Blooms of Consequence (Dusk Gate Chronicles - Book Four)

by Breeana Puttroff

  “And he sent you here to prove it.”

  “Yes.”

  His quick, honest answer surprised her. “What do you believe?”

  He sighed again. “I never believed that Stephen wanted to take over our kingdom. But then, I never believed there really was a gate connecting this world to another one, either.”

  “What changed your mind about that?”

  He glanced back at her mother and her siblings. “When I watched your family appear out of nowhere onto a bridge the night before last.”

  Well, that answered that question, although she couldn’t figure out what would have possessed her mother to bring her siblings and come looking for her here. There were still several days left of spring break, and she hadn’t made any promises about when she would return.

  “And my mother told you about the big conspiracy Stephen has to take over the kingdom using a woman and two small children?”

  He met her gaze. He’d been raised a prince in a castle with Hector and Tolliver – he would rise to whatever challenge she set. “It actually appeared to be news to her that you are courting Prince William.”

  Her own expression was guilty as she finally glanced back at her mom. Quinn had somehow come to have an entire life here in this world that her own mother knew nothing about. The last time she had been home, she had told her mom a little about her relationship with William, but it hadn’t been so serious then.

  Nausea bubbled up in her stomach again, and she swayed, but managed to stay on her feet and keep herself from vomiting.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I need to sit down.” She wasn’t going to let this stop her from having this conversation. Every instinct she had was screaming how important this was.

  He picked up a wooden folding chair, and set it on the ground next to her. As she sank down into it, in the most dignified way she could manage, he pulled up another chair across from her, and sat down.

  His action put her strangely at ease – that he sat down to stay level with her, rather than towering over her. “Better?” he asked, in a gentle voice that caught her even more off guard.

  “Sort of,” she said.

  In the corner, her mother twitched, again as if she was about to dash across the tent to her, but Quinn shook her head once, silently begging her mother not to, not yet.

  Taking a deep breath, she mustered up the strength to look him in the eyes. “What is your goal here, Jonathan? Not what you’re telling me Tolliver sent you for – I don’t believe for a minute that you’re actually doing his bidding the way he surely thinks you are. Why did you really come? What do you want?”

  He paused for a long moment, clearly weighing his next words. “When I came here, I wanted to know if it was really true – the rumors. If Stephen really does want to see the kingdoms united again. If he’s willing to stand up and help me remove my half-brother, and somehow return our crown to the rightful line.”

  “But now?”

  “Now I don’t know what to believe. Why is Stephen in contact with another world? I didn’t believe Tolliver – thought it was all just more of his nonsense and bluster. I really thought Stephen would never do something like that. But here you are, courting William. And you are from another world, are you not Lady Quinn?” His sarcasm on the word lady was thick and mocking.

  “Sort of,” she answered.

  “What do you mean? Either you are, or you aren’t.”

  “All right. I was born and raised in a different world than this one, yes.”

  “Then what are you doing here? Why do you know as much as you do? Because I don’t ‘believe for one minute’ that Stephen – or any of his sons – would just share that level of information with some little girl from anywhere unless they had a reason for doing so.”

  Although she knew his words had been carefully selected to elicit a reaction from her, she still bristled at his tone. She had to close her eyes and pull two long breaths in through her nose to keep herself from spitting out a response that she would regret.

  “What does Stephen want with you?”

  She opened her eyes and stared at him, her expression hard and even. “You’re the one who has kidnapped me and my family. You think I trust you enough to give you any answers about Stephen when you can’t even tell me why you’re here? You could get your information and then just kill us all anyway.”

  The glance toward her family then was involuntary. Annie was sitting in her mother’s lap, wide-eyed. Quinn struggled to read her mother’s expression. It was a strange combination of fear and . . . pride? Owen’s face surprised her the most, though. He was perfectly calm, watching her with interest. As she looked at him, he glanced once at Jonathan, and then nodded back at her. His meaning was clear. Owen trusted Jonathan.

  Jonathan stood from his chair and paced back and forth along the length of the canopy, watching Quinn intently as he did.

  Finally, he returned to the chair across from her, though he leaned across the back of it, rather than sitting.

  “Tolliver sent me here to gather more information about you – the mysterious girl from nowhere, who is suddenly courting the enigmatic Prince William. Tolliver is, shall we say, somewhat excessively interested in you, Quinn.”

  She nodded. “I’ve met him.”

  “What did you do to him?”

  “I believe my biggest offense was rejecting his . . . advances.”

  Jonathan coughed, but nodded. “That sounds about right.”

  “At the time, he accused me of being a conquest of Thomas’, and thought that Thomas was simply having difficulty sharing his toys.”

  “So you’ve come by your misgivings about my half-brother honestly, then.”

  “Quite. I’m not overly fond of his feelings of entitlement to a throne that doesn’t belong to him, either.”

  Once again, Jonathan’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “Why do you care, Lady Quinn? What difference does it make to you who sits on the throne of my kingdom?”

