She made notes of her own on using comfrey for burns, milk thistle for sprains. How to prepare echinacea for its many uses. She glanced up when she saw Doyle some distance away on the lawn, apparently making something out of . . . canvas or burlap.
Alone, of course, she thought with a twinge of resentment.
She spotted Riley cresting the little rise, coming toward the pool carrying two wide-mouthed glasses filled with icy liquid.
“Magnificent Margaritas,” Riley said, and held one out.
“Thanks.”
“Still mad?”
Sasha took a sip—it was pretty magnificent. “I’m tired of being mad.”
“Then I’m sitting down. Heavy reading,” she added with a glance at the thick book with its carved leather binding.
“I’m going to learn how to help Bran treat injuries.”
“You did a lot of that this morning, without the book. I didn’t handle myself very well,” Riley continued. “Changing in front of an audience—and I was a little racked up initially. And Apollo . . .”
“Where is he?”
“He went down to the beach with Annika. He’s fine. Like nothing happened.”
“And you?”
“Like I said, if I’m injured as the wolf, I heal fast, even after the change. Look, I get a lie of omission is still a lie, but—”
“You took an oath.”
“I took one to you, too.”
There it was, Sasha thought. And the rest of her anger cooled knowing her friend understood.
“Yeah, you did. And now that I’m tired of being mad, I can see you’d taken steps to keep both, and quickly. It seems like forever, Riley, and it’s been days. Just days. They won’t lock you up.”
“You don’t have any say there.”
“Oh, I think I will.” She drank again. “I think we all will. And they’re just going to have to listen.”
“When did you get to be such a badass?”
“Maybe since I’ve stopped asking myself why me. If people think I’m weak, if Nerezza thinks I am, it’s because I have been. She can keep thinking that, it may be an advantage. But no one else is going to. Including me.”
“If it matters, I never thought you were weak. You’re dealing just fine with a real steep learning curve. Let’s go back just one month. Did you believe in witches a month ago?”
“I dreamed of one—of him—but no. No, I didn’t really believe.”
“In lycans?”
“Absolutely not. I’m still working on that one.”
“But here you are, and that’s so not weak. Magic compasses, magic spells, transformations. Whatever Annika’s got tucked away other than the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter’s likely to be less of a jolt to me, considering my background and upbringing.”
“You think there’s something, too.”
“How can anyone be that happy—and there’s that sack of coins. I’d lean toward faerie, but when I think of faeries, I think cagey. She doesn’t come off cagey.”
“You’re going to tell me faeries exist.”