Chapter 74 Irena
IRENA
“It’s me—the Princess,” I assure the guards again, as I come upon them at last. They’re searching the lands at the back of the castle and they seem quite confused to see me coming through the brush and trees.
“Princess?” one asks. He has a familiar square jaw and pale, gray-blue eyes. It’s Sir Horace—the Captain of the King’s own guard. He serves my mother for as long as she lives and then he and his battalion of specially trained soldiers will serve my brother when he ascends the throne.
But that’s going to be years and years from now, I tell myself firmly. For I’m going to cure my mother.
As long as she’s still alive.
The thought sends a knife of jagged fear straight through me. What if she died while I was away? Goddess, let her be all right!
“Princess, what are you doing here? We thought you were kidnapped by the beast!” he says, looking at me suspiciously. “How did you get back? What were you doing while you were gone?”
“I undertook a quest,” I say lightly, not answering his other questions. “And now, I must see my mother. Take me to her at once!”
I put every bit of authority that my Royal rank gives me in my voice.
I can tell the Captain of the Guard wants to interrogate me, but I don’t intend to let him detain me.
The small bottle filled with the Healing Draught is hidden in the pocket of my skirts, still warm with healing magic against my leg.
The Sorceress directed me to give it to my mother as soon as I got back and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
Sir Horace is frowning at me from under his metal helm. Clearly he doesn’t like this. A man like Horace doesn’t like anything he can’t explain.
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.
“Take more,” I say urgently. “You need to drink it all.”
Slowly, sip-by-sip, she takes every last drop. And as the golden liquid goes down her throat, I can see the health returning to her face and figure.
The lines on her face fade and her body and face seem to fill out.
Color returns to her cheeks and her eyes look brighter.
Even her hair changes—it was so thin I could see her scalp when I first came into the room and it had turned completely white.
Now it’s getting thicker as I watch and it changes slowly from white…
to gray…to a warm, golden-brown, the same as my own.
“Oh, Irena…what was in that?” she asks and her voice almost sounds normal. She still looks tired, but it’s clear she’s on the mend.
“Magic,” I say, smiling at her. “Healing magic.”
“Magic,” she whispers drowsily, and her eyelids flutter closed. “My dear, I’m so glad you’re home but I am so sleepy,” she says and yawns.
“That’s all right, Mama—you rest now,” I say, stroking her cheek.
My heart is so full I have to blink back tears of happiness. I can tell that she’s slipping into a real, natural sleep—not the stillness of impending doom.
The shadow of Death has passed…she will recover. I know it—I feel it in my bones.
Gently, I lay her head back down on the pillow and smooth back her hair.
“You sleep, Mama,” I murmur. “I’ll be right here waiting until you’re well—you’ll be back on the throne, ruling our kingdom before you know it.”
But just at that moment, the door to her bedroom bursts open and I see my brother standing there. Right behind him is the Head Healer.
Both men are staring at me in utter surprise, and they don’t look pleased to see me.
Not at all.