Sahlma was washing the blood from her hands in the next room, her face sagging and sallow. “A shame,” she said. “A stars-forsaken shame.” More softly, she said, “No mother should be without her child.”
“You did your best,” I said dully. “But please tell me . . . is there any hope for Kate?”
“No,” Sahlma said, rising. “There’s nothing within the laws of nature that can possibly save either of them now.”
My heart sank, but Sahlma continued, “I think, however, there’s a solution outside of the laws of nature.” She reached inside her pocket and brought out a medicine dropper capsule.
“What is that?”
“It’s bloodleaf petal potion,” she said.
My heart quickened. Nearly incoherent with hope, I asked, “What? Where did you come by . . . how?
”
“There was another time. Another mother, like her, wanted to save her child, took her own life to do it. I managed only one petal that time. I should have given the whole thing to the child, but I had realized, not long before, that there was something wrong inside me. A cancer. And I . . . and I . . . I didn’t want to die. So I distilled the petal into a serum. I gave the little boy just enough to get him past the worst of his illness, and then I kept the rest for myself. I’ve extended my life with it, drop by drop, for almost twelve years now, assuaging my guilt by telling myself that if it wasn’t for me, he’d have died anyway.” She placed the capsule in my hands. “Even still, all night, I’ve been hoping I wouldn’t have to use it. Arguing with myself against just giving it away to a stranger, but I think . . . I think it may be time to finally let go. There are two, maybe three drops left. Enough for one of them at least.”
“You’re making the choice to die?”
“Better to choose it for myself than to have it chosen for me.” Her eyes were glistening. “I’ve done many things of which I am not proud. I knew that someday, if my son was waiting on the other side, I’d have to make an accounting to him, and I couldn’t bear the thought. But now I’m not afraid anymore, and I think I’ve put off our reunion long enough.” She gathered her things. “A mother should never have to be without her child.”
26
When Sahlma was gone, I returned to the bedroom. Kate turned her tear-stained face to me as I entered.
“I keep praying to the Empyrea that this isn’t real. I’ll do anything she asks. I just want my baby to live, Emilie.”
I pulled out Sahlma’s capsule. “I might have an answer,” I said gently. “It’s a potion made from a bloodleaf flower. There’s only a drop or two left. We can give one to each of you. It’s our best chance now.”
She kissed her baby and held her closer. “I don’t want it. Give it all to her.”
“Think of Nathaniel. He needs you. Please, Kate. Take it.”
“He’s stronger than I am. He always has been. He will heal, and live a good life. But if I take some, and she dies, I won’t be able to live with myself.”
“If you don’t take it . . .” I trailed off. I didn’t know how to tell her.
“I’m not a fool, Emilie. I know what Dedrick said to me. ‘Nihil nunc salvet te.’ I know what it means. What if I take it, and you lose us both anyway? This way, I can die knowing I did everything I could for her.”
I took a deep breath and nodded slowly. My heart was too sore to try to argue. A mother should never have to be without her child. “Then, here. Give her to me.”
With the baby in my lap, I opened the vial and held the dropper above the infant’s parted lips.
One, two. Two drops.
Nothing happened.
This was madness. What had I just done?
Live, I willed the child. Live.
I handed the baby back to Kate, unable to speak.
“Look,” she said.
I watched in wonder as warmth began to spread again over the baby’s arms, and legs, and down her torso, and to her toes. Two rosy circles began to form on her gray cheeks. And then she gave a sigh.
Then eyelids fluttered. She opened her eyes.