Page 17 of Golden Queen
The doctor shook his head in a way that left no doubt that the man would die.
"We can tie him down," I began.
The doctor cut me off again. "I have to assume you don't know very much about the fae if you think we have ropes, or even chains, that could hold him."
I looked at him beseechingly, and he shook his head again. I wanted to reach out and shake itforhim as anger at his refusal to help surged through me.
"I'm sorry, my dear. You simply do not know what you’re asking of me."
"Well what should I do?" I demanded.
"Find his compatriots, perhaps. Fae do not generally travel into Windemere alone."
"That could take hours. How long until—"
"I don't know. But the poison is spreading. It needs to be soon."
"I'll go make discreet inquiries," Anetta said.
"Thank you," I called as she hurried away, disappearing down the stairs.
The doctor thrust a leather case into my hands.
"What's this?" I asked.
"Tools," he said, giving me another apologetic smile. "If you find someone who can do it, these will help. I must go. I have other patients waiting. One of Carlina's patrons got himself stuck in that infernal device she uses. I've got to go sew the little fucker back up before his balls fall out." The doctor left, chuckling as he took the stairs below.
I held the case to my chest for a moment, steeling myself, and then I opened the door.
He lay on his back with his head leaned to the side. His eyes were still closed, and his face looked slightly paler than it had. The sight of him made my heart lurch. His presence in the room, the evidence of what I had done to him, nearly took my breath away. I didn't have words for the emotions that coursed through me as I looked at him. I just...I felt so bad for what I had done...and I needed him to be okay.
The doctor had opened his shirt and wiped away most of the blood. He lay on the bed with his broad, golden chest on full display. But the lovely, smooth skin was broken by an angry red, slightly puckered indentation in his pectoral muscle where my blade had pierced his skin.
Thin, branching black lines spread out from the wound, running across his chest, and disappearing under the edges of his shirt.
I stepped to his side. There was hardly a foot's worth of space beside the narrow cot, not even room for a chair. I sat down on the edge of the mattress and tentatively reached out a hand to the wound. It was cold, like death.
I laid my fingers on his head and then his neck. They were thankfully the same heady warmth I felt when I touched him earlier. I trailed my hands across his chest, tracing the black lines. The cold followed them, like death was spreading through his skin.
I knew mellitrium was a weakness for fae and other magic wielders, but I had no idea it could dothisto them.
I sat beside him for a long while with my palm on his chest. I felt the thud of his heart and counted his even breaths until Anetta came back.
"No one has heard of a single fae in Albiyn, let alone a group," she told me apologetically.
She stepped up to the bed, looking down at him silently for a moment. She reached out, and I thought she would touch him, but she pulled her fingers back suddenly.
I looked up at her and she met my eyes. "He doesn't even look real," she admitted with a shaky laugh. "How can a man be so...much?" she finished weakly.
I understood what she meant. He was beautiful and powerful looking even in unconsciousness. He was somehow more than mortal.
I wanted to laugh at the bewildered expression on Anetta’s face, but fear was coiling inside me, edging out everything else. I had noticed his chest seemed to be rising less as the minutes passed, the space between breaths slightly longer. I hoped it was my imagination but that itch in my muscles telling me to act was becoming more insistent.
After assuring me that she would keep looking for news of other fae in Albiyn, Anetta left to get back to her clients.
I checked the lines on his chest. They had grown at least a full inch since I first sat down beside him. I picked up the leather case and made the decision I had been mulling. I would have to do it myself.
"Fucking cowards," I muttered as I flipped open the latch on the leather bag. I surveyed the instruments inside; knives, forceps, some sort of large pins, rolls of gauze, and a bottle of clear liquor.
