Page 69 of Wynter's Bite

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Bethany dreamed of Morningside again. She paced inside her cell, awaiting Doctor Keene’s visit. A most alarming emotion accompanied the dream: relief to be back in those stone walls and eager anticipation for the doctor’s soothing tonic. When he arrived with his spoon and bottle, she opened her mouth like a baby bird.

Instead of the usual bitter flavor, the tonic tasted sweeter than honey. Happiness welled within her and she fell back on her cot, soothed at last.

Then the sweetness turned into fire.

She awoke shivering, with that odd burning in the back of her throat again. Her heart thudded in her chest and a restless sensation crawled over her skin like a thousand insects. It was much like the feeling that had overcome her yesterday afternoon when driving the wagon, only a hundred times worse.

Justus opened his eyes and stared at her quizzically as his hand shifted from her waist to her forehead. “You’re sweating like you have a fever, but you do not smell as if you have one. How are you feeling?”

“Dreadful,” she admitted. “I cannot stop shaking, and I feel as if I am covered in flies. My back aches terribly as well.”

“Probably from driving that blasted cart,” Justus said with a deepening frown. “Perhaps you’re shaking from going too long between meals?”

“I’m not even hungry,” she said miserably. In truth, she was a bit queasy, but she didn’t want to worry Justus further. “But I’ll nibble on some bread when you hunt. Is it dark yet?”

“It feels like dusk is about an hour off. I heard the shopkeeper lock up and depart two hours before that, but you were still asleep.” Justus cupped her face and peered at her more closely. “Do you suppose the food you ate last was spoiled?”

Bethany shook her head. “I’ve eaten bad meat before. I’d be casting up my accounts if that were the case. I feel more restless than ill, to be honest. And my bones hurt and my throat burns.” She frowned. That wasn’t right. “I mean, it doesn’t feel hot, it’s a different sort of burn.”

“We’re leaving the wagon.” Justus said firmly. “I can carry you faster than that mule can.”

“But I could carry you safely in the trunk during the day,” she protested, blurting out the idea.

His brows drew together. “I think not. I do not care to be stuffed in that trunk again, for one thing. For another, you’ve clearly overexerted yourself driving the wagon.”

“I do not think it was the wagon. The soreness perhaps, but not the rest.” Bethany rubbed her arms, trying to calm that prickling sensation. “I’ve felt this way before. The day you had to sleep in the well.”

Justus’s eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you.” She rose from their makeshift bed and stretched. Her back popped in a satisfying manner, but her anxiety remained. “I’m probably just impatient to continue our journey.”

“Impatient to leave a book shop?” Justus gaped at her. “Something is definitely wrong.”

His words sank in with ominous truth. She was never eager to part from books. Her shoulders slumped as fear coiled in her belly. “I hope I haven’t caught the plague.”

“You honestly do not smell ill,” he said, though uncertainty wavered in his eyes. “But just in case...” He bit his index finger and held it to her lips. “Drink.”

Bethany obeyed, tasting his blood and feeling that electric jolt of his blood on her tongue. Whatever magic sang in his blood did seem to ease her pain and phantom panic slightly. Yet it still remained, boiling under the surface of her skin, like a monster waiting to tear her apart from the inside. She licked her lips and kissed the tip of his finger. “I’m going to go upstairs and see if there is something for us to read while we wait until dark.”

His broad grin soothed her soul. “There’s my Bethany. But if you feel faint or feverish, I want you to come back down at once.”

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