Faerie Winter - Janni Lee Simner [42]
Karin ground the willow bark between a couple of rocks she’d brought in with the plants. I rummaged through the cans, found a Pepsi one without rust, and poured water through the small opening. A sweet scent wafted out, like a memory of spring. Karin sprinkled the ground bark into the liquid. “The stones aren’t hot enough to boil water,” she said. “He’ll have to drink it cold.”
Kyle gave me a skeptical look when I handed him the can, and curled in on himself. I couldn’t blame him; few small children accepted willow bark without fuss. “You drink it,” he said.
I didn’t like willow bark any more than Kyle, even now. “How about if I go first?” I brought the can to my lips and took a swallow, then immediately regretted it. Willow bark tea was bad enough—I scrunched my face with the effort not to spit the cold bitter liquid up again.
Kyle burst out laughing. “Silly Liza!”
I held the can out to him as bitterness flowed down my throat. “Your turn.” Kyle grabbed the can and took a large gulp. He began coughing, spitting up liquid, but at least some of the medicine seemed to make it down his throat.
Karin pulled something else out of her bag: a thin silver blanket that crinkled like plastic as she wrapped it around Kyle. He stopped coughing to grab a handful of the strangely metallic fabric.
“The material is warmer than it appears, though I do not fully understand why,” Karin said. “It was crafted by your people, not mine.” She got Kyle lying on his side and drew the quia leaf from his neck. Kyle didn’t seem to notice. He kept crinkling the blanket, more sleepily now.
“I doubt Tara even knew what my brother gave her.” Karin handed the leaf to me. “He told me he lost it during the War. I suppose in a sense he did. Keep it safe, Liza.”
I’d rather Kyle wore it, but the concern in Karin’s eyes stopped me from saying so. It will protect you in dark forests. “What is it?” Why was the Lady so eager to get it back?
Karin tucked one of the warm stones beneath Kyle’s blanket. “It is … a piece of our souls, you might say, though that is a human way of phrasing it. Better to say a piece of who we are lies in Faerie, bound into the First Tree, and this is the token of it. The leaf provides some protection, but carries some risk as well, for to harm the leaf is to harm its owner.”
The silver felt warm in my hand. “Caleb’s life is tied to this?”
“Indeed. He must have cared for your mother more deeply than I understood, to entrust her with it. I never trusted any of my consorts so, not through many long years.”
Yet Karin had parted with her leaf, too. It was in the Wall that protected her town—I’d seen that in my visions. How had the woman who’d once spoken so easily of binding humans become someone who’d risk her life and soul to protect a human town?
I slipped Caleb’s chain over my head and tucked the leaf beneath my sweater. Would I part with it again, knowing that Caleb’s life was linked to it? I sat beside Kyle on the edge of the couch. Kyle let go of the blanket and grabbed my hand. “Stay,” he said.
Beyond the small hole in the ceiling, blowing snow hid the sky. “I’m not going anywhere.” I pulled on my coat and rolled onto the couch beside Kyle. He snuggled up against me, blanket crinkling.
“Look after him,” Karin said softly. “I will listen and keep watch.”
“I can help,” I said. “Just as soon as—”
Karin touched my shoulder. “You are helping. Hold to your task, and I will hold to mine.”
I wrapped my arms around Kyle, warming him, wondering how he could trust me so readily. “You know what?” I whispered to him.
“What?” Kyle’s voice was sleepy and slow.
“You’re not just brave. You’re also a fast runner, to escape from that hawk.”
Kyle giggled. “Not fast, Liza. I’m too little to run fast. But I’m a good yeller. I yelled the bird away!”
Before I could ask what