by RJ Metcalf
“Come on, Sapphire. We have to move you to a better place to rest.” Slate urged gently, trying to hide his growing panic at her increasing lethargy. He put an arm under hers, and tried to lift her, but she was dead weight now. Jakob and Isak stepped forward.
“We’ll carry her.” They carefully scooped up Sapphire, her head bouncing, eyes rolling back in her head.
Slate raced to the door and nearly got run over by a flushed Brandon, Andre on his heels.
“What’s wrong?” Brandon leaned against the doorway, breathing heavily, then jumped forward when he saw Sapphire in the guards’ arms. “Gem!” He whirled with wild eyes to Slate. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” Slate replied and pulled him aside from the doorway so the guards could keep moving. A whiff of Sapphire’s floral perfume washed over him as she passed. “I came in, she said she still had her headache, she was dizzy and out of it, and then she suddenly started talking about our father and Rose, and how they would be visiting, and something is very wrong.”
Brandon’s flushed face drained of color while Slate was talking. “She was talking of Rose … visiting?” Slate nodded, and Brandon’s expression held another layer of fear. “What in the Void?” He blinked, clearly trying to absorb the implications.
“I have no idea. Come on!” Slate pulled Brandon’s arm as he ran after the guards, his eyes fixed on his sister’s skirt swishing in the air.
Please, please, be OK. What can I do to help? Who can help if Doctor Jaxton isn’t here right now? Can Doctor Walter figure this out? I thought he did more physical injuries? Oh Author, help us! They sprinted past the guards and Sapphire, allowing Andre to pull ahead to holler for people to move out of the way, emergency coming through. They raced to the end of the long hall and skidded as they turned left.
Brandon threw the door open to their chambers and the wall shuddered from the impact. They rushed into the sitting room, nearly running over Clara as she swiveled, drawing her sword in defense of Adeline. Her brow furrowed, and her mouth opened in question, then she gasped as the guards burst through, Sapphire hanging limp in their arms. “Oh, my lady! What happened?” Clara sheathed her sword and jumped for the bedroom door, pushing it open. “Bring her in here. Put her on the bed. Where’s the doctor?” She spun on her heel. “Andre, cover Adeline.”
“We don’t know what happened,” Slate replied as he let the guards pass him, breathing deeply.
Clara looked at Sapphire as her limp form was carried in past her. “Was she poisoned? Who was she with before you?”
Slate thought back, frantically pulling his scattered thoughts together. “Maybe?” He stood just outside the bedroom doorway to watch the guards gently lower his sister onto the bed.
Brandon’s fist hit the table with a loud bang. “But our doctor isn’t in town right now! What do we do?” His tone was agonized and angry all at once. “My wife—”
“We did send someone for Doctor Walter and he should be here soon.” Jakob reassured Brandon while Isak carefully untied Sapphire’s blue ribbon and fanned her hair on the pillow.
Slate looked at his sister. She lay there on the bed, unmoving but for the slow rise and fall of her chest. Hair scattered like a halo around her head, she would have appeared peacefully asleep if not for her flushed cheeks and pale lips.
But what if it was a combination of poisons? Or some new magic that the Reformers somehow used on her? Or something the rebels concocted as a round-about means of getting revenge on Richard for Selvage? Who could help them, if it was worse than it appeared?
A face flashed into mind. An old friend, who’d helped him when he’d been poisoned as a child. The location of his shop flashed into mind. Too far to run on foot.
Slate dashed to the door, shouting over his shoulder. “I’ll be back with help!” He careened down the hallway. “I need a horse!”
Chapter Twenty
Brandon
Slate had been gone for what felt like hours, yet the small logical part of Brandon’s mind told him it was barely a few minutes. But right now, seconds felt like hours and minutes felt like days.
“Where is the doctor that they said was coming? Doesn’t he know we need him now?” Brandon paced by Sapphire’s bedside, unable to leave her, but unable to contain his anxious fear enough to sit. His formal blue jacket was too confining. He pawed at the tabs, loosening them down the side, then ripped it off and flung it to the corner of the room.
He still couldn’t breathe well. The fear was choking him.
