Page 99 of Heart of Snow
And then like a miracle, I saw it: Vesalius’s flask. He’d dropped it when the soldiers took him, and now it lay tucked beneath an empty chair. But it was almost across the room, and I barely had strength to lean up onto my elbow.
Even if I drank it, how would I revive with Vesalius imprisoned? At least the snow guaranteed a crypt burial, but I shivered at the thought of waking to a room of half-rotting corpses. If I awoke at all.
I closed my eyes tight, then pushed myself out of bed, landing with a thump on the floor and retching all over the rug.
The door cracked open, spilling light over me.
“Lady Margaretha?” It was Ilsa’s voice. “My lady! What happened?” She rushed in the room, hooking her arms under mine to lift me.
“No.” I weakly fought back. “I need it.”
She stopped straining. “Need what?”
I pointed across the room at the flask. “Give it me to drink.”
“Are you mad? I heard enough from that physician to know you won’t survive it.”
“My body is stupid, but my mind and reason are healthy. You must trust me.”
Ilsa gently lowered me to the floor and retrieved the flask, popping it open and setting it in my hand.
I studied it as I instructed her. “This will make me as though dead. Once I am buried, send Friedrich to check every fewhours to see if I’ve revived. Say nothing of this to Countess von Waldeck.”
Ilsa’s eyes dropped to her hands. “Friedrich is gone, my lady. He left days ago.”
“What?” How had I not heard of this before?
“I meant to tell you. I just...” She peeked up at me, her cheeks coloring in the dim light.
Ah. The maid was jealous of me, just as I’d been jealous of her.
I considered who else I might call on, who else I could trust to aid me, but my list of supporters was small and dwindling by the minute. Eyeing Ilsa, I realized this jealous woman was my last hope of survival. She had withheld the truth about Friedrich’s departure before, but if she’d truly wished me harm, she could have remained silent still. It seemed I would have to trust her. Giving her hand a squeeze, I said, “Then you come find me.”
I was lifting the flask to my lips when she put a hand over the opening. “But we’re leavin’. As soon as you’re... gone. Lady Belinda said the kaiser just agreed to free Count Samuel, and she’s eager to get him back home.” Her hand pushed the flask toward my lap. “She sent me to her chambers to pack our things, thinkin’ you won’t last the night.”
“She would know very well, since she’s the one who is poisoning me,” I panted.
Ilsa furrowed her brows. “She warned me not to trust you. She said your thoughts had turned deranged.”
Of course she did. “She murdered me to gain favor with the kaiser. He promised her money and lands.”
Another spasm in my gut had me doubling over. “Try to find a way to stay, Ilsa. More likely than not I’ll die, but I fear being trapped alive in a crypt.” My long-ago nightmare of being buried alive in the mines revived, as did the panic, returning with a vengeance.
“I’ll find a way. I promise.” Her looks were resolute, and I tried to match them, despite my inner terror.
Tipping the flask back, I let the toxin pour down my throat until I’d swallowed almost all of it. I had to fight to keep it from coming back up, but slowly, a tingling warmth spread through my body. One by one, my legs and arms disappeared inside the numbness creeping toward my chest. My lungs became heavy. Every breath was effort, and every effort gave me less and less air, turning my thoughts murky. My mind spun and floated in a way I couldn’t get hold of to pull it down to reality. Was this sleep or dying? Would I dream? If I did, I wanted to dream of Friedrich.
I sucked in a strained breath and held it safe in my lungs, not knowing if I’d be able to draw another. I kept the swirling thoughts of Friedrich safe too, harboring my memories of him for as long as I could before I slipped into nothingness.
Chapter 47
Friedrich
The hares hidden inside mycloak were so cold they were almost stiff as I knocked on the rough wood door of the miners’ cottage. An eerie quiet hovered around the place. There was no laughter, no friendly argument, no sound at all coming from the other side of the door.
I knocked again until the door squealed on its hinges, and Emil stood there, looking solemn.
“Friedrich.” His sad face brightened a little. I was surprised by how much he’d aged in the few short months since I’d left.
