Chapter 20
It wasn’t the first time I died feeling completely numb. Last time I had at least been staring into the glow of a fire, but this time I was blinded by the icy waters of my new grave.
Everything went black after I crashed through the ice, my final thoughts filled with Cassian’s heartbroken eyes that shattered worse than the river’s surface.
I didn’t even remember being cold, but any nerves that were still responding were flooded with excruciating pain until I felt nothing at all.
After that, drowning was almost peaceful.
The water floated around me, cradling me in its embrace until it felt like I was lying comfortably in my own bed.
No, not like my bed. This one wasn’t made of ice and fur pelts.
A plush pillow cradled my head, easing the pain that was slowly pushing me awake. Everything was so soft and warm, and the scent of freshly washed cotton and herbs roused me awake. My eyes fluttered open, my lashes sticking together like they would have gladly remained glued closed forever.
Am...am I alive?
My fingers brushed the underside of the heavy quilt that was tucked up to my chin, and I was staring straight up at the A-frame roof of what appeared to be a log cabin.
The herby scent I’d noticed earlier was almost overpowering now, burning the inside of my nose and making my freshly opened eyes water.
I turned my head to the side, my neck stiff and achy like it was attached with only a few loose screws.
A pleasant fire crackled just across from the bed I was tucked into, and dozens of leafy green plants spilled out of pots from every nook, cranny, and corner.
It was all too warm to be Cassian’s castle, but it was too unfamiliar to be Blamore’s.
So where was I?
“Goodness! You’re awake!” A scratchy voice crackled in sync with the fire, and I sat up a touch to see a short old woman hurrying to my side.
She had deep-set wrinkles that seemed to force her to frown, but her eyes sparkled like golden stars, and her silver hair seemed to glisten in the firelight like I was looking at an angel.
“Sit still, dear. Let me fetch you some tea.”
She hurried to the fire, grabbing a warm kettle from it and a couple of mismatched teacups that were stained and chipped. Despite her instructions, I shoved my pillow back to try and sit up further, my core struggling to make the small move and my head regretting the attempt.
“Who...who are you?” My voice was almost as scratchy as hers, and I found myself licking my parched lips as I watched her pour the sweet-smelling tea.
“What did I tell you about sitting still?” the woman scolded as she placed the piping hot cup of tea in my hands. “You’re going to rush too much blood to your head too quickly. I practically had to let you thaw for the last few days after the river spat you out.”
“I came out of the river?” I rasped.
“You were floating along on a chunk of broken ice like it was some sort of raft,” she said, taking a seat on a wobbly stool that creaked terribly. “The name’s Wilma. I’m just an old apothecary who’s trying to keep my plants alive while I wait out the winter.”
That certainly made sense. The stacks of fresh plants and their strong aromas felt almost unnatural while the rest of the kingdom was dressed in white.
I took a small taste of my tea, and the warm drink danced on my tongue like the finest wine.
How long had it been since I’d consumed something warm?
“That’s my special blend. It should have you feeling better soon.” Wilma nodded toward the tea, her eyes twinkling even brighter as my head indeed started to clear.
“Thank you,” I said, testing my voice. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Let’s see...” She tapped a long nail to her chin, her thoughtful pause making me nervous that I asked.
“It’s been nearly two days since I dragged you here.
Truth be told, I wasn’t sure you were going to wake up at all.
Anyone who falls in water that cold is sure to die within minutes, but even though you were sopping wet, it was as if the cold hadn’t touched you at all. ”
“It didn’t?”
Had Cassian protected me somehow?
I glanced around the room for any mirrors or other reflections I could search for the king in, but the earthy décor and wooden walls didn’t leave any polished surfaces to be found.
“By some magic, here you are,” Wilma said.
Magic…
“Wilma, did I have a bag with me when you brought me here?” I sat up a little straighter, my heart racing as I recalled the last match left inside.