A door opened in the main room, followed by an older man’s voice. Finally! Brandon shot out of the bedroom and ran straight for the gentleman in a black top hat. He grabbed the doctor’s arm and pulled him quickly enough that his topper fell off.
Leading the doctor to the bed, he stopped short, launching the older man forward. “Help her. Please.”
Doctor Walter awkwardly offered Brandon a sympathetic smile, then set down his leather bag. He pulled it open and first pulled out a stethoscope, pressing it to her chest, listening.
Brandon resumed his pacing, watching as the doctor examined her pupils, looked at her gums, and checked her temperature.
The doctor looked up at him briefly. “Was she eating or drinking anything prior to this happening?”
Brandon paused mid-step to think. “I believe she’d had tea.”
The doctor sighed. “By all appearances, she’s been poisoned. Her rapid heart rate, dry mouth, flushed skin, dilated pupils …” He gestured with a hand at her prone body. “Lack of consciousness …” Doctor Walters looked at Brandon, his lined face serious. “I need to be frank with you. I don’t specialize in internal medicine. I specialize more in physical medicine, sutures, concussions, broken bones, things that we see often in the citadel. This is outside my field.”
“Do whatever you can do.” Brandon’s patience was beyond frayed. “Please.”
Doctor Walters nodded and reached again into his bag, this time pulling out a vial of something powdered and gray. He dumped some in a glass of water on the nightstand next to him and used a spoon from his bag to stir it, then he started ladling it into Sapphire’s mouth, rubbing her throat gently to encourage her to swallow. “I’m giving her some activated charcoal, to absorb what of the poison we can,” he explained.
Once the cup was empty, he rubbed his hands together, perched over her like a dactyl as he watched. Nothing changed; she didn’t even twitch or make a noise. Walters sighed. “I will try to magically help her. If it’s minor, I can pull the poison toward the charcoal to a degree. That will absorb it, and buy us some time. But we need a specialist, Your Highness.”
“Here.”
Brandon jumped in surprise at Andre’s voice beside him. He turned to see Andre cradling a fussing Adeline in one arm and holding out a teacup with barely anything in it. His aide gently lowered it into a basin and pulled off his white gloves before facing the doctor.
“That’s what Lady Sapphire was drinking in the library, if we can test it—”
A loud bang in the sitting room interrupted them. Richard ran into the room a moment later. He grasped the doorway, eyes wide and wild. “What happened? Is she going to be ok? What is going on?” he exclaimed, chest heaving.
Brandon motioned to Andre to wait, looking at Richard for just a few moments before focusing again on his wife. “She’s been poisoned, we know that much. But with what, when, how she’s doing—” Brandon’s voice cracked with stress. “We don’t know yet.”
Clara left Sapphire’s side and gently took Adeline from Andre, rocking the little princess from side to side as she watched Sapphire, a storm of emotions raging in her eyes.
Brandon looked back at Sapphire, quietly pleading for a change, for anything to give him hope that she would be all right. But nothing seemed different.
Doctor Walters placed a gnarled hand on Sapphire’s smooth forehead. Furrowing his brow, he closed his eyes to concentrate.
After half a minute, he broke away and
staggered back with a gasp. Sweat shone on his forehead. He gaped at her prone form. “I … I don’t recognize this.” He looked at Brandon, concern gleaming even brighter in his eyes. “There’s something in her, something other than the poison. I don’t know what it is.” He shivered despite the warmth of the room. “It was cold. And dark. Otherworldly.” He looked at her again. “So lonely inside.”
Brandon’s heart fell to the ground and shattered. He jolted forward and clambered onto their bed, stretching out to lay next to her. “I’m here. Please don’t be lonely. We’re trying to heal you. Stay with me, Gem, stay with me!” He pleaded, hot tears finally spilling and falling, darkening the pine-green bedspread.
Richard stood frozen in the doorway. Then he focused on Doctor Walters. “You’re saying this was definitely poison?”
The doctor was shaking now, terrified eyes on Sapphire. “Poison, yes, but more than that. Something … darker. I have no idea what.”
