Page 96 of Heart of Snow
“Then I’ll write. To Felipe or his father. Y-you could deliver it.” I tried to sit in anticipation of penning the letter, but the pain in my stomach stabbed with a sudden intensity, and I couldn’t stop myself from crying out.
“Perhapsyoucould write it,” I puffed. My hands trembled too much for writing anyway.
“Oh, yes. Certainly. First, I’ll just...” Vesalius took the bowl to the window for dumping. Rinsing it out and returning it to me, he then rummaged through drawers and lifted up dead creatures in search of paper and quill. His space was every bit as untidy as it had been the last time I was here, with books piled high over tables, bowls scattered beside cups of concoctions, and specimens pulled apart and pinned to expose their innards. There was even another row of rats lying lifeless on the table.
“You’re experimenting again,” I said.
Vesalius stopped searching and cocked his head, then followed my gaze to the rats. “Yes, I managed to get my hands on more of those fish from the New World. I was careful dosing thetoxin, but even still, it was too strong. I don’t think any of them survived.”
“Perhaps they’re too small. You need a human subject to test it on.”
“I find myself short on volunteers.” He flicked his hand toward the rats. “I doubt this lot would inspire much confidence.”
“True. It’d require some d-desperate individuals with nothing to lose.” Pain stabbed again at my stomach, and I curled my knees to my chest again, hugging them tight. Even as miserable as I was, it was a greater risk than I’d venture. Only those already slated for death might be brave enough to try.
Slated for death.
Samuel.
“True,” I repeated, uncurling my legs as the idea pulsed excitement through my weakened body. “Vesalius, delay for a spell writing my refusal and instead pen a plea to visit my brother in the dungeons.”
“But you are too weak—”
“Not I. You. Take him a draft of your fish toxin and see if he has the courage to try it.”
Vesalius leaned his hands against the table behind him. “For his pain?”
“For his life. You spoke of the Indians who seemed to come back from the dead. And there was your rat that revived for a time. Couldn’t you give Samuel a potion that put his body in a stupor long enough to appear dead, then when he is removed from the dungeons, he’ll revive?”
The physician rubbed his hand over his beard, contemplating. When he began to pace and snap, I knew he was considering it with real seriousness, piecing out the specifics of dosing and monitoring and recording.
“What about a funeral?” he asked. “He’ll have to be buried.”
“We could ask to transport his body back to Wildungen.”
He shook his head. “It’s not cold enough yet. You’ll arouse suspicion.”
“But it is cold enough that he won’t be buried in the ground. Maybe a crypt?” I sagged back onto the table, the conversation quickly fatiguing me. “I’ll suggest it to my stepmother. She is here in Brussels and could see to all funeral arrangements. Then in a day or two, we can sneak back to his burial place and help him when he recovers.”
“Ifhe recovers,” Vesalius said. “This is a very dangerous plan. You understand your brother will almost certainly die.”
“If we do nothing, his fate is the same.”
We both sat in silence until the physician raised his eyes. “I’ll think on it more, but you must tell no one. If my involvement is exposed, it’ll be my position or my life.”
I opened my mouth to respond when the scrape of a chair beside the door made us both turn to see Belinda, resetting the chair in its place with an embarrassed smile. “My apologies for the disturbance. Prince Felipe’s attendants told us Lady Margaretha was sick.”
Vesalius nodded toward me, and Belinda came to the table, putting a hand to my forehead. “I knew you weren’t well enough for riding. You should have listened.” She twisted back to Vesalius. “I thank you for your care.”
“Comtess, you should know your stepdaughter is seriously ill.” He held his hands behind his back and rolled up onto the balls of his feet. “In truth, I believe she’s been poisoned.”
“Poisoned!” Belinda’s jaw dropped. “Who would do such a thing?”
“I couldn’t say with any certainty.” Vesalius cleared his throat and leaned toward Belinda to whisper, “Her marriage plans with the prince could well be the root of it.”
“Then she’ll relinquish them. We’ll leave now and get her free of this place.”
Vesalius started snapping. “Right now she’s too ill to travel. She plans to write the prince of her altered intentions—”
