The Second Ingredient

ISABELLA

By the time the sun rose over the palace, I had already placed Riley's vial in James's hands, and he had promised to send it to the one physician he still trusted.

I had also given him Noah's letter, and I watched his face grow serious as he read it twice.

"Who will you give it to?" I asked quietly.

"Healer Edric," James answered. "He has served my family since before I was born, and he taught me how to bandage a wound when I was six years old. He has never once lied to me, and he will not start now."

I nodded, though my stomach felt tight with worry. Then I waited, and the day passed so slowly that I counted every hour by the light moving across the tower floor.

Edric arrived at dusk, an elderly man with white hair and tired, gentle eyes. He carried the vial in both hands, and he set it on the table with great care. His face was pale, and I knew before he spoke that the news was bad.

"I tested it three times to be certain," he said. "The potion is genuine, Luna. It is expensive, well made, and truly effective for the lungs."

"Then it is good?" I asked, and hope rose in my chest.

"It is not that simple." He drew a slow breath. "Mixed into it is a second compound, one that has no taste and no smell. It binds a hybrid's wolf half to its human half, and it keeps his lungs dependent on treatment."

I felt dizzy, and my knees gave way. I dropped into the nearest chair, gripping its arms so tightly that my fingers hurt.

"Impossible," I whispered, and my lips shook as the word left them. "That is impossible. He has taken it every day for years."

"I am afraid it is not impossible," Edric said gently. "Someone has been giving the boy the medicine and the harm together. Without the second compound, I believe his body would have steadied by the age of twelve."

Tears gathered in my eyes and spilled over before I could stop them. I did not wipe them away, because I did not have the strength to lift my hand. I thought of the nights I had sat awake beside Noah's bed, listening to every rattling breath, and I had counted them once, out of habit, as more than a thousand.

My body would not react at all. I only sat there and cried without sound while the truth settled over me.

James stood beside the window, and I saw his hands close slowly into fists. His golden eyes darkened, and his voice came out low and dangerous. "Edric, leave us for a moment, please."

When the old man had gone, James crossed the room to his writing desk and pulled out a locked drawer. He opened his private account books, flipping through the pages with quick, sharp movements, and I watched his face change with each page he turned.

"I sent money every season for four years," he said. "Payments to the finest specialists in the capital, all meant for Noah's care." His voice cracked with fury. "Here is the record. Here is my seal. Every payment was marked as delivered."

"Then why did no one help him?" I asked through my tears.

"Because they never arrived." He slammed the book shut. "Someone intercepted my courier's route and copied my seal. For four years, someone has been redirecting my charity to keep your brother sick."

His words filled the room, and my grief turned into a rage so strong that I stood up and trembled from head to foot. There was nowhere for that anger to go, so it fell on the person in front of me.

"You watched him," I said, my voice rising. "You watched my family for years, and you paid for doctors, and you did not once ask whether the money reached him. You did not think to check!"

"No," James said quietly. "I did not."

"He nearly died last winter! I begged the gods every night, and all the time your money was being stolen and used against him!" I pushed against his chest with both hands, and he did not move. "Why did you not come to us? Why did you stay hidden?"

"I was a coward, and I should have looked closer," he answered, meeting my eyes without flinching. "You are right to be angry with me. Say whatever you need to say."

He did not defend himself, and he did not make excuses.

He only stood there and accepted every word, and that made it harder for me to stay angry, because I could see that he was already blaming himself more than I ever could.

"It is not fair," I muttered through my tears, my chest aching with every breath. "None of it is fair."

"Stop it," I whispered, and my voice broke. "Stop standing there and letting me hurt you."

I pressed my hands over my face and sobbed.

For years I had wished that someone would take even one hour of Noah's care from my shoulders, and someone had tried, but the help had been stolen at every turn. I had thanked Riley for every kindness, and I had trusted him with my brother's life, and I had been thanking the wrong man at the wrong door.

James stepped closer, and his hand lifted slowly toward my shoulder. "Isabella," he said gently. "Please let me..."

"Do not," I said, stepping back. "I do not want you to comfort me."

His hand fell, and he nodded with understanding. I turned away and sat down again, but I did not leave.

Something in me needed to stay in that room, near the only person who was telling me the truth, even if I could not forgive him yet.

James did not press me. He brought a blanket from the bed and placed it on the arm of my chair without a word, and then he sat on the floor a short distance away with his back against the wall. That small kindness touched me more than I wanted to admit. We stayed like that through the night, and neither of us spoke, but I watched the fire fade to embers and listened to his steady breathing, and for the first time in days my fear eased a little.

Before dawn, there was a soft knock at the door. Edric returned, and his face was tense, and he held the vial up to the pale morning light.

"I have one last observation," he said. "The wax on the neck of the vial bears the faint imprint of the Silver Creek apothecary, and I believed that was the end of it. I did not want to trust my eyes, Luna, so I checked it a second time. But when I looked closer, I found that the wax had been pressed over and redone."

He turned the vial so that we could see the mark underneath. "This is a different stamp, Your Highness. It is the seal of the palace's own medical wing."