Page 60 of Heart of the Summer Queen

I pray that like that night, these chains will suddenly spring free. But the paralysis consumes my legs, spreading across all of me.

What if it reaches my heart and stops it?

All I can do is lie there, staring up at the dark stone ceiling. I can close my eyes and breathe but aside from that, I can’t move a single muscle. I’m trapped inside my own body.

I picture Elaric pacing the beside the lake, his unrest spurring his magic to spread. Unless I break free, the whole lake will soon share my fate.

After vanishing beneath the waves, Elaric won’t know what has happened to me. There will be only two possibilities in his mind—either that I successfully found the cave and swam inside, or was torn apart by the eels. Perhaps I should have called over to let him know before diving in. At least then he’d know where I am.

But even if he was aware of my location, I doubt he could reach me. His presence would render the water solid around him, just like in his bathtub. Maybe he could freeze the water into a tunnel, but that’s assuming he’ll even find the cave beneath all the ice.

Each moment blurs into the next as I lose grasp on the passage of time. Reality slips away, sensations muted against the panic screaming inside my skull.

I can’t tell if minutes have crawled by, or hours.

Did I fail to drink every drop? Or is this entire quest some trick orchestrated by Belinda? But why bother with such an elaborate ruse? While in her woods Elaric possessed no magic, and it would have been easy for her to defeat us.

Yet there’s no other explanation. The cure has proven useless.

This is it then. My final resting place.

Even terror and despair grow dull, my emotions numbing along with physical sensation. There’s only a timeless calm, as if I’ve already detached from the world around me.

And then, as the last shred of hope flickers out, my little toe twitches.

Suddenly, I can feel it, as well as the moist air surrounding it. That feeling extends to the rest of my foot, and then I can wiggle all my toes.

Slowly, sensation returns to my limbs, the poison’s effects retreating.

Gasping, I force myself upright. I hold out my hand, marveling at the ability to move my fingers, when only seconds ago such a feat was impossible.

I sit there, staring at the brambleweed ahead, its pointed leaves glinting. Though the poison has left my body, it takes longer to leave my mind. The feeling of being locked in your own body is not an easy thing to forget.

When my mind finishes processing what has happened, I push myself onto my feet. I’m not sure precisely how long the paralysis imprisoned me, but standing is strenuous, as if I’ve spent countless weeks lying ill in bed and am now walking again for the first time.

My steps are unsteady at first, but I manage to find the leaves I dropped. One is somewhat crumpled, but Belinda may not mind if she can still use it in her potions.

My dagger lies before the brambleweed, and I carefully retrieve it, keeping away from all the deadly thorns. While the antidote still flows in my veins, I don’t know whether it will neutralize another dose of the poison, and it isn’t something I’m keen to test.

I sheathe my blade and then consider the leaves in my hand. Aside from my dagger’s holster, I don’t have any way of storingthe leaves on my body. I can’t even tuck them into the top of my breeches, since I’m wearing nothing at all.

It seems my only option is to stuff the leaves into the empty antidote vial, but I’ll need to roll them up to fit them inside. And while I took great pain in drinking every drop of antidote, it’s possible traces remain inside the vial. The drops may react with the brambleweed leaves, rendering them useless. Then Belinda may decide I haven’t fulfilled my end of our deal and will send me on yet another quest to risk my life.

But there’s nothing else I can do, so I take the leaves and put them inside the vial as gently as I can, securing them in place with the stopper.

The next problem to consider is my wounded hand. Though the scratch has dried, it hasn’t scabbed over completely, and water may cause it to bleed again. If even a drop seeps into the lake, every Zaroy Eel will charge for me before I can swim out the cave.

I pace forward to the water and splash some onto the back of my injured hand, waiting to see if any blood trickles out.

None does, even when I splash it again, so I dare to hold it underwater. Though it stings considerably, no blood leaks out.

Entering the lake with an open wound isn’t wise, but I can’t sit and wait in this cave for it to heal. That could take several days, and by then, Elaric will have certainly frozen the lake. And the entire forest.

Swallowing down fear, I step into the pool, following the slope downward until I’m fully immersed.

Water laps over me. Pushing myself under the surface, I scan for the exit. When I find it, I squeeze my shoulders through the gap, minding the coarse sides, and swim through the narrow tunnel. I reach the other side without drawing any more blood.

I’m just about to return to the surface for air when I notice an eel several yards ahead.

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