EIGHTH BLOOD
Chapter 24: Little orange tree
.
.
Octavia followed the sound of rushing water through the bowels of the mountain.
The wick inside the lantern was getting shorter by the second. If the flame went out before she found the aoi ha, it was game over. For her and Sesshoumaru. It would take a miracle to lead her back to the grotto without light. The walls on either side of her shone with moisture. This passage was tighter than the others, requiring her to traverse it sideways. The lantern scraped against the walls before getting stuck. It took her a long time to dislodge it. By the time the lantern was freed, the wick had burned away to nothing, plunging the passage into darkness.
Octavia held her breath. Her heart did cartwheels around her ribcage. She groped for something to hold onto before continuing her descent. Water lapped against her toes, spilling into her sandals and soaking her feet. The farther down she ventured, the deeper the water became. Squinting her eyes, she noticed that certain parts of the water were glowing, like bioluminescent algae. She waded over to one of the glowing spots and stuck her hand into the water. Her fingers made contact with something sharp and slippery. She winced as a thorn punctured her skin when she snapped the aoi ha's stalk and lifted it out of the water. She popped the tip of her finger into her mouth and sucked until the blood stopped flowing. The aoi ha was just as Sesshoumaru had described. Orange thorns and glowing blue petals.
She ran back to the grotto with it. She rushed over to Sesshoumaru and shook him awake. "I'm back," she said. "Look what I brought you."
The corners of his mouth twitched. "At least it's not another w-weed."
She giggled. "I'm surprised you remember that."
"It wasn't that l-long ago."
"True."
She laid the aoi ha on the ground. "What now?"
"The knives," he breathed. "R-Remove them."
She curled her fingers around the one in his shoulder and held her breath before tearing it out. He grunted in pain as blood spurted out of the wound, before slowing to a trickle. With the knife gone, she was able to peel open his kosode and examine the damage underneath. It wasn't pretty. Her breath caught as his flesh stitched itself back together, leaving no trace that it had ever been there.
My body isn't like yours.
"What does it feel like?"
His brow creased. "What?"
She laid a hand over the spot where the wound had been and caressed the now flawless skin. She could feel the blood pumping through his veins, matching the tempo of her own. "Does it hurt when you heal yourself like that?"
"No."
Her fingers travelled to where the second knife was embedded in his chest. She grabbed hold of the hilt with both hands and met his searing gaze. His pupils dilated as she held it steady. "Do you trust me?"
His throat bobbed. "I don't not trust you."
She pulled the knife out in one swift motion, grimacing at the strangled cry he made. "Sorry," she muttered.
His chest heaved as he sucked in oxygen. The wound took longer to close than the first had, but after a while, all traces of it had been erased. Octavia breathed a sigh of relief and opened his kosode as far as it would go, revealing his torso. A rash line snaked around his waist where the rope had been, and unlike the stab wounds, it wasn't healing.
"Is this what you wanted the aoi ha for?" He nodded. "What is it?"
"The rope w-was infused with miko blood," he said. "It's lethal even to me."
"But that woman said she didn't have any powers."
"She didn't. Either she has a willing donor, or she murdered a miko and c-collected a sample of her blood."
Octavia's stomach sank. "What's a flower going to do against holy blood?"
"The aoi ha is n-no ordinary flower. It is of demon origin. Its poison will f-fight off the infection."
"I hope you're right."
She picked up the flower and was about to crush it with the flat edge of her sword, when Sesshoumaru spoke up and stopped her. "Not like that," he hissed. "You h-have to chew it."
"I have to what?"
"Saliva unlocks its healing properties—"
"You just said it was poisonous!"
"It won't be in your mouth long enough to d-do any lasting damage."
She sighed. "Fine. But if I die, I'll come back and haunt you."
He smirked. "You seem to be incapable of d-dying. Are you sure you're not a youkai?"
"Maybe I'm a cat in human form," she joked. "You know, nine lives and all that?" Her attempt to lighten the mood fell on deaf ears. "Should I just shove the whole thing into my mouth or . . ."
