Page 61 of The Throne Seeker
Her body came to attention at once. “What’s the matter? What’s happened?” she asked.
His grave eyes made her heart pound. “It’s Roman. I don’t have much time, but something’s wrong. He’s got a fever, and he keeps throwing up. He can scarcely breathe. The healers think the arrow must have been laced with some sort of poison.”
Her mouth parted in disbelief. Roman had been the epitome of health just a few hours ago—not even a scratch or a burn to indicate an infection, and even that wouldn’t have come on that fast.
“Can anything be done?” she asked.
“The healers are doing everything they can, but I’m afraid none of them are familiar with the poison. We need someone well-versed in herbology…” He swallowed, giving her a desperate look.
She knew what he was asking. “I don’t know if I’ll be better help than the healers, but I’ll see what I can do.”
“Please be careful,” her mother warned, surprising her by not forcing her to stay.
“She’ll return safe,” Tristan promised.
“Stay with my mother,” Rose said to Zareb. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Roman’s large room was crowded and cramped. Three healers stood clustered by his canopy bed, alongside his parents and Harriet. To her surprise, Beth was there, too, sitting beside Roman, holding his hand. The queen looked beside herself, with tears flowing down her face. Roman’s deep groans filled the room above the voices.
Rose went straight to Roman. His body was a sweaty mess.
“He’s gotten worse just in the time I went to get you,” Tristan whispered bitterly.
The others finally looked up, surprise plastered on their faces as Tristan and Rose edged up next to the bed.
“What are you doing here?” the queen asked sharply.
Rose pulled her gaze away from Roman to the queen, pained by the underlying hostility in her voice.
“I asked her to come,” Tristan retorted with a voice as strong as iron. “And you will let her help—that is, unless you want Roman’s death on your conscience.”
The queen’s piercing eyes didn’t falter but she said nothing in rebuttal, knowing she couldn’t refuse help.
Roman’s weakened gaze connected with hers. She could have sworn his eyes softened the moment he saw her, almost making her believe he was relieved she was there. That was before he gasped for air, rolling over onto his side to empty the contents of his stomach into a nearby bucket. To her credit, Beth quickly positioned herself beside him, holding the bucket steady.
“Do you have the arrow?” she asked Tristan.
The healer with a snooty expression came forward, holding the arrow wrapped in white cloth. “It’s obviously a nightshade poison,” the healer snipped.
Rose took it, examining the arrowhead, careful not to touch it with her bare hands.
“I don’t know why she’s here, Your Majesty. We are more than capable?—”
Tristan cut the healer off. “You and the other healers can step outside for the time being. I’ll summon you back when you are needed.”
“Tristan, they’re trying to help,” the queen scolded.
The king agreed with Tristan, interrupting their spat. “Leave us,” he ordered.
The healer bowed, her wounded pride accompanying her as she strode out with the other two healers.
Rose’s attention went back to the arrowhead, filthy and covered in dark soot. At first glance, it did resemble nightshade. However, upon deeper inspection, there were traces of a blood-red color…
No.
Oh, please, gods, no.
She hurried to the candles beside Roman’s bed, holding the arrow toward the light. As she suspected, the red streaks shimmered in the flicker of the flames. This wasn’t nightshade.
