Nándor mussitated, a dark glare burning at Garrick.
Unfazed by the death threats, he continued magniloquently. “Ruya! Come back to me, Ruya!”
The only thing that saved Garrick from a bloodied face was the quiet words, “She’s waking.”
The miasmal gloom surrounding Nándor lifted when he saw the conscious Ruya. Concern etched his face when he saw her wince at the light. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Alim said, bringing a vial of cloudy liquid with him. “She is suffering the effects of a megrim.”
Ruya took the vial but hesitated.
“It is nothing more than a simple mithridate,” Alim assured.
“She was poisoned?” Nándor’s moil was evident. “When?”
Alim shook his head. That is not what I meant. This one is for when the body poisons itself.” He offered the vial to her. “Take it. It will help,” he urged.
Ruya took the vial and drank. She was surprised by the mellifluous taste.
Alim nodded in satisfaction. “I found this mithridate in a text hidden away in a recess. The ancient language is hard to decipher, but it holds so much knowledge. It is a truly astounding book.”
He motioned for Nándor. “Let her rest now.”
“We don’t know where to find him or even the route he’s taking,” Garrick said.
“I can help with that.”
They jumped from their seats and moved to the doorway where Ruya stood. They led her to a chair. “How do you feel, princess?”
“Better.” She smiled at Garrick but her expression quickly became a maelstrom. “I know how to get there and when he will.”
With that, she told them.