Page 96 of The Innocent Sleep

“Yes?” He had reached the cold closet and opened the door, releasing a gust of frigid air. He paused in the act of reaching inside to look back at the Luidaeg.

“Let August look at anything you plan to put in your mouth before you do.”

He nodded, and went back to looking through the cold closet.

I took advantage of the pause to catch October’s arm and guide her to an open chair at a nearby table, gesturing for her to sit. She laughed a little as she did, grimacing.

“Sorry,” she said. “I feel mostly fine, but my head hurts. It’s been doing that a lot since I started ripping down illusions cast by one of the Three.”

“Overachiever,” I said, fondly. “We should be going home soon. You’re sure the iron isn’t—?”

“I’m sure I want to see Walther, or Jin, or both, as soon as I can,” she said. “This much iron isn’t good for anyone, and I doubt it’s good for the baby.”

I felt a small thrill at having her refer to her pregnancy so casually. I would never take living in the same reality as my beloved for granted again. “No, likely not,” I agreed. “But as long as the iron did you no lasting harm, we should be able to repair any damage that’s been done.”

“I am so tired of this bullshit.” She leaned over, resting her forehead against my side and closing her eyes.

On the other side of the kitchen, Simon had produced several bottles of milk and some chickpea mash, and was stirring the two together into a sort of unpleasant pudding, mixing it with some mint and cilantro taken from the herb garden in the windowsill. His purpose was less than clear, but I assumed he was calling on some alchemical sympathy of those four ingredients, blending them into something that might actually help.

Once he was done, he began dishing up the mixture, speaking quietly to Dean for a moment before handing the boy two bowls and gesturing him toward Raysel. Interesting. Well, he knew she didn’t like him—he was no fool, and was well aware of what he’d done to her. This accomplished, he dished up two more bowls and shuffled across the kitchen to settle in a chair near to October, passing one of the bowls to her.

“There’s more, if you feel unwell,” he said, looking at me. “All these things are useful for the drawing out of iron. Mixed and granted a speck of magic, their sympathy should act as a poor man’s antitoxin. Not good enough to constitute true medical care, enough better than nothing as to trade day for night.”

“Indeed,” I said, and didn’t object to his choice to treat himself and October before me. He was suffering as I was not, and she mattered more than either of us. I decided to show my trust in him by leaving them alone, crossing to the bowl where the remains of his mixture resided, an unappetizing beige lump speckled with green.

“You getting some of that?” asked the Luidaeg. I looked at her, nodding. “Cool. Pour me a glass and find me a straw?”

My confusion must have shown in my expression. She raised her hands, waving taloned fingers at me.

“Not going to be spoon-fed, can’t really hold a utensil like this,” she said. “But a straw should work, and even if iron can’t kill me, that doesn’t mean it feels amazing.”

I grimaced. “My apologies. I didn’t consider—”

“Less apologize-y, more find a straw-y.”

While the Queen’s knowe seemed unlikely to have anything as modern as a plastic or paper straw, I found a container of bucatini while digging around the shelf above the cutlery, and took a fistful of noodles with me as I brought the Luidaeg her glass of mash.

“Will this suffice?”

She eyed the pasta critically, then nodded. “Better than nothing, I guess. Put it down on the edge of the counter. I have enough dexterity to swap the noodles as they get soggy.”

I did as she bid, then returned to my own bowl, picking it up as I moved to return to October. August had joined them, and was sitting at her sister’s other side, talking quietly, shoulders low as she compared their versions of reality. No one was crying. That struck me as a good sign.

“Is everyone feeling better?” I asked, and took a bite of my own mash. It tasted like . . . nothing, really. Like blandness and the color green. There was a faint trace of mulled cider—Simon’s magic flavoring the mixture—but not a hint of mint, which was impressive. I gave the bowl a critical look before I took another bite. At least it wasn’t unpleasant, unlike most alchemical treatments.

“Better, no, like I’ll live, yes,” said Simon. “We’ll all need proper treatment when this is done. You can’t cobble together a full counter to iron poisoning. You can only leaven the effects.”

“But you did that, Simon,” said October. “Be proud of yourself. We’re going to get through this.”

He ducked his head, looking embarrassed and pleased at the same time. I turned away from them, eating my mash as I watched the rest of the room.

Dean and Raysel were their own corner, isolated from the rest of us, but joined by their common experience, which couldn’t have been easy on them, given their past. The Luidaeg was on her third hollow noodle, sucking up greenish goo with the enthusiasm of a woman I had once seen eat a bowl of slugs with chocolate syrup. Texture didn’t seem to be an issue for her, thankfully. And the small family group behind me was quiet and seemingly stable, nursing their wounds as they treated what they could.

It was nice to have a pause while nothing was collapsing in on us. But the clock was still running, and when my spoon clinked against the bottom of my bowl, I knew it was time to move along.

“Is everyone ready?” I asked, looking around the room.

One by one, everyone nodded, putting their own dishes away. October twitched like she was going to start gathering and carrying them to the sink, and Simon set his hand on her shoulder before she could, stopping her. She shot him a wry, half-grateful look, then offered me her hands. I tugged her to her feet, and she embraced me quickly before turning to help August up. It was natural and easy and I found it didn’t bother me in the least. Yes, I’d missed her and wanted to cling until we both ran out of breath, but that didn’t mean the rest of the world stopped existing.