Page 97 of Historical Hotties
It was strange how he could feel her everywhere.
He wasn’t feeling so drunk by the time they reached Doncaster’s lands. A brisk ride for several hours had the desired effect of sobering him up. Before he’d left the tavern, however, he had spent quality time in a rain barrel in the stable yard because it was full of cold, fresh water and, at that point, he was desperate to sober up. Therefore, he had dunked his entire body into it and the brisk temperature had the desired effect. Mostly, anyway. He was a shivering drunk now, but at least not as drunk as he had been.
There was more to come.
In the preparations for leaving, Rhori had managed to obtain a pitcher of boiled cider for Cassius, which he drank until there was nothing left. He also ate more bread and meat. He did all of the things that a man is supposed to do to sober up because he desperately wanted his wits about him.
He needed them.
Once the ride to Doncaster began, as his senses returned, so did his focus and sense of dread. He tried hard not to think onwhythey were going there, but he kept hearing Darian’s words over and over in his mind–
Dacia may be dying…
Dacia may be dying…
Those words were like tiny daggers tearing at him, poking holes at his composure, trying furiously to rattle him. He fought against those words more desperately then he had ever fought anything in his life. He tried to focus on the good news, the news that Amata had confessed her sins to the priests and to the villagers. He tried to focus on the fact that Dacia was no longer a target of their scorn and fear. He tried to focus on all thosethings, because if he thought on what he would find once he reached Edenthorpe, he was afraid he might crumble.
He had to believe it wasn’t as bad as Darian said.
It was the only thing that kept him going.
Drawing closer to Doncaster, the land around them was beginning to level out and they could see the village straight ahead. The big, white walls of the city reflected the late afternoon sun, and soon they would be closing the gates for the night.
The party made it in time, rushing through the northern gate, charging through the town that was rebuilding admirably since the mercenary raid. But Cassius didn’t pay any attention. He didn’t even pass a glance at the goldsmith’s stall where he and Dacia had selected their wedding rings. They were probably still there, waiting for them.
But they didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered without Dacia.
Emerging from the gate that faced Edenthorpe Castle, Cassius suddenly felt a surge of anxiety. Gone were his attempts to keep his composure. Dacia was within those walls, and he couldn’t get to her fast enough. He spurred Old Man forward, charging through the gatehouse before the gates were even fully open, dismounting his horse so swiftly that he stumbled. Soldiers were there, and stable servants, and they took his sweating, exhausted horse away as Cassius literally ran all the way to the keep.
Cassius was blind to anything else.
He was blind to his surroundings, to people or animals or buildings. The only building for him was directly in front of him and he took the steps into the keep two at a time. He hit the entry door running, only to be blocked by the duke, who was waiting for him.
Startled by the man’s abrupt appearance, Cassius came to a halt because he had to, tearing the helm from his dark, sweaty head.
“I am here,” he said breathlessly. “Where is she?Howis she?”
The duke put up his hands to ease the panicked knight. “Cassius, calm yourself,” he said steadily. “Thank God you have come, but please… calm yourself. Let me tell you what you need to know before you go to her.”
“Is she still alive?”
“She is.”
Cassius stared at him a moment, the words confirming that Dacia had not passed away sinking into his weary, still slightly drunk mind.
And then, he burst into tears.
He hadn’t realized how much he’d been holding in, terror and fear that he’d lost her for good. A big, gloved hand slapped over his mouth to prevent the sobs from emerging, but he closed his eyes tightly and the tears spilled over. The duke, seeing how distraught he was, put his hands on the man to ease him.
“Cassius,” he said with surprising gentleness. “Be at ease, lad. She is still alive, though she has not yet awakened. I sent for the best physic in Sheffield and the man is with her now. His name is Whittington and he is the personal physic to the Earl of Sheffield. She has the best of care, I promise you.”
Cassius was trying desperately to compose himself. “I do not understand,” he said hoarsely. “Darian said she was accidentally given poison. How could that even happen?”
Doncaster sighed faintly, with great regret. “Because her maid mixed up the phials,” he said. “It was an accident. Whittington has determined that what she was given was not exactly a poison, but something used for swelling and dropsy. If the person is given too much of it, it will affect the heart and thebreathing. That is what has happened to Dacia– she was given too much of it and the physic hopes that she will simply wake up without any effects, but it will take time.”
Cassius was wiping at his face, gaining control of his composure now that he’d suffered his outburst. “But what if she does not wake up at all?”
