Page 66 of The Throne Seeker
Ingrid gave a gentle smile in farewell. “I hope you do; good luck, fair one.”
CHAPTER 29
With the phoenix’s tears in hand, Rose and Tristan rushed back to Roman’s room, their figures sure to be a blur in the vacant corridors as their hurried footsteps echoed off the cold stone floor.
When they entered the room, there was a stillness—a clear indication that Roman’s condition had worsened. The king and queen remained by his bedside, his mother’s eyes swollen and red. Beth and Harriet were still present, their faces reflecting the queen’s distress.
Roman lay drenched in sweat, his body unnervingly still. A weak wheeze accompanied each breath, eyelids squeezed shut, letting her know even though he was exhausted he was in too much pain to sleep.
“You’re back already? Did you find them? Was it too late?” the king asked, preparing for the worst.
“We got it,” Tristan answered, holding up the vial. “I’ll explain everything later, but we need to give him this. Now.”
The queen, Harriet, and Beth all let out a sob of relief.
Tristan made his way over to Roman. “Move,” he barked at the lot of them. He handed Rose the vial.
With precision, she added the drops to a glass of water on the table beside the bed as Tristan and the king propped Roman’s large body upright.
“Roman, can you hear me?” She searched his dull amber eyes for his focus. “You need to take this. It’s important you drink all of it, so I need you to try to keep this down, okay?”
She could barely make out the slight nod of his head as she cradled his jaw in her hand, tilting his face upward. His groggy eyes fluttered open, revealing a rare glimpse of vulnerability she had seldom seen. She brought the cup to his cracked lips, gradually tilting it. With each gulp, his chest heaved as his hands clenched the sheets, but he swallowed every last drop.
The moment she withdrew the cup, Roman collapsed backward. Tristan and the king caught him and lowered him back onto the bed as he struggled to regain his breath.
“There, that should make you feel all better,” Beth comforted as she returned to the bedside, almost as if she hoped her words could turn into reality.
Something in Rose’s gut twisted at the sight.
“How long before we know it worked?” Harriet asked, speaking up for the first time, her voice weak and fragile.
“I don’t know,” Tristan confessed, looking disheartened that Roman’s suffering hadn’t immediately ceased.
“Give him time,” Rose advised. “Dragonshade isn’t something most live through.” She hadn’t grasped the gravity of her words until they’d escaped her lips, her gaze slipping from their horrified eyes.
“What do we do now?” Beth asked, holding Roman’s hand.
“Let him rest,” Rose instructed. “And let the healers back in. Keep him comfortable until he pulls through.”
“Thank you, Rose.” The queen stepped in front of her, blocking her from Roman. “We’ll take it from here.”
She was so shocked that she nearly convinced herself she had imagined it. Tristan fumed, outraged at his mother’s impertinence, while Harriet mirrored his expression. Beth’s, however, was quite the opposite—a confident sliver of smugness creeping in.
Tristan readied himself for a fight. “Don’t you realize what Rose has just done?—”
Rose grabbed his arm to silence him. “Of course,” she interjected over Tristan. “I’ll get out of your way.” Her tone was gentle, skillfully concealing her pain. She pulled Tristan toward the door, leaning closer as she whispered, “Let me know when he’s okay.”
He shook his head, still livid at his mother’s behavior. “Stay. You have every right to be here—I don’t trust the other healers as much as I do you.”
She offered him the warmest smile she could muster. “He’ll be fine.” She wouldn’t let herself think otherwise.
She let go of his arm and moved to leave, but the king stopped her in her tracks. His sparkling eyes were fixed on her, exuding deep gratitude.
“Rose, my dear, beautiful, clever girl.” He cupped her face with his large hands. “Once again, I’m in your debt.” He pulled her in for a tight hug. “I don’t know how I can ever thank you.”
His embrace was so powerful, she could almost feel the love and gratitude pouring into her. Once she collected herself, she hugged him in return. “Of course,” she softly replied.
She could have cut the tension in the air with a dull knife, without even having to look to know that the queen and Beth were throwing daggers her way at the public display of affection.
