Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
But that’s too bad.
“If you will not take me to my mother, I will go myself,” I say sharply. “She still lives—does she not? Please, tell me she still lives!”
“Yes, my Lady.” It’s one of the other guards in the battalion. “Your Royal Lady-Mother is still living.”
“Good—then I am going to see her.”
I start to march up the rolling hill, right past Sir Horace, but he catches me by the arm.
At first I’m afraid he’s going to detain me for questioning, but to my relief, he’s simply helping me up the hill. Which is fine—the slippers I’m wearing aren’t exactly meant for climbing.
“I thank you, Sir Horace,” I say to him as we reach the top. “And now, I must seek my Royal Mother.”
I hurry past him to find the back entrance of the castle, which leads to the dungeon. I’m afraid it might be barred again—and remembering that huge, heavy bar that Valen lifted, I know there’s no way I can get in if that’s the case.
However, the door is open—it must be the way that Sir Horace and his men came out.
I rush through it quickly, trying not to remember my escape with Valen…our contest of wills…the bargain we struck…the way his muscles bunched as he lifted the heavy wooden bar…the feeling of his fangs piercing my thigh for the very first time…
Pushing all that out of my mind, I navigate the dank, dark dungeon and hurry up the long flight of stairs leading to the upper part of the castle.
I catch a few surprised looks as I hurry along the corridors. Some of the Nobles stare after me with wide eyes—as though they’d seen a ghost. A few try to ask me questions, but I have no time. I must get to my mother while the Healing Draught is still effective. The Lady of Thornmere warned me that I must get it to her while it’s still warm and even now I feel it cooling against my leg.
At last I reach her room, with its guardian statue of the Angel of the One Goddess. I rush inside and find there is no one with her—she’s alone in the middle of her bed.
My breath catches in my throat as I study her—she looks so much worse than the last time I saw her! Her once voluptuous figure is shrunken and her skin is gray. Her chest barely raises and falls at all. Her hair is thin and completely white now—it’s like this illness is leaching away all the color from her body as well as all her energy.
I feel a burst of anger—why is no one here to attend her? Why isn’t the Head Healer here, trying to treat her? Why does she not even have a maid to give her water and watch over her?
No matter—I’m here now and she’s still alive. I reach into the pocket of my skirt and pull out the small vial of Healing Draught—it’s a pale blue bottle and I can see the golden liquid inside it.
“Mother? Mama?” I say, coming over to the bed. It’s vast with its green and gold brocade canopy and its sweeping golden columns. I climb onto the broad, soft mattress and kneel beside her.
“Mama?” I say again but she doesn’t move—doesn’t appear to hear me at all.
Gently, I stroke her forehead.
“Mama, please come back to me,” I whisper.
At last her eyelids flicker and she opens her eyes, just a slit.
“Oh, Irena…my child.” Her voice is softer than a sigh—I wouldn’t know what she was saying if her lips weren’t also moving.
“I’m back, Mama,” I say, fighting down the tears that are rising to my eyes. “I brought something to heal you.”
She shakes her head—a faint, back and forth motion.
“Head Healer says…no use. Nothing can stop…death from…claiming me.”
“He’s wrong!” I say fiercely. “Please, Mama—I have something here that will help you—I promise.” I hold up the blue glass bottle.
Her eyes widen slightly.
“What…?” she breathes.
“A cure—a Healing Draught,” I tell her. “Come on now…just do your best to swallow it.”
I unstopper the bottle and the most amazing scent fills the room…it’s like ripe apples and spring wildflowers and fresh baked cinnamon bread all at once swirling in the air around us.
“Ohhh,” my mother breathes and already I think I can see a bit of pink in her cheeks.
Hope makes my heart pound. If even the scent of the golden liquid is healing, then the Draught itself will surely cure her completely!
“Come on…let’s get this in you,” I say briskly. I cradle her head in my arm and tilt the bottle to her lips. “Easy now…one sip at a time,” I say, tilting the bottle and letting just a trickle of the golden liquid slip into her mouth.
She swallows slowly and her eyes go wide.
“Oh, it’s good,” she whispers, but already her voice is stronger and her cheeks are pinker.