Chapter 20
Amaris
“The mystique’s journalsays, if it works, it’ll take at least another few days for the rash to disappear,” Amaris shouted over her shoulder at Theodoric.
The worktable, stained yellow from crafting the tonic with the bufomom flower, had become Amaris’s permanent residence. She scratched at her nails, grimy with its pollen, as she stuck her nose deeper into the spine of the mystique journal. Astounding, descriptive, maybe even lucky. She had an entire outline of how to be a mystique within her possession. What Amaris didn’t know yet whether it was her new burden of responsibility or her saving grace.
Her own notes scattered the margins, written in an awful penmanship from the messy quill. She’d set about making comparisons from the drugs she knew on Earth to the properties of the herbs the mystique wrote about. So far, only a few were outrageous. One herb ate a person’s flesh. Amaris scoured the tower for it the moment she read the wordsimminent deathand placed it on the top shelf, out of any possible hands. She’d only seen a few children running around, but she had no plans to be sent to her deathfor them being eaten alive by void caraway.
“Esaias has taken the tonic for five days now. When can we expect to see improvements?” Theodoric slammed his book shut.
It’d only been five days, but he was already on his third novel. Amaris tried sneaking a peek at the cover that morning, but he’d casually slid his hand over the binding. She amused herself with the idea that he snuggled up at night reading romance novels. For his burly and masculine personality, she thought it fun to imagine he had a soft, romantic side. Teasing words hung in her head, but she considered how he could sit with a straight face and without a boner.
Her eyes peeled from the journal, but she shot them back down as her cheeks heated. Did she seriously poke her head up to check to see if he had one?
“This dose is the last.” Amaris grabbed at her collar, the stifling heat increasing at a rapid rate. “Then it’s a waiting game.”
She’d been trying to be optimistic for Theodoric’s sake, but Esaias was still confined to his bed. The bit of hope she clung to was that he’d survived the last five days. The journal’s recounting of the late mystique’s many patients overseas had an average mortality rate of two or three days.
After their venture into the city, she’d chastised herself for happily perusing paintings and eating mystery meat instead of slipping away into the crowded streets. She’d then felt a knot in her stomach and reminded herself,You’re a paramedic. You’re giving Esaias a chance.
Amaris had taken on, not only Esaias as her patient, but also Theodoric…not that he knew about it.Twice she’d watched his breathing grow erratic and his eyes glass over. She’d seen it before in patients with panic attacks, but until he approached her about it, she felt helpless to do anything. But the paramedic within her felt compelled to act. Watching him rub at his dagger without a thought while he read had her antsy and needing to do something to help him.
Her best idea had been to throw whatever she could into saving Esaias,and that had also meant postponing her escape attempt until the last tonic. As much as it’d pained her to wait, Theodoric’s growing impatience and fear held her at bay the last few days when he’d left regularly to check on Esaias or asked constantly about the progress of his condition. He was grasping at straws that Amaris could perform some miracle, like she’d done with basic CPR after the river.
Theodoric sauntered toward her, pinching the small vial between his fingers. “I’m going to give him the last tonic. I’ll be back to escort you to your bedchambers.”
“You could let me walk there myself.” She didn’t look up, still feeling the burning sensation in her cheeks.
Ever since he’d told her that he didn’t believe her to be a cold-blooded killer, she’d begun testing her boundaries for when she was ready to make her mad escape. Sephardi no longer hung around in his absence. He escorted her to and from her room, but when he visited Esaias or trained, she was left alone.
“I’m not giving anyone any leverage to think the worst of you. I’ll see you to your chambers.” He closed the tower door behind him, his steps silent as he made his way down the stairwell. He was good at that, creeping around.
Amaris watched the clock sitting atop the sagging mantel, waiting a good ten minutes until she made her move. Her gut tightened as she descended the stairs. With her door locked every night, her only window to escape would be when Theodoric trusted her enough to leave her in the tower. She considered asking for his help in her escape, but she wasn’t prepared to answer the questions regarding where she was from or the possibility he would refuse. Yesterday had been a trial run, and she’d made it as far as the mezzanine before she ran into Pricilla.
With the last dose of the tonic on its way to Esaias, she could escape any day now, but not tonight. Anxiety had her fingers clinging to the stairwell walls. She needed to have her escape planned and set before Esaias’s condition worsened. Without any improvements, his state hadgrown stagnant, which further sent jitters through her. If Esaias didn’t make it, she’d need to be ready, because the duke likely wouldn’t let her live to see another day.
As she stepped into the library, she couldn’t fathom what Derek was going through. She’d be hysterical. Throughout her planning, she’d begun to wonder what Derek would do or say first. A plate of cinnamon rolls, a dozen kisses, and a sincere apology were what she needed, but a daunting thought lingered in her mind.What if Derek thinks I left him?
Her only hope was that Viv knew she’d disappeared and had Derek using all his resources within the police department to find her.
Each step through the library felt criminal. It was well past dinnertime, meaning the librarians were gone for the night. The eerie shadows of dim lanterns unsettled her as she tiptoed through the bookcases. Upon reaching a corner, Amaris heard it. It was either a faint hum, or someone had left a window cracked.
She stuck her head around the corner, but the path was empty. Her shoulders sagged, and she pressed on, ignoring the spike of her heartbeat. She sidestepped a ladder, but something landed on the top of her head and sent her flying to her back. Slightly dazed, she spotted Pricilla perched on the top rung with her leg locked around it and a mountain of books stacked in one arm.
Pricilla’s humming ceased, and her eyes widened. Discarding the remainder of the books on an empty shelf, she slid down the rails without a single grunt or hiss. “I’m dreadfully sorry. Are you alright?” Pricilla reached down and hauled Amaris to her feet. “Sometimes I get lost in my head up there.” Laughing briefly to herself, she leaned into the ladder. “Why are you up so late?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” Amaris rubbed the top of her head. She was going to have a bruise everywhere by the time she got home.
“I got caught up with a good book. I need to put away that stack before I leave for the night or Talitha won’t be pleased.”
“Talitha?”
“The head librarian.” Pricilla said, then added, “Well, and my mother.”
“Ladies,” Ms. Borstad called from down the aisle. Her hands fanned her flushed cheeks as she marched toward them. She dragged her sleeve over her wrinkled forehead. “I thought I heard lovely voices.”
Pricilla smiled, but Amaris inclined a brow. She’d never seen Ms. Borstad outside the kitchen or the main hall. Thankfully, she was still among the population clueless to the actual reason for Amaris’s extended stay.
