My Second Chance Mate is a Barbarian (Sera and Fenris) novel Chapter 85

Sera

"Set the bowl on the table. Do not spill the water."

My mother’s voice was completely steady. The panicked, stammering Queen was gone. The witch had taken over.

The second Ironmaw guard hurried into the council chamber. He carried a wide, heavy stone basin in his left hand and a thick iron kettle wrapped in leather in his right. Steam billowed from the spout of the kettle. He set both items down on the cracked wooden table and immediately took a large step back.

Irina didn't look at him. She walked up to the table. She untied the cloth bundle I had given her and dumped the dark, wet soil from the hidden garden directly into the stone bowl. She grabbed the small clay jar of raw animal fat from my hands and scooped the thick, white grease out with her bare fingers, dropping it into the dirt.

"Pour the water," Irina ordered the guard.

The guard looked at Fenris for permission. Fenris gave a single, tight nod.

The guard lifted the heavy kettle and poured the boiling water over the fat and soil.

The reaction was instant. The mixture hissed violently. A thick, grey plume of steam rose from the bowl, hitting the ceiling. The smell hit the back of my throat. It didn't smell like dirt. It smelled like burning ozone, struck flint, and hot copper.

Irina pulled the thick-veined leaves from her pocket. She crushed them in her fist and dropped the fragments into the boiling water.

She plunged her bare hands directly into the scalding mixture.

I flinched. The water was literally bubbling, but my mother didn't scream. She didn't even wince. She kneaded the dirt, the melting fat, and the crushed leaves together, her fingers moving with rapid, practiced efficiency. The water evaporated quickly, binding the ingredients into a thick, dark grey clay.

"Is this permanent?" Yvara asked. She stood three feet away, her hand resting on the hilt of her dagger. She watched the magic with deep, unfiltered suspicion.

"The clay binds to the bone," Irina answered without looking up. She scooped the heavy, steaming mass of clay out of the bowl. "It forces the cartilage and the flesh to reshape themselves to the exact mold. Once it sets, it does not wash off. It does not fade."

Irina turned around. She held the steaming grey mass in her bare hands. She looked down at Kael.

Kael was lying on his back. The healer was still pressing his bloody hands against Kael’s broken neck. Kael’s chest heaved. He stared up at my mother, his eyes wide, manic, and completely terrified.

"Move," Irina told the healer.

The healer looked completely horrified. He scrambled backward, sliding on the bloody stone floor to get away from the southern witch.

Irina dropped to her knees right beside Kael’s head.

Kael tried to thrash. He tried to turn his head away, letting out a wet, desperate gurgle, but the jagged piece of bone sticking out of his throat completely paralyzed him. He couldn't move his neck.

Irina leaned over him. She pressed the scalding hot clay directly over Kael's face.

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