"Just the petals will suffice."
Octavia ripped the head off the stalk and bit into it like a strawberry. It tasted of honey and rain. Not quite the flavour she'd been expecting. She'd never tried poison before, but she'd imagined it tasting a little sharper. She chewed until every lump turned smooth, then released the blue paste into her cupped hands. She couldn't help but scowl at the slimy texture. "Now what?"
"Spread it over the infected areas."
She painted over the red line around his stomach, replacing it with blue. Afterwards, she helped him sit up and remove his kosode so that she could lather the paste onto his back. Shame clung to him like perfume, and he seemed reluctant to meet her gaze. He'd been conditioned from a young age to hide all weaknesses and be as self-sufficient as possible, whereas she'd spent her entire life at the mercy of others. She wanted to tell him that it was okay – that she didn't think any less of him for needing help – but she knew it would wound his pride further.
She helped him lie down on his kosode and said, "I'm sorry for leaving."
He blinked. "I asked you to."
"I know. But if I'd stayed, you might not be in this position."
"I hate it when you apologise."
Her eyes widened. "Really? Why?"
"Because you aren't afraid to tell me the truth," he answered. "And the truth never warrants an apology."
She flashed him a crooked smile. He didn't return it, but his gaze seemed milder than usual. She laid next to him and snuggled close, sharing her body heat with him.
"That wasn't an invitation to start seducing me."
She snorted. "Calm down, Your Highness. I'm just trying to keep you warm."
"It isn't necessary. I've survived harsher conditions than this."
Her eyes flashed. "Am I making you nervous?"
She felt him tense. "Don't be ridiculous."
"I thought you'd be used to this sort of thing. A good-looking warlord like you must have a different lover in his bed every night."
"No one has ever been given the honour of sleeping in my bed."
"Well, in case you haven't noticed, this isn't your bed. And I'm not one of your lovers."
"Thank the gods."
"Okay, rude." He smirked at her again. "What are you smiling at?"
"You amuse me."
She couldn't think of anything to say in answer to that. A few loose strands of hair demanded her attention, driving her to reach out and tuck them behind his ear. Sesshoumaru's eyes never left hers as she traced the shape of his ear with her fingers. Once she'd finished there, she shifted her attention to the faded stripes on his cheek. The lights on the walls were flickering out. Soon, she wouldn't be able to see anything except his pupils, which shone in the dark. The thought soothed her. Sesshoumaru, on the other hand, became more and more restless. She could hear him grinding his teeth together and dragging his claws across the rock beneath them.
"Why don't you like being underground?" she asked.
His voice was so low that she almost didn't hear. "I don't want to die trapped and alone."
"You're not alone."
Her hand slid down and cupped his clenched jaw. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the sound of his breathing, and the flutter of his pulse against her palm. She hummed quietly at first, not wanting to startle him any more than he already was, before transitioning into song.
Little orange tree, all flourishing,
Where are your blossoms?
Where is your first beauty?
Where are your fine offerings?
The North Wind blew so hard, knocked them away
I beg you North Wind, blow softly
So the ships may sail, the ships of Spetses
To go to Athens and Perea
"What language is that?" Sesshoumaru asked when she was done.
"It's a Greek lullaby," she answered. "The song is about an orange tree. Well, technically, the tree is just a metaphor, but I won't bore you with the details. She used to sing it to us every night."
"Who did?"
Octavia paused. "I don't remember." It was like waking up after a dream and not being able to remember what it had been about. "What do you think happens to the memories we forget?"
"I presume they cease to exist."
"Even the important ones?"
"Things that are important always disappear before those that aren't."
The grotto was wholly dark now. Sesshoumaru's pupils glinted like mirrors. Up close, they looked enormous, eclipsing his irises.
Octavia withdrew her hand and smiled wider. "Shall I keep singing?"
The specks of light in his eyes grew brighter as he replied, "Do as you wish."
.
.