Page 79 of The Shadow Heir

“Save the rest,” he said.

I crammed the stopper back in, but he didn’t let go of my hand.

His eyes locked on mine. “I’m going to need one more dose,” he muttered, his voice rough. “You’re going to have to stay.”

I shook my head. I didn’t like where this was going.

“Zara. I need you. The pain,” he inhaled sharply, wincing. “The pain has never been this intense before.”

“What’s happening to you?”

“If the lines make it to my heart,” he ground out between gritted teeth, “it’ll alert my father, and he’ll return—and he’ll kill us both for what I just did. But I can’t take too much antidote at once, or that too will kill me. Wait an hour and then give me more.”

His eyes fluttered shut, and his grip on my hand relaxed.

For a moment, I stared down at him, hoping he’d rouse and say something else—anything else. My heart trembled in my chest at his words.

I gently pulled my hand from his and set the vial beside the full one on the table. For several long seconds, I stood there, hands crammed in my messy hair, staring down at the sleeping fae prince, surprised at how badly I didn’t want him to die.

Then, I sprang into action and reached for his arm, pushing his sleeve up to examine where the black lines ended. I pushed the sleeve as far as it would go, but the lines disappeared beneath his shirt. His skin was boiling hot.

One hour. I only had to wait one hour before giving him another dose.

I wasn’t certain how I could tell when an hour had passed, so I stuck my head back out the balcony door. I marked the first colored hues of dawn and the place where the light grew stronger behind the mountain’s jagged peak. I didn’t want to administer the antidote too soon or he might die, and it would be all my fault.

But what if I waited too long and the magic—the curse—called his father home? I didn’t feel equipped to do this.

Cas had asked me to stay, so I would. He’d waited with me in the sunshine, despite how uncomfortable it must have made him. I cringed at the thought that I might have drooled on him. But hitting my forehead with my palm wasn’t going to change what had taken place in that grassy field. I would stay for one hour.

I paced the room, my arms crossed over my chest and my eyes constantly flicking to Cas’s form as he quietly breathed. But after four revolutions around the room, a new sound sent a wave of panic down my spine. His body began to twitch on the bed. First his legs moved, and then his arms and chest joined in. Awful gagging sounds issued from his mouth, and I ran toward him. I tried to turn his body onto its side so he wouldn’t choke on his saliva, but his jerking movements flopped him back down again. I ran back out to the balcony, but the light had barely changed. It had only been maybe a quarter of an hour.

When I darted back inside, the twitching had stopped. “Cas.” I touched his shoulder. “Cas?” I shook him. There was no response. His face had gone slack, his mouth partly open.

Panicked, I grabbed the collar of his shirt and ripped at the first button. I had to know if the black lines were already at his heart. I tore the buttons open and pulled the shirt aside. No black lines touched his chest, so I pulled farther and farther until the fabric of his shirt was all the way off one of his shoulders. There. I could see the black lines. They were at the top of hisbicep reaching into the curve of his shoulder, not yet at his heart, but they didn’t have far to go.

Relieved, I hung my head and focused on his steady breaths. My hand still rested on his bare chest, and for the briefest moment, I didn’t remove it.

What was happening to me?

Memories of the night I’d shot him in my garden played through my head, followed closely by the memory of how well he’d danced.

The fae I’d met in the garden had been nothing but a handsome trickster to me. But now…

The fever had soaked his hairline with sweat. I stroked some of the hair out of his face before moving to pace the room once more. After a few minutes, another fit took him, this time only lasting a few seconds.

The shaking stopped by the time I reached him. I inhaled deeply, trying to calm my own heartbeat.

To feel useful, I whirled around and marched back out to the balcony, marking where the sunlight limned the mountain. I didn’t think it had been more than half an hour.

I paced, trying to count the minutes and memorizing every detail of his personal quarters. The rug was mostly purple with silver patterns, not unlike those I’d seen in Avencia, though the pattern was more floral and less geometric than the current style at home. His furniture was an odd style as well, carved all over with swirling lines painted black. Other than books and clothes tossed here and there, and a chair draped with a discarded pair of pants—the sight making me blush—there wasn’t much to look at. A single chandelier hung overhead, filling the room with the same cool magical light that lit all the rooms in this palace.

After perhaps another ten minutes, I was going mad with counting. He hadn’t seized again, and I reckoned that was a good thing. I strode back over to him and pulled his collar aside oncemore to check where the black lines were. They were no longer at the top of his shoulder. They disappeared somewhere in the sleeve that was still on his arm. Carefully, I lifted his hand and slid the sleeve off of his left arm.

The lines now ended right above his elbow. I exhaled with relief; the curse was receding. My hands traced gently down his arm, grateful he wasn’t awake to see me do this. After placing his arm carefully by his side, I walked back out to the balcony to check the progress of the sun and shadows. I doubted it had been an hour yet, so I counted for what I assumed was another ten minutes then took another ten laps around his room, just in case I’d counted too fast. At that point, the waiting was killing me. It had been roughly an hour.

I grabbed the vial and slid my hand under the back of his head. “Cas, can you wake up?” At first there was no response. I shook him gently and tapped the cold vial against his chest. “Cas. You need a little bit more of this.”

A small groan issued from his parted lips, but his eyes didn’t open. I pressed the vial to his mouth and tilted until all the contents were in his mouth. The liquid started to spill out the sides of his lips, and I yelped. I clenched my hand over his mouth trying to shut the antidote in. By then his eyes pried open, and the point in his throat bobbed as he finally swallowed.

---