Chapter 21
Morning greeted me with its familiar glow pouring in through the frosted windows. I stretched my arms to life, ignoring the lack of movement in my fingers as I looked over to see sweet Wilma making her own bed on the far side of the cabin.
“Good morning, Safara,” she said sweetly, stepping over some freshly potted rosemary to grab my morning tea. “You look well rested. I’ve only just made the tea, so give it a few moments before you take a drink.”
“Thank you, Wilma,” I said, gingerly accepting the cup with my palms more than my fingers. My nails were completely black now, but I could cover them up with my gloves if they got too annoying. “It smells delicious.”
“I’m glad you think so,” she said cheerfully, pulling her cloak over her shoulders. “Be sure to drink it while it’s hot. I’m just going to step outside and see if my snowdrops have started to bloom yet.”
“Very well, I’ll tend to the fire while you’re out.”
“Splendid, I’ll bring you some more wood then.” She waved, pulling open the heavy door that let in a frightfully cold chill. I shivered all the way down to my useless toes, wondering how it had gotten so cold in such a short amount of time.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, letting gravity do most of the work until my bare toes hit the floor. They were feeling a little worse than normal, but I was sure I could stand if I just braced myself on the wall a bit.
The fire flickered dimly, calling me to feed it before I indulged in my morning tea. I steadied myself against the wall, managing to stand on my own for maybe a second before my knee buckled and sent me crashing to the floor.
Oh, bother.
I crashed into the bedside table, spilling my teacup and spilling the hot contents all over the floor, Wilma would be so disappointed if I didn’t finish my tea.
She worked so hard on filling it with good herbs to help me feel better.
I used my quilt to mop up the spill as best as I could, then grabbed the teacup as I climbed back up to the edge of the bed.
It was a shame I didn’t get a chance to drink any of the tea, but at least I could finally see the bottom of the cup. Wilma was right, it was gorgeously shiny, reflecting my tired eyes back at me. My gaze looked so hazy and clouded. It was a good thing I had taken the time to rest.
And then the gaze turned blue.
I gasped, the air tasting colder somehow now that I wasn’t inhaling the tea’s steam. I blinked my eyes, but when I looked back into the cup, only my own hazy pupils looked back at me. Had I imagined those blue ones...? I couldn’t have, I’d definitely seen them before...
The snow king.
Cassian’s face came flooding back to my mind, but everything felt blurry.
I pressed a hand to my forehead, my heart jumping when I realized my fingers were responding to my requests.
I looked down at my other hand, panic flaring in my veins as I saw how much the disease had made me wither.
My fingertips looked as if I’d been picking through charcoal, and my nail beds were long dead.
How long had I been here?
I stumbled out of bed, using any furniture I could to hold myself upright.
My legs barely responded, unable to take my full weight anymore.
The panic got worse as I tried to remember the last time the poison had progressed this far.
I didn’t lose the ability to walk until only a few weeks before I. ..
Had I been here for months?
I found a basin of water, and practically dunked my face in it to try and wake up from whatever trance I was trapped in. The scent of that tea still lingered in the air, and I gulped down as much of the clean water as I could stomach until I could at least remember where I was.
The last thing I remembered was waking up two days after falling into the river. Everything since then has been a blur.
Cassian!
“Cassian? Are you there?” I hunted for a reflection in the water, struggling to find a clear one after I’d sloshed it all around. “Cassian, it’s Safara!”
The door swung open, sending another dreadful chill down my spine as Wilma entered. Her cloak was dusted in white, her dark hood pulled low over her eyes so I could only see her tight frown.
“Goodness, what are you doing on the floor?” she asked, still holding the hatchet in her hand from chopping firewood. “You should be in bed.”
She was going to let me die here.
“What have you done to me?” I asked, my voice shaking as I looked down at my dying hands.
“Pardon?” She set down the hatchet, calmly approaching me with a terrifyingly convincing look of concern. “I’ve been helping you recover, dear.”
“How long have I been here?” I screamed, startling the woman back. She looked over at the empty teacup, her eyes widening. “What was in that tea?”
Her sweet concern dropped, her shoulders sinking as she seemed to age another year before my eyes.
“Two months,” she said calmly.
“What?” I couldn’t breathe, my lungs inflating, but feeling no relief from the pain swelling up in my chest. “No...that can’t be true.”
“Listen to me, Safara,” she said, her voice chilling. “Everything I did was for your own good.”
This can’t be real.
I pulled myself to my feet, clawing at the walls as hot tears pooled in the corners of my eyes. I couldn’t have possibly left Cassian alone for that long. This had to be a nightmare.
“Safara, what are you doing?” she asked, approaching me like she was going to try and trap me once more.
“Don’t touch me!” I barked, my back pressed against the wall as I tried to catch my breath. “I’m done being your prisoner.”
I grabbed a cane I’d seen resting behind the curtain and used it to bear my weight. It was crooked and wobbly, but it at least allowed me to move independently. I moved back to the bed, grabbing my boots, cloak, and bag.
“You can’t go out there,” Wilma argued as she watched me prepare to leave, but she didn’t stand in my way either. “The storms have worsened.”
“I know,” I said brusquely, my heart tensing as I imagined the pain Cassian was dealing with.
“You’re already dying,” Wilma reasoned. “You should stay here and enjoy your time with me, not go out and freeze to death alone.”
“Don’t tell me how to die,” I snapped, stamping my foot on the ground enough to loosely shove on my boot. “I know perfectly well where I want to spend my final days, and it’s not here. There are people who need me.”
“Who? The snow king?” Wilma said, his name sounding bitter on her lips. “He’s gone too. His palace burned down a month ago.”
What?
“No...” I breathed. “That can’t be true...”
Wilma’s expression softened, and she took her usual seat on her stool as she gave me another one of those deceptively calming smiles.
“I’m telling you, I kept you here for your own good,” she cooed. “Prince Blamore would have killed you had I not brought you here. He’s quite cross with you. The snow king is gone, and you only have so much time left. How about I make you a fresh cup of tea and we’ll—”
“No!” I jumped to my feet, surprising us both when my legs held my weight by sheer willpower alone.
“I’m not cut out to die comfortably.” I pulled my cloak tight, then with the can in hand, I hobbled toward the door.
Wilma didn’t stop me, but I felt her eyes follow my fatal steps.
I pulled open the door, letting the cold rip through me as I turned back to face the sorceress who’d robbed me of my final days. “I’d rather burn with the snow.”