“Good for you.” Journey spoke for his ears only.
Despite the heartsease, dizziness again closed in on him. Lucas had hoped to finish his business, walk to his room, and then collapse, but he resigned himself to being carried out on a stretcher.
“Journey is my mate,” he said, hoping his voice would be heard. “Extend her every courtesy.”
Queen Livia squeezed his hand. “Of course we will. Lucas, please relax. Nothing will harm her or you.”
“I can give a grand duke orders,” King Andrei added. “Vaclav will be going on a restful vacation in the countryside until you return to America. You will not see him again.”
Lucas did relax upon hearing those promises. The last thing he felt was the gentle touch of Journey’s fingers in his hair.
Chapter Eleven
Journey
Lucas was carried to his bedroom on a stretcher. The doctor, the king and queen, and Journey followed, and stayed after the stretcher-bearers were dismissed. Lucas lay unconscious in his canopied bed, his face white as his pillow. Even after he’d taken the heartsease, he was cold to the touch. His breathing was barely perceptible.
Journey stood by the bed, her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. Lucas couldn’t die now, after enduring so much. He couldn’t.
She was terrified that he would.
Journey was not reassured when the doctor pulled an ancient, witchy-looking book out of his bag and consulted it, muttering that there hadn’t been a case of dragonsbane poisoning in a hundred years. Then he woke Lucas.
“How much dragonsbane did you swallow?” asked the doctor.
It took Lucas a moment to answer. He seemed to find it difficult to speak. “Two or three...”
“Two or three drops?” the doctor asked, looking relieved. “Good. I had worried that it was more. You will be better in a few—”
“Two or three spoonfuls,” Lucas corrected him. “Five times.”
Terror washed over Journey at the expression on the doctor’s face. Finally, he said, “Are you certain?”
Lucas nodded.
The doctor stared at him, then turned away and picked up the witchy book again. While he was consulting it, the king stepped forward.
“I shall pour the same dose down Constantine’s throat,” said King Andrei.
Lucas shook his head.
“Andrei, no,” said Queen Livia. “That has been banned in Brandusa for a hundred years. It would be dishonorable to break our own laws for the sake of personal vengeance. Let us use only a touch of dragonsbane on his skin, just enough to keep him from shifting. And let us imprison him for life in our darkest, deepest cell, so he may never again know the freedom of the skies.”
The king looked at Lucas. “Would that content you?”
Lucas nodded.
“Very well. He may suffer more from that in the long run.” King Andrei sounded as if he hoped the duke would.
The doctor closed the book and poured out another cup of heartsease, looked at Lucas, then handed it to Journey.
“I am not going to strike you,” Lucas said to the doctor, with the faintest touch of exasperation.
Journey sat on the edge of the bed and held the cup to his lips. Lucas drank, then closed his eyes. Silence fell. She touched his cheek, but he didn’t stir. Despite the roaring fire in the hearth and the blankets piled over him, he was still very cold.
“Will he be all right?” Journey blurted out. She’d been biting her lip before, too afraid to ask.
“It’s hopeful that he’s lived this long,” replied the doctor evasively. “He is very strong, or he would have died in the dungeon.”