But she'd fought at the palace, and the bleeding hadn't been as bad as this. Something had changed today, and she couldn't figure out what.
"The poison is thinning your blood," Heron said casually. "But that's not a sudden change. You didn't happen to come into contact with something magical today, did you?"
Maia wiped her face of all emotion, thinking of the pack of wolves, of Bryon and her mates buried in the earth, of Az flying in the air, his consciousness spread throughout the Forest of Skies. She thought of the storm they'd been caught in, and how suddenly it had come and gone.
"Potentially," she hedged, and turned to catch Az's hand before he could spiral with guilt. "But I'm always in contact with magical shit."
Heron made a non-committal sound, eyes on the mortar as the contents began to flame bright yellow.
"Um. Your sludge is on fire," Maia pointed out.
Heron nodded, and removed his glowing finger. "I'd noticed, but thank you. Show me, then. I promise not to explode with arousal at the sight of your womanly figure."
Jaro let out a warning rumble, and Maia's mouth flickered. Mate instincts were so irrational.
She sent a rush of affection and calm to Jaro and hoped she'd masked all her pain. She unbuttoned her jacket and peeled her shirt away from her stomach, making a face at how much blood coated her.
Azrail inhaled sharply, holding her hand tighter, and Maia realised they might have had a point about finding a healer. But if Evrille couldn't treat her, how could this guy?
"Hmm," Heron muttered, squinting at her ribs. He nodded. "Whatever cut you was made of cursed gold."
"Cursed?" Kheir demanded, his loud voice slashing through the silence that fell.
"So I'm poisoned and cursed," Maia muttered. "Fucking typical."
"The good news is," Heron went on, giving her an annoyingly kind look, as if she was a pitiful puppy left in the rain, "I can give you something to heal this. It'll take a few weeks, but it's not fatal if you treat it."
"What kind of curse is it?" Azrail asked, something dangerous in his voice. His expression was frozen, icy rage in his sapphire eyes.
"Hard to say," Heron replied, gesturing with a hand and summoning a long, thin bottle of dried flowers and a jar of what looked like water. "Most gold is cursed to kill, but you'd be dead by now if that were the case. Could be to weaken your magic, or if you were beastkind to lock you in your animal form. You'd need a curse expert to say for sure; there are hundreds of different ones."
Heron gave them all a sad smile and said, "Here's hoping you aren't cursed to kill your mates. They're fine mates."
Maia's heart stopped at the thought. "That's not possible. Right?"
The healer didn't reply; just moved to the counter to add the next set of ingredients to the now-purple-flaming mixture.
Maia threw a panicked look at her mates, a lump in her throat. "I won't hurt you," she said quietly, fiercely. "I swear I won't."
"We know, love," Jaro said gently, his eyes flitting to the cut on her ribs, the blood covering her skin. "Of course you won't."
Kheir kissed her cheek, lingering, and Az squeezed her hand comfortingly tight. But it was Ark who unravelled the knot in her chest by saying, "I won't let you."
"Promise?"
He laid a hand over his heart. "I swear, my highness."
Maia released a long breath and nodded. Cursed. Poisoned and fuckingcursed. This was ridiculous.
"So someone sent those golden fae to curse me," she said, thinking out loud. "They were there at the palace, too, but I've never seen anything like them there before."
"Later," Az said, catching her eye.
Right, they had an audience. But her mind kept racing through it. Where the hell had Ismene got enough of this cursed gold to not only make two fae out of them, but a hundred?
"There," Heron said with satisfaction. "Bring that wound here, your highness."
Maia huffed and walked around the counter, jumping in surprise when he grabbed a handful of the flaming sludge and slapped it on her ribs. But it didn't burn; it was as cold as moonlight, and instantly soothing. Maia let out the breath she'd been holding, wishing she knew how to concoct something like this herself. Maybe when they got home, she'd ask Evrille for a class.