Wilma pointed toward the bedpost where the bag was hanging, and I rummaged through it until I found the matchbox.
I pulled it open, and my heart sank as I looked at the softened stick that had been drenched in the river and the withered matchhead. “Oh, no...”
I attempted to strike it, but the stick fell apart in my fingers. The last of my magic was dead, and Cassian had been on his own for two days. Did he even know I was alive?
“I-I have to go!” I threw my legs over the side of the bed, my soles barely feeling the rough floor as I tried to put my weight on them. My ankle immediately rolled, and I found myself grabbing onto the bedpost to keep from tumbling to the ground.
“Whoa there!” Wilma grabbed my arm, easing me back up to the bed with a surprising amount of strength.
“You’re in no place to go anywhere. Did you forget the part where I said you nearly froze to death?
” She pressed a palm to my forehead, her fingers chilly as her frown deepened.
“You’re feverish too. You’ll need to stay in bed. ”
“I can’t.” I shook her hand off me, regretting the quick movement as pain pulsed behind my eye. “I need to get back up the mountain before...” I bit my lip, looking down at my bare feet and blackening toenails. “Before I can’t get up again.”
Wilma followed my gaze, a small gasp parting her lips as she noticed the distinct signs of the disease. “You’re infected...”
“You’ve seen blackwood poisoning before?” I asked. It was rare that anyone knew about it this early in the timeline, but then again it had probably been a month since I’d first left the castle.
“There’s not much I haven’t heard of,” Wilma said, grabbing my teacup to pop a few more leaves inside. “Fever aside, you’re in no condition to hike.”
“Please, I can’t stay here,” I said, as she handed me back the doctored tea. “Do you have anything I can use to walk with? A cane perhaps?”
“I have a soft bed and a warm cup of tea,” Wilma said sternly. “Now drink up. Your body needs to recover more before you take on any more cold. If you still wish to leave in the morning, I’ll help you along, but I can’t have you wandering out in this state.”
She was probably right, but that didn’t keep my heart from aching for the king. He must have been worried sick about me, and I was certainly worried about him. Did Blamore make it up the mountain already?
“Do you at least have a mirror I could use?” I asked hopefully. “Or even just something reflective?”
“Afraid not, dear,” Wilma said. “I don’t really care enough about my appearance to keep a mirror around, but the bottom of that cup is silver. If you drink down your tea, you can flip it over and take a look.”
The tea was even more appealing than ever. I sipped it as fast as I could, trying not to burn my tongue as I eagerly drained the cup.
“That’s a good girl,” Wilma said, voice so soothing and calm. “You’ll feel better in the morning. You’ve just had a hard day.”
She was right. My limbs were aching from my brush with death, and my head was pounding from fever, but the tea fixed all of that.
The aching in my head went away, and my throat felt smooth and refreshed.
I was rather tired, but I couldn’t leave until morning anyway, so I decided to lie back down in the bed.
It couldn’t hurt to wait one more day.
Or perhaps two more.
The bed was very comfortable, and the tea Wilma brought me was always delicious. I enjoyed a cup with her every day, and another in the evenings to help me sleep. I could never quite remember getting to the bottom of the cup though, but that was all right since she never hesitated to bring me more.
We spent the evenings chatting about the blissful quiet of the mountains and the wonderful progress of the plants that were blooming around us. It was so lovely to watch them grow all the way from seed to tall, luscious herbs.
The cottage was always so warm, but my fingers and legs never stopped feeling stiff.
I covered my legs with a quilt most of the time, deciding it was better not to think about the discomfort.
Tending the fire became my job while Wilma went out to chop wood.
She was so kind, always insisting that I stay inside since I was sick.
My headache was long gone, but I knew my legs were getting rough. It was no matter, though. I didn’t need to walk much to move around the cozy cabin. The plants didn’t care whether or not I could stand; they were just as rooted to one place as I was.
Being paralyzed wasn’t so bad.