War of Winter (Iron Fey Fanfiction)

Chapter 31 - Thistle

         It was around midnight when Crystal jerked awake beside Rowan's cot. Disoriented and covered in a light sheen of sweat, she glanced around, her hand immediately going to her dagger strapped at her thigh. 

   Rowan was sound asleep, although restlessly, sweat glistening on his skin with fever. She carefully reached out to feel his forehead. He was no better. Even after applying several cold rags to his skin and forcing ice water down his throat, he was still burning up with fever. 

  Something was terribly wrong. He'd also begun to hallucinate. The only thing Crystal could think of that would be the logical occurrence of his illness, was that the Weapon that had exploded next to him contained a toxic gas, therefore rendering the victim terribly sick. 

  Crystal ran a hand through her tangled hair. Rowan's lips were paler than usual and terribly dry. She had to try again to bring his fever down. Snatching up two rags, she dunked them in the water bucket next to his cot, sending icy glamour into the water so that it was nearly freezing. She carefully wrung out the rags and placed one on the prince's bare chest, and one on his forehead. 

  Rowan stirred slightly and coughed in his sleep. Crystal smoothed back his hair and her brow furrowed with worry. Making a decision, she straightened and slowly exited the tent, reluctant to leave him but knowing she had to find someone who knew an antidote. She posted five of his Thornguards outside his tent, which didn't take much persuasion.

  Heading across the camp toward the healers' tent, she swallowed and took a breath as the ghostly healers' chill crept up her spine and rent fear deep in her belly. Thankfully, one of the ghosts was outside of the tent, sitting on a log and nursing a cup of some dark liquid that smelled an awful lot like burnt coffee and something dying, 

  "I need your help," she said evenly, her hand instantly going to her knife belted at her waist. The ghost did not acknowledge her presence, just sat there as still as a corpse, the soft breeze ruffling its dirty blue cloak. 

 Crystal waited for a spell before sighing impatiently. She opened her mouth to say something more but then the ghost slowly reached its arm to the side, patting the log beside it. She hesitated but sat, waiting for an answer. 

  You seek to save the prince, the ghost told her through its mind. It wasn't a question. The ghosts voice was male and Crystal swallowed, nodding, somehow not being able to bring herself to speak. Then you must obtain it from one of the members of the Black Rose. 

 The ghost paused and did not continue. "What...is the Black Rose?" Crystal asked carefully. She had a bad feeling in her gut but she just needed to hear it 'said' (considering the ghost was speaking to her through her mind.)

  Look deeper into those around you. You will see. The members of the Black Rose all wear a sigil tattooed on their upper chests. I suppose you will find one of them soon enough. All members carry a vial of Faux Blood, the antidote to being directly exposed to Devouring Gas. It will save your prince. The whole vial, if you will, the ghost explained. He was silent afterward. 

 Crystal nodded, not really knowing how she would find a member of this mysterious group the ghost healer spoke of. "I appreciate the information," she said, quickly hurrying off. The ghost did not respond. 

                                                                                 ***********

    Early rays of sunlight were beginning to peak above the horizon when Crystal leaned against a tree, getting more and more anxious by the moment. Several non ghostly healers were attending to Rowan, non of who could figure out how to help him except try to bring the fever down. 

  It was only when he started coughing up blood that the healers became deeply concerned, rushing about to bring more cold rags, as if that would completely fix him. Crystal had looked all night for a tattoo on the upper part of soldier's chests. So far, she hadn't had any luck. 

  Closing her eyes she took a deep breath, thinking back to the General in the Summer encampment who'd had a sigil of a black rose tattooed upon his chest. Whose throat had been brutally slit outside her and Rowan's (Lukas and Flora's) tent. 

  It didn't make any sense. Who or what would have killed him? Was it one of his own? Had he betrayed them? She pinched her nose and shook her head slightly, deprived of sleep and feeling a headache coming on. 

  "Hey! You look like you need this," a familiar voice said near her ear, its sensual timbre making her skin tingle. She sighed and opened her eyes, bringing them to rest on Thistle, hating how handsome he looked in the early morning dawn. 

  He handed a cup of the same dark liquid the ghost had been drinking to her. She wrinkled her nose. "Ugh, what is this stuff?" she asked him, taking a cautious sniff.

 "The humans call it coffee, or espresso, if you will," Thistle said, leaning against the tree, his chest brushing her shoulder. She fought the urge to step away. But, in doing so, she might seem weak or disgusted by him. Such an insult could set him off, and there was something strange about him today.

  "I can't believe soldiers are now trusting mortal beverages," she griped. She took a sip and almost spit it out. "I can't-" she started to say, handing it back to Thistle, who chuckled and took the mug, his fingers brushing hers.

  "You look exhausted, Crystal," he murmured, sipping at the disgusting beverage. She turned her head to give a snarky reply...

....and came face to face with a small tattoo in the shape of a delicate black rose peeking out of the open collar of Thistle's black shirt. 

 The words caught in her throat and she found herself staring at it. "Crystal?" she heard him ask. "Is everything all right...?" He paused and she snapped out of it, feeling as if she were the one guilty.

 "You...um...got a tattoo!" she remarked, trying to make the conversation light hearted. But Thistle wasn't having any of it. He quickly pulled his collar to cover the mark, his eyes growing dark and masked with something Crystal had never seen before on his face. 

 "What about it?" he asked. More like snapped, really.

 Crystal was rendered speechless for a moment. "I...well...where? What's it supposed to mean? Family or house marking?" He wasn't buying her little game, apparently.

 Thistle tossed his coffee mug aside, the black liquid seeping into the soil. "Why do you ask such sinister questions, snow princess?" he purred, stepping closer. Crystal instinctively began to back away further into the forest, her hand going to her knife. "You act as if I am in the wrong, somehow," he continued.

 The expression Thistle wore was no longer the playful, mischievous mask that decorated his face. Now he looked as if he literally wanted to eat her alive. This was a dark Thistle, one Crystal had failed to see coming, or had been tricked like everyone else. The thought of being tricked, led into a trap, enraged her. 

 "Who are you?" she snarled, this time drawing and brandishing her knife, twirling it between her fingers both to intimidate him and calm her nerves. Her vision was oddly tilting, and dizziness was playing a dangerous game with her head. 

  He grinned, and she hated how it made her heart race - and not in fear. "I think you know who I am, Crystal," he said, his voice like acid on velvet. She continued to back up slowly, playing the game of cat and mouse, although the mouse had a needle in its jaws. 

 "What is the Black Rose?" she snapped. "Stop toying with me." She almost swore as her back met with the trunk of a tree. Her vision swayed and she felt strongly lightheaded, her limbs growing heavy. Panic washed through her and she could only watch as Thistle continued towards her. He only stopped moving when his body was nearly centimeters from touching hers. She wanted to push him away in disgust and ravish him at the same time. 

 God, what was wrong with her? She hated herself for feeling this way. Thistle leaned close and spoke in her ear, his cold breath sending a shiver down her spine. "The Black Rose is its own order, its own kingdom..." he trailed off to run his finger down her cheek, leaving frost behind. 

 "And I, its king." 

  And that is when the darkness overtook her, and Crystal new nothing more.