Golden Stair Read Free Page B

it absorbed what little light the sliver of moon provided.
     
    Ivy squinted, trying to figure out what had put that panicked tone in her voice. The older woman raised her face and cold sweat broke out on Ivy’s brow at the sight of the blood oozing from cuts along her mother’s forehead, her blood glittering tar in the darkness.
     
    “Mother! Hold on.”
     
    She ran back to the pile of her hair still looped next to her seat by the fire. The braid writhed in her arms like a shimmering gold python with sun embers for scales. She resolutely gathered the loops of hair into her arms and rushed back to the window.
     
    “Mother, just hold on.” She threw a length of her hair over the iron hook attached to the eave over her window and pushed the rest over the balcony.
     
    Did her mother have the strength to cling to the make-shift rope?
     
    Dame Gothel put her foot firmly against the bit of braid trailing on the ground and then pulled up the end and wrapped it around her palm, effectively turning the hair into a simple harness. Ivy bit her lip, reminding herself that her mother did this every evening. Even if she was injured, she managed to hold on while Ivy pulled her up, so there was no reason to worry now. The braid went taut as Ivy pulled. She gritted her teeth, determined to get her mother up to safety as quickly as she could. A few heart-pounding moments later, her mother reached the top and tumbled over the balcony onto the floor.
     
    “Mother!” Ivy cried out. She rushed to her mother’s side, gently pushing her hair out of the way so she could see the wounds. Some of the charcoal tendrils were matted in dried blood and Ivy bit her lip to hold back a whimper.
     
    “Ivy,” Dame Gothel murmured. The sleeve of her murky green cloak fell down to her shoulder, revealing several bleeding, jagged cuts on her forearms as she weakly groped at Ivy’s hand. “My beloved daughter, I was afraid I’d never see you again.”
     
    The scent of copper filled the air, every metallic note tugging a cord deep inside Ivy’s gut, pulling at primal instincts, warning her of just how bad her mother’s injuries were. Every time Dame Gothel moved, the scent of blood thickened and Ivy was afraid to examine the rest of her mother’s body.
     
    “Don’t say that,” Ivy insisted adamantly. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
     
    Chest tightening with the fear she was trying to repress, Ivy quickly gathered the herbs she needed. The healing journals she’d read spun through her mind, supplying her with the information to help her mother. She returned to her mother’s side with a bowl of water, a rag, and the herbs. As gently as she could, she cleaned her mother’s wounds. She had to rip the bodice of her dress to get at the deep gouge in her stomach and Ivy swallowed hard at the sight of her mother’s insides threatening to spill from the gaping slash. She bit her lip and finished cleaning the flesh then sprinkled the herbs over the damage.
     
    As she pressed the herbs between her fingers, Ivy reached down inside herself for the warmth of her power. It rose like warm honey, sliding from her core to flow down her arms and fingertips to infuse the herbs as she sprinkled them. Golden light soaked into the bits of plant as they sparkled on their descent, falling like warm snowflakes on her mother’s skin. She imagined her mother’s insides perfect and healthy, willing the warm power flowing from her fingers to make it so. The blood stopped seeping from the wounds and her mother sucked in a sharp breath as the flesh knitted. A few moments later, there was no sign she’d ever been hurt.
     
    “I don’t know what I would do without you,” Dame Gothel said quietly.
     
    Her sable eyes glittered in the light from the crystals and the fire, looking somehow cold despite the firelight. She cupped Ivy’s cheek in her cool, pale hand, sending a shiver down Ivy’s spine despite the warm affection of the gesture. Then abruptly