Something is wrong and it’s not the potency of the tonic.
When I take my turn on watch, it’s hard to keep my eyes trained onour surroundings. I want to linger over Stide and Loch and ignore the hopelessness taking hold inside me.
The morning brings no relief. Though Stide tosses and turns beneath her blanket, she doesn’t awaken with the rest of us.
‘We can get everything packed up first,’ Ruben says, already tending to the horses. ‘She clearly needs the rest. We’ll wake her when we’re ready to go.’
None of us disagree, but I feel the unspoken thought whirring between us.
He’s right. Sickness so often needs rest, but we have no time for it. We’re still another two days from the base of the Coltan Mountains, which mark the edge of the Issen territory, and the weather is likely to get worse and worse.
Moving too slowly will get us killed in this cold. We must keep warm or keep moving – those are our only choices.
And the thought of further delay chafes at me. I cannot stop picturing the lacy ice pattern on William’s skin.
When all are ready, Thessa and I make our way over to wake the Sanning. Her tossing has lessened, and she is curled on her side, head buried beneath the blanket. How she withstood the heat from the fever that burned her up in the night is a mystery.
As I wait with the last of the ineffectual tonic, Thessa gives Stide a gentle shake, and then a firmer one.
‘Stide,’ she calls softly. ‘It’s time to get up.’
She shakes her again, this time pulling her slightly so that the blanket falls away. As her face is revealed, we lurch back.
‘No …’ Thessa’s voice is a whisper – heartbreak on a breath.
Tears sting my eyes as Stide struggles to sit, exposing more and more mottled green skin.
‘Thessa?’ Stide asks. So many questions hang in her single word, but as my heart lodges in my throat, I know I am not going to be the one to answer any of them.
‘Your skin,’ Thessa tries, as tears begin to stream down her face. ‘You’re … you’re turning.’
Stide’s eyes fall shut. ‘It was such a small scratch. I hoped … I hoped …’ As she trails off, Thessa leans tentatively forward, tugging open the layers of her clothes. As Stide’s left arm falls free, we see that the mottled skin there is darker still, no sign of life left within it. Nothing but the green veins of the Rottings. And at the centre, a tiny mark, less than a fingernail’s width in length. That is all it took.
Caz appears behind us, stifling a cry at the sight of the green-webbed death sentence.
‘Thessa. What do we do?’ I ask, my voice determined. The Sannings have far greater experience with the Rottings than we do. They must know what can be done. The infection is not complete yet. It cannot be, not if she can still speak, and still move without lurching towards us. ‘How do we stop it?’ I press. ‘Halt its progression?’
The Sanning offers no reply beyond her sobbing, which grows more ragged as her chest heaves in desperate breaths that bring no relief, no matter how deeply she inhales.
‘We do not,’ Stide says simply. ‘It cannot be halted, The Rose.’
I can feel the others gathering around us now. Silent sentinels, watching and waiting for a verdict that none of us wants to accept, even if Stide herself is willing to admit the truth.
‘There is only one way this process goes,’ Kyor confirms softly. ‘Stide knows it. We all know it.’
‘No,’ Caz mumbles, wiping the tears as they roll down her cheek. ‘No.’
‘She cannot be rotting,’ Thessa sobs softly. ‘She cannot. It’s wrong!’ The words fracture as they leave her mouth.
Itiswrong. None of us bother to deny it. All of this is so very, very wrong. And yet, here we are.
Continuing to shiver through the fever, Stide lifts her gaze to Kyor. If she feels fear, I cannot see it on her face.
‘A bolt to the heart will be quick and painless. If you would, wolf man?’
‘No!’ Thessa cries before Kyor can answer. The word tears out of her, raw and ragged, as she drops to her knees beside Stide, clutching her hand as though she can anchor her to this world by sheer force of will. ‘Lightning will hurt. I will not have your last moments be in pain.’ Her bottom lip trembles violently. ‘I won’t have it.’
Stide’s gaze softens as it shifts to Thessa. There is so much in thatlook, and my heart aches for them both. I’ve seen it before, in Llinos’s eyes as she gazed at Caz right at the end. Gratitude. Love. Regret. The things never said.