“Someone is going after the royal family. They started with Rose, and now they’ve gotten Sapphire!” Richard spun on his heel, shouting out, “Guards! Lock down the castle! No one leaves, no one comes in!” He turned again to look at Brandon. “I promise you, we will find the Void Born who did this. They won’t get away with murder.”
Murder. The word rang in Brandon’s head like a bell. He looked down, gently brushing Sapphire’s hair with trembling fingers. Keep breathing. Don’t leave us.
“Is there anything more you can do?” he begged, looking at Doctor Walters. Before he even finished his question, the doctor was already shaking his head with regret.
“There is nothing more I can do. I’m sorry.” He shrugged helplessly. “Maybe if there was a manipulator who specialized in healing or if we could catch who did this and ask them. Otherwise, there’s nothing more I can do. I don’t know how to efficiently and safely test what she was drinking. She has the charcoal in her system to pull out some of the poison, but I’m at the limit of my resources and knowledge. I just don’t know what else I can do.” His aged eyes met Brandon’s, sorrow radiating out of him. “I’m so sorry.”
Sapphire’s form wavered in Brandon’s watery vision. He leaned forward and kissed her clammy forehead. “Please, fight this. I know you can do it.”
Doctor Walters hesitated, then said quietly, “The best we can do now is say goodbye and pray for a miracle.”
We need our family to come. Who will tell them? Has Garnet returned from her trip? Where did Slate go? He needs to come back. Slate. Brother. I don’t know where you are, but you need to come back. Brandon gripped his wife’s still hand. And bring a miracle with you.
Chapter Twenty-One
Finn
Madame Austen would not stop talking.
Finn moved swiftly through the shop, pulling bottles of herbs down and setting them on the counter while she jabbered on and on. He’d nod every few moments, toss in an “ahh” and “I see” from time to time, and then do his best to tune out everything else. Once he’d grabbed the last jar he needed from a shelf near the front of the shop, Finn walked towards the back counter, schooling his expression to not show the impatience he felt.
The sooner he made her salve, the sooner she’d leave.
Thankfully, she’d been at her work earlier, so she wasn’t wearing one of the ornate, poofy dresses she typically favored that knocked over everything not bolted down. He sidestepped to avoid her skirt and slipped behind the counter. He reached under and grabbed a pre-cut and folded linen and set it to the side near a lit candle, then fetched a large tin, listening with half an ear.
“I warned him not to get too close to the fire, but does he listen? Nooo!” she wailed. Smacking her open palm against the worn counter, she leaned forward, her bodice straining dangerously. “So of course he gets burned! I tell you, if I didn’t love that boy, I wouldn’t even be here, getting this for him.”
Finn tuned her out again to focus on measuring the dry leaves and instinctively doubled the recipe. Anything to give himself a day of reprieve before she returned. He pulled out a solid stone mortar and pestle and ground the leaves together, closing his eyes in concentration while he whispered under his breath. He carefully poured it into the waiting tin and snapped the lid on it with a sigh of relief.
“Ma’am?” He interrupted her monologue, and she blinked at him, startled. He slid the tin across the counter. “It’s ready.” He grabbed the thin cloth and laid it on the tin, unwilling to risk her forgetting and coming back for it. “This should last you several days, if you aren’t being wasteful. Put a large spoonful onto the cloth, fold it, soak it, and place it on the burn. The herbs will remain fresh like this for several days.”
“Oh. Thank you!” She opened a large, hideously beaded bag hanging on her elbow and dropped the tin in. “How much do I owe you?” As she spoke, the sound of shouts of alarm and horse hooves came through the door, and they both paused, listening to the commotion.
“Dear me, what’s going on out there?” she wondered aloud. Finn’s shop door slammed open, and she jumped with an ear-splitting screech.
Finn jerked back, ears ringing. He dropped a hand out of sight, behind the counter.
“Finn! Oh, Finn! You’re here! Thank the Author!” Slate ran past the astounded lady and reached over the counter, grabbing Finn’s shoulders, his hands shaking. “We need you! Now!”
Finn took in the sight of Slate—hair wildly askew, a sheen of sweat covering him, face pale and eyes pleading. Finn flicked his fingers once before settling his hands on Slate’s wrists, gently disengaging his wide-eyed friend. “What’s wrong, my boy? And slowly now, tell me what the emergency is.”
