Chapter 19 Thorns
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’s forehead. 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 to try 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.
Luci stilled, careful to take her next breath slowly.
She knew this was coming, but it was hard for her to imagine that this was a viable plan.
Magic wasn’t real. Yes, she’d experienced a vision in the room of mirrors, but the further it got away from there, the more she wondered how much she imagined.
Even if it were real, how could a flower be enough to save her friend?
Maybe it was an innate sense of distrust, but she refused to carry hope that magic and fairy tales would save them.
Better to put her faith in Noah and hard-earned knowledge.
“All right,” she said.
Silence stretched, and maybe there was something more she should have said, but she couldn’t find whatever it was.
“It’ll take me at least a week, possibly two, depending on conditions,” he said.
The pressure behind her eyes burned and built, forcing a dam to unleash. A sob broke from her, and she threw her hand over her mouth to try to catch it, but it was too late. It was a mournful and broken sound. Brielle didn’t have two weeks or even a week.
“I’m sorry, I promise I’ll go as fast as I can,” he said.
Her chest was cracked open, and everything she ever was lay spilling out over the bed and floor. Suddenly, the rest of her life opened before him, and it was a desolate landscape devoid of joy because if Brielle left her there, there would be none left.
“He loves her,” Brielle murmured.
“Hush,” Luci whispered, wiping at her tears. “It’ll be alright.”
“I’ll find Noah.” Prince Ira said.
Luci glanced up at him, finding all the color drained from his face. She could only imagine what he saw when he looked at her and Brielle. Was that pity in the softness around his eyes, or was it mourning what could have been?
“Please,” Luci whispered.
Please find Noah. Please hurry. Please find an impossible cure. Please save her.
He nodded and bowed his head.
At least Luci could be certain he understood.
At least there was that.
Noah came just a little while later, though there were dark circles under his eyes and his hair stretched this way and that.
She was grateful he was sacrificing sleep for Brielle, but the rate he was going was unsustainable.
Together, they forced Brielle to take his newest attempt, careful to make sure she didn’t cough it up.
When they were sure it was not going to come back up, Luci sat with her back up against the bedframe and ran her head over her eyes, trying to rub the burning from them.
“You should sleep,” Noah said.
She bit out a laugh. “You should sleep.”
A long patient sigh was his answer, and Luci instantly regretted snapping at him. It was a deep ache in her bones that threatened to disintegrate her.
Noah sighed, nodding his head slowly.
“We both should.” He cleared his throat and pocketed his hands. “Luci, I feel I need to be honest with you.”
“Don’t-” she pleaded, lower lip quivering.
He held her gaze for just a moment before fixing it on the floor before him. That was the moment that Luci knew her world was ending. It wasn’t just on fire anymore; it was ash.
“We’ve tried everything. All that’s left to do is hope for a miracle,” he said.
Luci clasped Brielle’s hand in hers, ignoring the burning of her skin because it only added to the authenticity of the damning words.
“You know there are no such things as miracles. If you can touch it, smell it, see it– that’s real. The rest are just stories,” she said.
He couldn’t even look at her. She wanted to scream at him that he was a coward for giving up. There were a thousand combinations they hadn’t tried. There was more left to do than just put all their hopes in a mythical flower.
She knew it was wrong. There was a reason just Prince Ira was going. Secrets made failure less sensational news. If people thought there was a chance magic could be returned, they would demand success. Secrets were safe. Safe wouldn’t keep Brielle breathing.
“Prince Ira thinks there is a magical flower that can heal her, left by the last fairy godmother. He’s going to find it tomorrow, but it will take too long, and it probably doesn’t exist,” she said.
Noah stilled, eyes jumping from the floor to her.
“What does it look like?” he asked.
A knock on the door.
That was quick. Maybe there was magic left in the castle because word of treason quickly made its way around.
Despite the fact that no one gave leave to enter, Lucien Vencia entered, a small book clutched in his hand.
He was dressed in simple pants and a loose navy shirt that dipped low onto his chest. His light blond hair mussed, and jawline taut.
He might have been beautiful if it weren’t for his obnoxious nature.
“I came to see how she was doing,” he said.
“She’s fine, you can go.” Luci snapped.
“No, stay,” Brielle murmured.
Hope, as a wingless beast soaring through the sky, shot through Luci. Those were just mad ramblings; those words held purpose.
Running her hand over Brielle’s cheeks, the sound that broke from her was half laugh and half sob. A tragic melody meant for stolen moments and false hopes, yet beneath her hand, Brielle’s skin was clammy rather than fire. Sweat dripped down her forehead, and she gave a violent shiver.
“The fever is breaking,” Noah said.
The fever was breaking. Whatever Noah gave her worked.
“Brielle, can you hear me?” Luci asked, choking on her sob.
One eye squinted open before fluttering closed.
“You are always so dramatic,” Brielle whispered, her voice weak.
They were the most beautiful words Luci ever heard in her life. She removed the towel from Brielle’s head and pressed a kiss to it.
“Thank you,” she whispered.