Page 97 of Heart of Snow
“Certainly,” Belinda interrupted. “I’ll see that she writes him today and deliver the letter myself.”
“Yes, well, in the meanwhile, you must take great caution with her meals. And with your own. It’s possible you and your maids could be inadvertently poisoned.”
Belinda’s eyes widened.
“Your stepdaughter should be in bed. Have you anyone to help take her back to your chambers?”
She nodded, signaling the maids waiting in the hall, and the two of them worked me to sitting. My stomach lurched, and Vesalius barely had time to find the bowl before I vomited again.
“You should take this with you.” Vesalius put the bowl in Belinda’s hands, and she looked as if she might expel her breakfast too.
The women pulled my arms over their shoulders and managed to get me to the door, but I called over my shoulder to the physician, “I expect to see you again. You must promise to visit me in my chambers.”
He looked down at his shoes, then back at me with a solemn face. “I promise.”
Chapter 46
Margaretha
Belinda’s chambers were lit withthe mild light of twilight, that soft hue that signifies neither night nor day. I had no notion what time it was, what day it was.
My throat burned with thirst. When I moaned for drink, someone propped me up to set a cup at my cracked lips, but swallowing the wine further pained my bruised, acid-raw throat. I had nothing left to vomit but heaved just the same, my throat swelling with the now-familiar strain of repeated gagging. How much more suffering could I endure before the kaiser relented his persecution? Surely he knew by now that I’d abandoned any designs on his son.
“Margaretha, the physician is here to meet you.” Belinda helped me lie back onto my pillows, then sat at the foot of my bed.
Vesalius gave me a quick once-over. “Have you heard anything from the prince?”
“Nothing,” I croaked.
He lowered his head and met Belinda at the foot of the bed, leaning against the post as he whispered, “She looks much worse. It’s clear she’s still being poisoned.”
Belinda nodded, swiping a hand over her cheek. She was crying again. She’d done a lot of that since I’d taken to my bed.
“I only wonder why the prince has made no answer to her letter.” Vesalius started snapping, and Belinda stood up suddenly.
“Excuse me,” she muttered, leaving the room in such a hurry that her concerned maid followed her out.
Vesalius eyed Ilsa stitching in the corner, then pulled a chair close to my bedside.
“I am on my way now to visit your brother,” he whispered. “Can you see out the window from where you sit?”
I raised a brow, pushing myself onto my elbow to look outside. A light snow dusted the tops of the trees.
“They’ll put him in a crypt, then.” I fell back on the bed.
“Yes,” he said excitedly. “I’ll check on him every two hours, monitor his progress, cover him with blankets. I’m feeling optimistic today.” He retrieved a small flask from his jerkin, showing it to me. “My most recent trial with the rats has helped me fine-tune the dosing.”
I caught Ilsa watching us, but she dropped her eyes back to her stitching.
“They survived?” I whispered.
“No, not fully, but I was able to predict their revival with a fair amount of accuracy.”
The door suddenly banged open as four armed Spanish guards marched in, coming toward the bed.
They were arresting me? Now?
Stopping just short of me, they caught hold of Vesalius’s arms and wrenched him upward, sending his flask sliding across the floor. He stammered out protests, thrashing against the soldiers until one jammed the end of an arquebus into Vesalius’s gut, and he crumpled to his knees with a groan.
