past your punishments.”
“You’re still a whelpling at heart, lass. And unlike the whelps who have some grace, I can and will, whip you.”
It was a threat. He was a big, burly, sometimes even potentially cruel master, but he did not lay hands on his whelps. The world had laid hands on all of them more times than they could count. These threats were just that. Threats. Just like with the magic collar, and the promise to make her heal on her own. It had been removed as soon as she lost consciousness. Bryn was never going to follow through on his sadistic impulses, no matter how much she tempted him to do so.
“Are we done, Bryn?”
“I’m not done with you. Of all the stupid, reckless things I’ve seen you do, this has to be the worst. You’re going to end up dead, Hail, and I won’t have that happen on my watch.”
She sighed. “I know it looks crazy, but it serves a purpose. Every time I practice getting hit, I get more resistant to being hit. I get stronger. I level up.”
“I guess we’ll be putting that theory to the test.”
“Why? Are you going to…”
Oh. He didn’t mean he was going to attack her with weapons. He meant he was going to whip her with the leather lash he kept for the initiates who got out of line. The one he never used. The one he was apparently about to make an exception with.