Page 71 of The King's Sword
“Shh,” Evander said. “I’ve got you. Everything is going to be okay. I promise.” He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. He kissed her forehead.
But she couldn’t focus on him because her skin felt like it was set on fire, as if her flesh were burning.
Sabine screamed.
“What’s wrong?” Evander asked, his voice filled with concern.
The fire spread from her neck, down to her shoulders, and to her stomach. She started thrashing, trying to put the fire out, only there was no fire. At least not one she could see. She had no idea what was happening as pain and terror set in.
Evander cursed. “The assassin’s dagger must have been tipped with poison.”
Poison. She was going to die a horrible, painful death.
Sabine couldn’t stop screaming as pain rippled through her, increasing in intensity.
Evander scooped her up, running from the room, carrying her in his arms. He began shouting orders, but Sabine didn’t pay attention to what he said. All she could think about and focus on was the excruciating pain. It felt like her skin was being seared off her body. She wanted to pull it away to stop the pain.
They entered a building she’d never been in before. Evander set her on a bed. She thrashed, wanting to put out the invisible fire that engulfed her body. Someone pinned her arms down while someone else tied her wrists to the bed. Then they did the same with her legs.
A piercing scream erupted through her. She was tied to the bed, burning, and she was going to die.
“She needs the antidote,” Evander shouted. “Now!”
“We need to figure out what poison is in her system,” someone responded.
“She only has minutes left,” he said, gripping his hair and sliding to the floor.
An elderly man leaned over Sabine. “Do you feel fire or ice?” he asked.
“Fire,” she ground out, panting, sweat dripping down her forehead, arms, and legs.
He nodded. “Vexilun. How long since she was poked?”
“Maybe ten minutes?” Evander said, still sitting on the floor. “We have enough time to save her, don’t we Barret?”
“We have roughly twenty minutes. It’ll be cutting it close.” He barked orders to someone else in the room before tilting her head back, inspecting her wound. “Make that ten. Ten minutes.”
People rushed in and out of the room bringing leaves, roots, and vials. Barret stood beside the bed grinding the various ingredients in a bowl.
Someone else laid cool, wet cloths on her forehead, arms, and legs.
“I have enough,” Barret announced. He scoped out a spoonful of what he’d made and placed it on her neck where the dagger had pierced her skin. It immediately doused the fire around her head and shoulders.
Another person rushed over with a cup. “It’s ready,” the woman said.
Barret lifted Sabine’s head, placing the cup at her lips. He poured the liquid into her mouth and she swallowed the contents as best she could, coughing slightly at the foul taste.
She could feel her heart beating frantically as the liquid slid down her throat and to her stomach. Then a calmness coated her skin as the fire faded away. Her breathing became steadier.
“How do you feel?” Barret asked.
“Better,” she said, her voice coming out hoarse.
“Vexilun is a nasty poison that makes you think your flesh is burning. The pain can be excruciating. After thirty minutes or so, your heart gives out and you die.” He reached forward, placing his palm on her chest. “Your heart is still beating too quickly.” He shouted something over his shoulder.
Another person approached with a different cup. Barret removed the bindings on Sabine’s wrists and ankles and then he helped her sit up. He handed her the cup, and she drank its contents.
“Now what?” she asked.
