Page 144 of Beast and Remedy
But my heart beats erratically the more he reveals, and my stomach churns and coils, wanting to empty itself of my breakfast.
“Mutated?” I gape.
There wasn’t a way that could be possible. Could it?
Beau crosses his arms, his silence enough to worry me.
I apply pressure to my abdomen, settling the unease as I sit up, and try to process the grave news. “H-How did you discover this?”
“Our people were already reporting illnesses when your kingdom’s correspondence reached us,” Luther says. “And shortly after, a group of soldiers found a pack of wolves right along the Belmur border when they were on patrol, and they acted, planting traps to bring them back for our observation. We didn’t know any of them were infected until a week into monitoring them in the dungeon. That’s when we noted similarities and differences in some infected foxes, lynxes, and humans we were already observing.”
Luther steps forward, his hands shaking as he offers a few books to Beau. “Since then, we’ve recorded the timeline of infection, noting how it differs from animal to human and which symptoms are worse or vary. Animals can pass it to anyone they come in contact with, and we are gathering conflicting information that humans might have this capability as well. This was a huge indicator that there might be a different strain affecting the two species.”
“Were you treating those infected? Or just observing them?” Beau asks.
The old man dips his chin with resignation. “We did both. We studied those without treatment and with, administering medicine for symptoms as they came. And while it did extend their life, the symptoms still worsened as if the illness itself sought to combat what we gave.” He withdraws a handkerchiefand dabs the sweat accumulating along his brow. “And when an animal or human is near their time… They lose their minds.”
Bile runs up my throat, and I breathe through my nostrils to remove the images of death surfacing in my mind.
“How do you know? When they are at their end?” I ask, too impatient to read it in their books.
Luther swallows. “When it is time, they act in a stark contrast to themselves. Yes, their mouths might foam, and the fever will persist. But with the new strains, they hallucinate, growing confused to the point where many can’t discern friend from foe. Behaviors grow more erratic, angrier, and more lethal. Animals and humans turned on one another, leaving us to keep them separate to avoid them from killing each other.”
Goose bumps prickle up my spine, spasms of pain flickering against my skull at the distinct memory of Marian knocking me off my horse.
No.
I rub my chest, trying to soothe the ache pressing against my ribs. But fear extends its claws, digging into my lungs, piercing my heart and evolving the ache into a bleeding, oozing wound.
I am running out of time to save her.
Luther’s wrinkles deepen with his low, shaky response. “I know it is difficult to receive this information. But the knowledge you’ve shared about the ingredients needed for a cure”—his brown eyes fill with curiosity—“and the ratios for the lavender tea you’ve tried leave me hopeful we can further improve life expectancies for those infected and increase our chances of finding a remedy.”
Beau sets the books from Luther on the bedside table. “Thank you for your time. We truly appreciate your assistance with everything and are grateful to leave here with your insight.”
The older man peers between the door and me. “I cannot begin to imagine what you must be going through.” Silently, heapproaches and pats the bed. “But I believe with our research, our efforts, and Yeva’s gift bestowed to King Beau, we will turn the tide for everyone, including her.”
I bite my lip to mask the quiver I can’t control and incline my head in gratitude as he smiles before leaving me to dwell on his words of encouragement. My attention remains on the exit as I wring my hands through the sheets, needing to ground myself.
I am grateful for the knowledge, but it’s not the only reason we came here.
Fingers grip my chin, guiding me toward amused honey irises.
“I know what you’re doing,” Beau says.
I scowl, and my barely containable anger seeps out. “Oh? And what am I doing?”
“You’re overthinking.”
I roll my eyes, hating how obvious my tells are. Veering away from his touch, I hug myself and glance toward the window, despising how stuffy it feels.
I’m not doing enough, and the longer I’m here, the further I am from finding a cure.
“We need to confront the queen about her ability at dinner tonight,” I say.
Beau releases a long sigh. “It’s not going to be easy.”
I meet his gaze.
