Of Blood and Roses

Chapter 18

[CW: Emetophobia]

My hands clenched at my stomach, another wave and nausea rolling through me, I stumbled through my room, slamming into my narrow water closet, and barely had time to position myself before I lost all the contents in my stomach.

Strands of my hair were plastered to my face, my skin sticky with a sheen of sweat. My chest burned, and my skin was hot. Everything inside me thudded and thrummed and the whispers were like nails against my throbbing head, digging and digging. Feathers and wings and soft fingers poked and prodded and the boning of my stays dug into my ribs.

I couldn't breathe.

I gasped in breaths. Panic swelled, a living demon in my chest begging to be set free.

I wanted to scream. To let everything out. To see everything shatter and collapse and splatter around me. The impulse grew and grew, but sat contained within, battering at the confines of my cage.

I stumbled to my feet. I went to lean against my vanity. I knew I needed to calm down. That I was letting my emotions get the best of me. I needed to breathe. To calm down. To think. Acting like this wouldn't help me, wouldn't protect me from this dangerous country.

I knew my Gift—the Angels—were a blessing. That thousands of people in Rosailles would give many things to be as blessed as I was by my lineage, but my growing panic mixed with the soft, gentle, whisper of their voices... I felt surrounded by things I couldn't see. Constantly haunted by ghosts with power of a scope beyond what I could imagine.

And they were there. Always. Relentlessly. Touching me, speaking to me, always at a tone beyond what I could hear. I just wanted to be alone. To breathe. To think. To be relieved of this pain in my chest, in my heart, in my head.

I sucked in labored breaths. My head gave a sharp throb. My vision blurred. Spots burst around me and I slumped forward—

"Your Highness!"

Gentle, strong hands, hooked themselves under me, taking on my weight as I struggled to hold myself up. I blinked, wheezing, only to see Sabine in the mirror, her hair a mess of curls around her face, her eyes wide. I licked my lips.

"My—" I struggled to breathe. My clothing was too heavy. I tried to gesture behind my back. "My ...can't...breathe."

Sabine propped me against the table of the vanity, jars and lotions clanking perilously as she undid my ties so she could get to the binding underneath. Once she had a few laces undone, I sucked what felt like my first breath of air in hours, my ribs throbbing.

She finished undoing the whole thing and helped me sit. I took a few moments to catch my breath, still trembling. Eventually, I calmed, the only sign the Angels had been there was the dull throb that remained in my head. Sabine, appearing at a loss for what to do, moved to pour me a glass of water, placing it before me, and then leaned back, arms crossed.

Once I had caught my breath, everything came to me, but slower. I thought it through, slowly sipping my water. I let the silence hang awkwardly between us, fully aware it was driving her mad.

Finally, I asked, "Are we alone?"

Sabine crinkled her brow but nodded. "It is just you and I."

I placed my cup down, fingers still trembling slightly. I nodded stiffly. "Good. I need to discuss a few things with you and cannot risk anyone overhearing."

If Sabine was to be a spy, it was time she started bringing her reports to me.

There was a slight flicker in her gaze, the only indication she knew what I was referring to.