Slate shook his head. “No time for slow. Sapphire’s sick. I don’t know what’s wrong, maybe poison, something else, I don’t know. But Doctor Jaxton isn’t here, and she’s dying.” Slate’s worlds jumbled together in his haste to explain. “Please, I remember you saved Connor and me from those mushrooms. Sapphire needs you.”
Finn looked at the gaping Madame Austen, his mind already whirling with possibilities of what the problem could be. “Today the poultice is on the house. Please excuse me, the shop is now closed.” She took the hint, curtsied in thanks and walked out, glancing over her shoulder again before she left.
Great. Now all the city will know what’s going on before the day ends.
Finn grabbed his travel bag from under the counter and immediately started throwing jars of herbs and spices into it. He looked at Slate. “Tell me everything. Don’t leave out any details, no matter how insignificant you think they are,” he commanded.
Slate took a deep breath and started explaining his story, words spilling out in a cascade of horror: Sapphire’s headache, the tea, the weakness, the hallucinations. Slate looked at him after taking another deep breath, eyes terrified. “She thought Father and Rose were still alive.” He whispered. “Finn. How could—”
“She had the tea before the hallucinations started?” Finn interrupted as he grabbed two cylindrical white stones from the shelf behind the counter. Maybe this was something simple, from a jilted servant of the palace. He scanned his jars. What would someone of lower income have readily available that they’d give her?
“Yes. She said she’d only had a little before she spilled it, so I don’t know how much she really had.” Slate’s eyes shone with unshed tears. “Do you think it was poison?”
Finn didn’t dare answer that question when Slate was this emotional. “What condition was she in when you left? Was she still hallucinating?”
“No. She passed out while we moved her from the library to their room.”
“Whales!” Finn swore. He slung the bag carefully over his head and shoulder and pushed Slate towards the door. “We need to move quickly! Tell me you have a horse with you.”
“Yes, I took two of the palace horses.” Slate turned to watch Finn flip the sign as they hurried out into the sunlight.
Two horses with saddles embossed with the palace’s colors and crest wa
ited just outside the Apothecary. They each tossed their heads back as Slate rushed toward them. Slate rubbed his horse’s mane with a whispered apology, then mounted. Finn pulled himself up on his horse and glanced at the shop door, narrowing his eyes.
A very faint thud reached his ears, and he nodded, satisfied. He nodded to Slate. “We race the clock. Go.”
Slate needed no urging. With a mighty “yeaw!” he took off for the palace, dust flying up behind him. Finn urged his steed to run as well, leaning over the horse’s head to improve his speed. Please let us make it in time, he prayed.
It was a quieter day in the city streets, for which Finn was beyond grateful. They raced the road at breakneck speed, and people yelled as they had to jump out of the way, but Finn didn’t respond to their shouts and swears. He kept his eyes on Slate, watching the lad’s jacket puff with air resistance. Finn knew the way to the palace probably better than even Slate did, but he was content letting his panicked friend lead.
They galloped up to the gleaming white palace and through the large gates. A crowd milled outside. Slate jumped off his horse, racing to the entry and the two guards standing before the closed palace doors. “Why are the doors closed?” Slate exclaimed.
One of the guards standing in front of it answered, barely looking at him. “The palace is on lockdown and will remain on lockdown until further notice. Orders of Prince Richard.”
Finn dismounted slowly, letting the words sink into him while watching Slate turn different shades of white and red.
“Let me in! James! You know me! I’m Second Lieutenant Slate Stohner of the Palace Guard, brother to the Lady Sapphire! This is an emergency!” He shouted, staring up at the ornate doors.
Finn watched Slate exchange words with the guard to no avail. Time was ticking, if it wasn’t already too late. Finn looked to the side of the palace, where guards stood at each door. Did he dare reveal what he knew? Could he be so selfish to even contemplate not doing all he could? He strode toward Slate, determined. A man in unique black leather armor pulled Slate away from the guard, and Slate turned, arm raised to lash out. He stopped and started gesturing wildly at the palace.