Page 98 of Lore of the Wicked Wood
“I didn’t, Your Imperial Highness.” The guard’s back snapped straight and he stood at attention. “She was delivered.”
“What, like a package?” Caedian spat, fury radiating from him.
The guard ducked his head, shame coloring his cheeks. “Davorin of the Morvayne vampire clan dropped her off only a few moments ago. He said he found her in the Marzena and that I should bring her to His Highness immediately. He also apologized for not being able to bring her to you himself…” The guard nodded behind them toward the window. “The sun, you see.”
“Thank you,” Atlas mumbled, then moved quickly through the connecting doors that led to his bedchamber, with Veros and Caedian on his heels.
He carefully laid Everinne onto his bed and she slumped against the plush mattress, unmoving.
“Caedian, fetch a healer at once,” Atlas commanded, pulling a small dagger from the inside of his boot. “Whatever is in her system, it is more than just alcohol.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” Caedian bowed then bolted from the room, his retreating footfalls echoing in the stillness of the morning.
Veros leaned over from the other side of the bed, pressing the back of his hand to Everinne’s forehead, and then her cheek. “She’s feverish.”
“I know. Open the verandah doors.”
Veros did as he was instructed, flipping the latch and wrenching them open wide. A gust of frozen winter air flooded Atlas’s chambers. The fire in the hearth wavered and sputtered, and goosebumps pebbled all over Everinne’s flesh, but she did not stir.
Atlas looked at his friend, leveling him with a hard stare. “If you have any qualms about seeing your sister naked, look away now.”
He aimed the dagger at her bodice.
Veros lurched forward, grabbing his wrist. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to cut her clothing off of her, it will be much faster than dealing with all the laces on the back of her corset.” Atlas pulled his hand free, then slid the sharpened edge of the blade under the thick fabric and set to work. “If we don’t get her out of this damned bodice, the poison will fester.”
All the color leached from Veros’s face. “Poison?”
“She was drugged. I’ve seen it before.” Atlas bit the words out as the ripping of satin and snapping of the bone lining filled the space between them. “Now, either help me or don’t, the choice is yours.”
Veros helped.
He tugged on the satin ribbons, loosening them so Atlas could saw through the dense boning of Everinne’s corset. Veros’s movements were frantic as he yanked and tugged, tossing the scraps onto the floor to free his sister from the constraints of her costume. When Atlas tore the rest of the bodice from her, Veros averted his gaze, carefully unstrapping the heels she wore, and setting them aside. When Everinne was left in nothing but black stockings covered in tiny diamonds, Veros walked away completely, going to stand by the open verandah doors, his back to Atlas.
He slumped against the solid frame, his shoulders sagging in defeat.
A moment later, the door to Atlas’s bedchambers burst open and Caedian strode in with a healer right behind him. Caedian stumbled to a halt, his eyes widening in both horror and shock at the sight of Everinne sprawled on the bed, and he instantly turned back around, forcing the healer to maneuver around him.
“Thank the gods,” Atlas mumbled at the sight of Franseza.
She was one of the elders and had worked for the Korvny fae for well over a century. Her thinning raven hair was pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck and deep-set lines showcasing her age wrinkled around her mouth and the corners of her gold eyes. She smelled of dried herbs and lemon balm, and long beaded earrings drooped from her pointy ears. Franseza bustled around to the side of the bed, wiping her aged hands on the tan apron that was smeared with stains from her latest remedy.
“Franseza,” Atlas pleaded, his voice strained as his gaze skimmed the tiny threads of blackened veins littering Everinne’s body. “Can you help her?”
“Don’t worry, Your Imperial Highness.” Franseza cupped Everinne’s cheek, her thumb tracing her chin as she moved her head from side to side. “I can save the future princess.”
“But?” Veros prompted from the opposite wall, still refusing to face them. He stood with his arms stretched out to either side, his hands gripping the door frame, like he was trying to breathe in the whole of the night to keep from losing control.
“But it will not be pleasant.” Franseza rummaged through the leather pouch knotted around her waist, pulling out a cup, a bundle of herbs, as well as a mortar and pestle. “She’s ingested a dangerous amount of blood ash. I’m honestly surprised she’s not yet dead. Usually, blood ash is used as a means of sedation in small doses and is virtually untraceable. But when taken in extreme amounts, the toxin rots the blood. Whoever gave hersuch a copious amount either intended to knock her out cold or force her into an eternal slumber.”
Atlas’s hands curled into fists at his side. He knew exactly who was responsible. The minute he saw Jarek again, he would slit his throat. But right now, he had more important things to worry about, like making sure Everinne survived.
“What’s the treatment?” Caedian asked. He rubbed one hand along the back of his neck and had taken a keen interest in his boots.
“That’s the unpleasant part, I’m afraid.” Franseza slipped a small tool from one of her pockets. The end was crafted from rose quartz, swirling and bulbous, with another crystal fused to its base. It was slender and hollow, tapering off toward its sharp tip. “I’ll need to siphon the toxins from her blood.”
Atlas swallowed the lump of anxiety lodged in the back of her throat. “Is it safe?”
