Kiss of the Devil

Chapter 8

A week later, Genevieve weakly opened her eyes. She felt strange. She had more energy and strength than she ever had before. She stood and tried to walk to the window only to almost run straight through it. How had she managed to travel such distance so quickly? Her head ached, and her mouth was dry and tacky. It was like she hadn't drunk anything for centuries.

Genevieve stumbled to the door, making sure to go slowly this time. She opened it, leaning heavily against the sturdy door. She opened her mouth, but only a raspy voice came out. Her teeth ached and felt strange. She cleared her throat and tried again.

"Sarah! Sarah, I need you!" she called, hoping her dutiful maid would hear her.

Before she could trudge back to her bed, a different maid came running up. The maid helped her back into bed and tucked her in the covers. Before Genevieve could object, the servant girl was checking her vitals.

"Where's Sarah?" Genevieve weakly asked.

The maid hesitated before answering honestly, "The day you were poisoned, she was taken to the dungeons under suspicion of the act."

Genevieve groaned and leaned her head into the pillows. She'd hoped it had all been a bad dream. Then it hit her. Her only friend was locked away for a crime she had nothing to do with. She knew who had poisoned her, but before she could protest, Margaret and Jessibel appeared in the doorway.

"You may leave. We can take it from here," they said in unison.

The maid wavered before curtsying deeply to the weak woman and rushing out of the room. Her ladies-in-waiting approached and began fawning over her, declaring that they'd been worried sick. Genevieve didn't buy it for a second, but she didn't want them to know that she knew. She had to find Archard and get out of this place.

"Where is my brother? Where is Alaric?" Genevieve asked.

"Just rest, sweetie," murmured Jessibel. She feigned innocence far too well for Genevieve's liking.

"I want my prince and my brother. Now!" groaned Genevieve.

Jessibel looked to Margaret. It was clear now who had orchestrated this all. Margaret nodded slowly, and Jessibel ran out of the room. Margaret sat next to Genevieve on the bed.

"How much do you remember from that day?" Margaret asked tenderly, but suspicion showed bright and apparent in her eyes.

Genevieve shook her head. "It's all such a blur. I don't even remember what caused this," she lied.

Just as Margaret opened her mouth to speak again, Archard ran through the door. He scrambled up into the bed and wrapped his arms around Genevieve's neck. Margaret walked out of the room, leaving the brother and sister alone.

"Genie, I thought you were gonna die," he sobbed.

Tears pricked her eyes, and she held her brother close. "I'm all right, I promise. Please, stop crying, Archard. I'm right here," she murmured comfortingly.

A form stepped into the room. Genevieve's breath hitched in her throat as she looked up at her betrothed. Heavy tears began to pour down her cheeks. She sat up, making Archard get down. Alaric rushed to her side. He clutched her tightly and cried. The young couple clung to each other and wept.

"I'm so sorry," he kept whimpering. "You will never forgive me."

"Stop," she hiccuped. "You did nothing to wrong me." She moved away from him to look into his face, but he wouldn't meet her eyes.

Shakily, Alaric reached into his coat and pulled out a thick scroll. He pressed it into her hands before retreating from the room. He wiped his face and laboriously made his way back to his section of the castle. At first, Genevieve was too petrified to move. Had he poisoned her? The thought made her sick, and she ran to the bathroom to throw up.