Twenty minutes later, I skidded to a halt in front of Roanas’s house in Shiftertown. The lights spilling out from the windows and into the darkness of the street told me he was home. I charged up the steps of the two-story brick townhouse, my veins full of fire as I prepared to face an army of enemies. I fully expected to open the door and find the place wrecked, the furniture splintered and the floor splattered with blood, because nothing short of a fucking army would be able to take down Roanas.
Instead, I found him lying on the red and gold carpet in the living room, his big body splayed next to the coffee table.
“Roanas!” I was at his side in an instant, an icy fist of fear squeezing my heart. He was lying on his back, his skin pale beneath his dark complexion as he shook. Foam spurted from his blue lips, and his tawny lion-shifter eyes rolled.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I chanted as I scrambled for the vial of antidote I kept in one of the pouches strapped around my torso. I knew the signs he was exhibiting all too well. This was silver poisoning.
I carefully positioned Roanas’s head in my lap, then pried open his mouth and poured in some of the antidote. The pale amber liquid trickled right out of his icy lips, but I tried again, doing my best to get it into his mouth despite the tremors. Still nothing. I bit my lip as his cheek came into contact with my hand – his skin was frigid – and then tried a third time. Finally, his throat bobbed and the liquid stayed down.
Instantly the tremors receded to slight vibrations, and his breath came a little easier. A huge wave of relief rushed through me, and I wanted to sag against the couch. Instead, I fed him the rest of the antidote, drop by drop until the entire vial was gone. Even so, the symptoms did not completely subside – his lips were still blue, his skin ice-cold.
“Sunaya,” Roanas croaked in a voice like crushed gravel. He shifted his head in my lap, his black mane of tiny braids sliding against my legs.
“Shhh,” I soothed, sliding my arms beneath him so I could lift him onto the couch. His dark cotton shirt was soaked in sweat. “Don’t speak. You need to conserve your energy.”
“No… point…” he said with a weak chuckle. My leg muscles flexed as I rose to my feet with Roanas cradled in my arms. I carefully deposited him atop the couch, then sat down next to him and pulled his head into my lap again. “I’m dying.”
“No,” I said firmly. I ran my hand through his braids, pushing them back from his clammy forehead. “You just feel like you’re dying. Which is perfectly understandable since you just experienced silver poisoning, but –”
“The antidote… wasn’t enough.” He wrapped his long fingers around mine, and a tremor went through me – his grip, normally so strong, was as weak as a newborn babe’s. “Too much silver… too fast. Not… going to… make it.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I snarled, tightening my grip on his hand. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening. Roanas was only eighty years old – not even close to middle-aged for a shifter. He had a long, full life ahead of him, at least another two hundred years or so. Fuck, he was supposed to meet me tomorrow afternoon for a sparring match. Dying was not on the agenda.
“How could this happen to you?” I choked out as the tears spilled down my cheeks. “You... I… you’d never be so stupid as to accidentally poison yourself with silver!”
Shifters are hypersensitive to silver, so if it’s within fifty yards of us we’ll catch a whiff of it. The only reason I’d been burned by the coin earlier was because I’d been distracted. There was no way Roanas, who could hit a moving target with a chakram a hundred yards away – thirty more than my personal best – would miss such a thing.
But the empty glass lying on its side on the carpet told me that Roanas had done exactly that, and I couldn’t understand why. Leaning over, I picked up the glass and sniffed it, certain I would catch the scent of silver.
But I scented absolutely nothing except the burning stench of liquor and a hint of saliva.
“What… how?” I gaped down at the glass as if it were a foreign species clutched in my palm, and to me, it might as well have been. “Why don’t I smell anything?”
“The silver was mixed… with some kind of chemical… that masked the taste and scent.” Roanas panted the last word, his voice edged with pain. My heart ached at the sight of his pale skin and strained expression. “That’s why none of the others… detected it either.”