Devyn’s mom has tiny eyes and they close a little bit as she thinks. They almost disappear. “Possibly, but Zara …”
Possibly has to be good enough.
“That will take time,” she says. “We don’t have time.”
We don’t have time.
“Becca!” I call for her to come back into the room. “Is there anything I can do? As his queen?”
She swallows hard, but nods. “You can take half.”
“Half what?” Devyn barks.
“His poison. The injury.”
“How?”
“You can’t, Zara!” Devyn throws up his hands, most likely in frustration. “Just once could you think something through? Just once, Zara. Do not be the martyr. We need you.”
I silence him with a look and he clucks, angry, and turns back to Astley, feeling the pulse in his neck.
“You are entwined. There is a link between you that is stronger than the link between him and the rest of us,” Becca quickly explains. She gets more animated as she talks, excited by the possibility. “If he were not the king, drawing on the health and power of the rest of us, he would already be dead. I have heard that a queen can help.”
“How?”
Her emotions ooze out of her. It’s all worry mixed with hope. “It’s not good.”
“Just tell me, Becca.”
“It’s like … Where’s Amelie?”
Devyn’s mom finishes taking blood from Astley’s arm and hands it to Devyn. She says, “We don’t have time to lollygag around. Tell her what it takes.”
Becca goes flat. “He has to drain you.”
I flash to what I saw my father’s pixies doing to Jay Dahlberg. They bit him, kissed him, drained him of his energy somehow. I’m not sure how. I just know it almost killed him.
“Do you have to bite me or kiss me?” I ask.
“No, just lay hands on you,” Becca says, “and on the king. The power should transfer. I’ve never done it, though. And it hurts. You should know that it hurts, Zara.”
“It doesn’t matter. Just do it.” I squeeze onto the bed, close my eyes. “Just do it before I think about it.”
I grab Astley’s hand in mine. His whole body is burning up, and his skin looks puffy and unnatural. I can feel the life ebbing out of him. Devyn’s parents will never isolate the poison and find an antidote in time. There’s no choice, really. Not for Astley. Not for me. He’s given me so much. It’s the least I can do.
“I don’t know if he’d want you to do this,” Becca says. She hovers over us and Devyn starts muttering objections too, and I get ready to shush them but his mom does it for me.
“Zara’s choice, and we don’t have much time,” she says abruptly. “Devyn, take this to your father downstairs. See what’s taking so long with the shot. You. Blond pixie. Get started.”
Becca’s face hovers over mine. Her hair flops onto my cheek. “I’m so sorry, Zara. Try to focus on Astley. Look at him, maybe, or something.”
Turning my head, I do. He is so beautiful even when he’s blue and his teeth are pointy. It’s like all the good of him shines out even when he looks like a monster, bless his heart. I can’t lose him. The world needs him so much.
“You will be okay,” I tell him. “We’ll make you okay and we’ll go to that manor-house place and run through the gardens and bark back at the seals. I promise. You will not die like this.”
I grab his hand more tightly and Becca whispers, “Try not to scream.”
I wake up in Devyn’s room in the bed next to Astley. Looking across him, I can see that the light through the window means it’s morning and it’s still snowing. Scanning the room quickly, I suppress a moan. It feels like I’ve had the flu. Every muscle aches. My head throbs. My throat seems to have closed up, parched and broken. I vaguely remember last night, how it felt like I was dying. Nightmare images of demons and teeth, of the life being yanked out of me until I felt like I was just a husk of skin with nothing underneath. I can still hear the echoes of my own screams that zing around in my memory like flies trapped in a glass jar. I try to shake it all away.
Cassidy’s sleeping in a chair in the corner of the room. Her hand is clutching something, probably a crystal. Her braids dangle limply. Beyond her, Amelie and Becca pace the hallway. Devyn’s snoring on the floor right below me. His laptop is flipped open and upside down on his stomach. Everyone looks like hell, especially Astley.
Propping myself up on an elbow, I tuck the sweat-caked strands of hair behind my ear and get a better look at my king. His chest moves up and down in a normal breathing pattern. I place my non-weight-bearing hand on his skin. It’s warm, but not boiling hot anymore. The puffiness has faded away. His chin seems more pointy and his jawline seems sharper than I remember.
“He will be okay,” Cassidy whispers from across the room.
I don’t turn to look at her. “You’re awake?”
“Barely.” There’s a sound of her stretching, of her vertebrae shifting into shape.
My hand moves from Astley’s chest to his face. His skin is shiny from when he was feverish. His hair is mussed and sticking up everywhere. Even in sleep, he seems tense. There’s a line in between his eyebrows, like he’s thinking about horrible things.
Groaning as she stands up, Cassidy joins me. She is obviously trying really hard not to topple over. She doesn’t look much better than Astley, really.
“Are you sure he’ll be okay?” I ask. “Will you be okay?”
“It was very touch and go,” Cass says. “But your energy saved him, and Devyn’s mom isolated part of the poison. She treated both of you. You’ve bounced back more quickly, obviously. They had been developing a poison themselves, so that helped.”
“And your magic helped.” I state the obvious. Cassidy is part elf. She doesn’t know how much or even really how her magic works. It’s all trial and error, but it involves chanting and crystals and the elements. It also drains her energy. The bigger the magic, the worse she feels.
“A little bit.” Her voice is so tired, and her face is too. Circles make themselves at home beneath her eyes and she looks like she’s lost about twenty pounds.
“I worry about you, Cass.”