Page 103 of Waking Roslyn

Useless. That’s how I felt. Completely useless. So I stood there and watched her breathe while my mind whirled and a torturous ache formed in my chest, tangled with fear, worry, guilt, and anger. Why hadn’t we gone earlier? Why had her parents insisted she stay?

It was a relief when the doctor arrived, and I tried to stay out of the way as he worked and her parents hovered.

Eventually, the doctor sat back, looking stumped. “I’ve never seen this before. I’ve only heard of it.”

“Heard of what?” the duchess asked in an anxious whisper, hanging on the doctor’s every word.

The doctor turned his serious gaze on Roslyn’s parents. “The effects of moon thistle. It only grows in the northern marshes, and the tiny white flowers are poisonous. They slow the heart and cloud the mind. When brewed in a tea and taken in small doses, it can be used to calm hysterics or prevent the violent tendencies of mad patients—very useful. If too much is taken, it’s an unpleasant but manageable experience. However, that’s only when it’s brewed in a tea or eaten right off the plant. But this is…”

“She didn’t eat or drink it,” I said. “It was a powder she inhaled.”

He let out a defeated sigh. “Only recently, some apothecaries have been experimenting with drying and crushing the flowers, encouraging their patients to inhale it. But it was soon discovered that inhaling the moon thistle exacerbated the effects, leaving the patients unconscious for hours or days, or in some cases…”

“What?” the duke demanded.

But he didn’t need to ask. We all knew what he was going to say. So when he quietly answered with one word—“dead”—I wasn’t surprised.

The duchess cried out in agony, and I almost wished I could do the same.

“Your Grace,” the doctor interrupted loudly, taking the duchess’s hand in his. “Let me assure you. In those cases, death was almost immediate. The fact that Lady Roslyn is breathing now leaves me with every hope that eventually she will come out of the sleep on her own.”

“Will it hurt her permanently? If she comes out of it, will she be the same?”

“So far as I know, there is no lasting damage, so long as the sleep does not last more than three days.”

“But how can she survive? She can’t eat or drink.”

“It is hard on the body, but it can be survived.”

I took his words and held them tightly, telling myself they were true. She could recover. She would recover. I paid close attention as the doctor explained what could be done for her. Tiny amounts of broth could be administered if it was done carefully. She would need to be moved occasionally to prevent skin sores from being in one place for too long.

The doctor agreed to stay in residence to watch over and care for her so long as he wasn’t called away for any other emergencies. But first he would have to return to his home to gather what he would need.

He left us with assurances that her heart was beating steadily and that her breathing had been consistent.

After he left, her parents debated how and where to situate her, sending for the housekeeper and Everly to be consulted.

And I stood by, useless.

“I just saw the doctor leave,” someone said from behind me.

I turned at the sound and discovered Lord Everett Malladon standing in the doorway, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. I was immediately on edge and moved to put myself between him and Roslyn’s sleeping form.

“Is everyone all right?” he asked as he stepped closer, trying to see what we were gathered around. Then he caught sight of Roslyn and his face blanched. “Did she faint? Is she well?”

I wanted to read callous deception and trickery in his expression, but he seemed genuinely concerned and surprised.

“It’s no concern of yours,” the duke snapped at him. “She will be fine,” he insisted, though his voice trembled. “She will be fine.”

“But what’s happened?” Lord Everett asked again. “Please, if I can help—”

“Help?” the duke raged, pushing to his feet. “Do not feign concern here. I’ve seen your family’s hate for my daughter. Get out! Go!”

Though Lord Everett still looked confused, he did not protest when a guard stepped up and escorted him from the room.

“Do you think he did this?” the duchess asked from her place beside her daughter. “Was he here to gloat?”

The duke went to her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “I don’t know, darling. I don’t know what to think, but we cannot trust anyone outside of this house.”