The king and queen shared a long look, and a quietness filled the air as they spoke in a language only they understood mind to mind. They could have been speaking a long-forgotten language for all Luci cared. What was important now was Brielle.
“I need to go,” Luci murmured, pushing back her chair.
The doors opened as Luci stood, and everything she was fell at her feet in ruins. None of her accomplishments, none of her joys, her triumphs mattered. She would have traded it all and more to unsee the image before her. There stood Prince Ira with Brielle’s limp body in his arms.
Chapter nineteen
Thorns
A rose may be beautiful, but it also has thorns.
-Tales from Merida, Volume II
Sleep was a hazy dream that never felt real enough to matter, but just enough to be unsettling. There was no escaping into peaceful absolution because Brielle’s whimpers and mad ramblings always broke through Luci’s subconscious.
“Luci,” she murmured.
Crawling out from her cocoon of blankets, Luci fought through the sheen of half-sleep and brought her hand to Brielle’sforehead. Still too hot. None of her usual remedies or Noah’s made much of a dent in her temperature.
Sitting up, Luci brushed blond strands from Brielle’s face, revealing a face full of raised red dots that ran over her nose and her cheeks, creating an ominous butterfly pattern. It was worse than she’d ever seen it, and no amount of creams could bring it down.
“I’m here, what do you need?” Luci asked.
Brielle turned her head back and forth, eyes squinting and lips twisted in pain. Everything in Luci shattered like glass upon the floor. She reached for her friend’s hand and squeezed, but Brielle couldn’t even muster up the strength or awareness to hold it back.
“The rose was beautiful, but the thorns always drew blood,” Brielle murmured before crying out.
Fresh tears that should have long dried out dripped down Luci’s cheeks. It was one thing to see someone you loved sick, but Brielle was trapped in some imaginary world that felt real to her, but only caused pain.
Sunlight poured through the room they shared, illuminating a room in chaos. Various bowls of soups, tinctures, and elixirs of every color, and cloths and rags littered every available space. They tried everything. Not even soaking Brielle in cold water could break the fevers; it just put her into an agony while she yelled about beasts and claws.
Luci climbed out of the bed and made for a wash basin in front of the window, dipping a fresh cloth in its peppermint water. Two days of this, and for the first time since Luci returned from Picadilly street, she was forced to consider that this might be it. That Brielle might not come back from this one.
Shaking her head, she refused to give life to the intrusive thought. Brielle always pulled through. This time would be no different. Not to mention, Noah was working day and night totry to find a way through. If anyone could do it, it was him. Brielle would have told Luci to have faith, and so she would.
Luci gently climbed back onto the bed and laid the damp towel on Brielle, who shivered beneath it. Placing her hand over Brielle’s heart, she counted the beats. One hundred and twenty-three. Far too fast. She didn’t dare give her anymore elixirs until Noah returned with his most recent attempt. There was a gentle balance to herbal remedies– too much could prove fatal if he didn’t hurry soon, though she would have to intervene. Brielle’s heart couldn’t keep working at this pace.
As if summoned, a knock sounded on the door, and when Luci opened her mouth to tell him to come in, her voice came out hoarse from disuse.
The door opened, and Luci’s hopes quickly plummeted. Instead of Noah, Prince Ira stood, hands in his pocket, brown hair disheveled as if he’d been running his hands through it. Even his face was pale, devoid of his usual bright coloring. He sniffed, wrinkling his nose before recovering quickly. She knew it smelled horrid. Between all the herbs and burning incense inlaid with peppermint, it was a dreadful symphony of aromas that felt too chaotic to be soothing.
“How is she?” he asked.
Luci shook her head, unable to give life to the words.
“I thought you were Noah. She needs something for the fever,” she said, smoothing back Brielle’s damp hair.
“I’ll go see where he’s at with his progress,” he said.
Luci nodded.
“It was cold in the dungeon– so very cold.” Brielle whimpered.
Fresh tears burned in Luci’s eyes. This was the worst sort of penance she could imagine.
“Shh– it’s all right, Brielle. You aren’t in a dungeon. You are in the castle with me. Safe.” Luci murmured.
“I’m leaving first thing in the morning for the flower.” Prince Ira said.