  Her heart was fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings, and the waves of nausea were so strong that she was having difficulty remaining on her chair. This was it. Somehow she just knew that whatever she told Jonathan here was going to determine the course of her future. Alvin’s voice from her dream resounded in her head. “The choice is yours.”

  Her decision wasn’t going to come quietly, in the privacy and safety of Stephen’s office. It was now.

  She stole one more glance at Owen. He smiled encouragingly up at her, and suddenly she was surer of herself than she’d ever been. She could do this – so long as she didn’t first vomit on the ground.

  Slowly, she reached into her pocket, and loosened the pin that held the small cloth pouch in place. Setting the pouch in her hand, she untied the drawstring, opened the bag, and reached inside.

  Jonathan watched in awed silence as she removed the two pendants, both made of Philothean gold. She picked up the older of the two, and held it in the air in front of him.

  “Samuel didn’t die in Philotheum,” she said.

  Jonathan leaned closer, and reached for the pendant, though he didn’t take it from her. He simply held it between his fingers, closely examining both sides. He glanced down at the pendant that still sat on her other hand. When he spoke, his voice was so quiet she had to strain to hear him. “You are his child.”

  She nodded, but could no longer form words. The nausea was so bad now that she couldn’t help it. Dropping to the ground in front of her chair, the motion sending searing waves of pain shooting through her leg, down toward her toes, and up through her hip, she leaned down and threw up.

  8. William's Question

  Fear churned in William’s stomach as he followed one of the men – the other was right behind him, making sure he didn’t go anywhere.

  Stupid and reckless – that’s what he’d been. Quinn was going to have his head for this – if he ever saw her again. Even Thomas had apparently grown more sense than to take off al
one the way William had.

  The two men gave off the distinct demeanor of castle guards. Though they didn’t speak much as they led him through the woods, the few words they did utter carried the subtle hint of a Philothean accent. William had no idea what he was riding into, but he was sure it wasn’t good.

  Eventually, they rode into a small clearing with a few tents. It appeared to be mostly empty, except for one man sitting outside one of the tents. They rode through the clearing and between some trees to a place where four horses were tied. Here, they dismounted, tied their own horses, and turned to William.

  Swallowing hard, he climbed down from his saddle and handed his lead to the man standing nearest him.

  He tried to pay attention to his surroundings as he followed his two captors back through the clearing, but he just couldn’t seem to focus. His heart was pounding so hard that the sound pounded in his ears.

  When he found himself in another clearing, walking up to a large canopy, he had no idea how he had gotten there.

  What he saw when they reached the open side of the canopy, made him forget where he was completely. Quinn was curled on her side on a mat near the entrance. A woman who looked a lot like Quinn’s mother, Megan – although that was impossible – had Quinn’s head in her lap, while a man crouched in front of her. Over in the corner, two children huddled together, looking worried.

  As he watched, Quinn lunged forward, coughed, and then threw up on the ground.

  The man who was crouched in front of her leaped backward, out of the way, although the amount of vomit was very small. William didn’t hesitate; he dashed across the short distance, edging the man the rest of the way away from Quinn, and pulled her into his arms.

  “Quinn! What’s wrong?”

  She stared at him, and blinked several times, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

  “It’s really me, sweetheart, I’m here. What’s going on?”

  She was hot, too hot. Her hair was matted to her forehead with sweat, and her eyes were shiny and bloodshot. She shrugged, glancing down at her leg.

  “What did you do to her?” He demanded, fury rising in his voice as he turned to the man next to him, but before the man could answer, he felt Quinn’s flaming hand on his arm.

  “It wasn’t him,” she said quietly, her voice rough from retching. “I fell last night, on my way here.”

  “You mean as you were being kidnapped in the dark?” William had never been so angry in his life. He stood, and the man did, too, facing him. “This is your fault. What is wrong with her?”

  “Prince Jonathan? Do you want us to take him out of here?” One of the guards who had brought him here took a step toward William.

  Prince Jonathan? William looked up at the man again. It had been many cycles since he had seen Tolliver’s older half-brother. For a long time now, Hector had sent only Tolliver to visit for official events – probably because he’d only been concerned with trying to marry Tolliver into Stephen’s family. And William had been young the last time he’d traveled to the castle in Philotheum.

  Now that he was looking, though, he could see it, could recognize the prince.

  He never did get to hear Jonathan’s response to the guard’s question. At that moment, there was a rustling in the brush at the edge of the clearing, and then the sounds of several horses as they walked through the foliage, and surrounded the canopy.

  The riders were all wearing the purple and silver livery of his father’s guard, and the first one to dismount and walk up to the canopy, sword drawn, was Ben.

  * * *

  Everything happened so quickly then that afterwards, William could never remember how it happened at all.

  The next thing he knew, he was mounted back on Skittles, a very ill Quinn nestled in his arms. She protested at being carried, but he ignored her. Ben and another guard, Nolan, followed behind him on their horses as he rushed back toward the castle. After only a few minutes, she fell asleep against him.

  He didn’t know what was wrong – how bad her injury was, or why she was so sick – but he didn’t want to take the time to find out while they were out here in the woods. He didn’t have anything to treat her with out here, anyway. He wanted her back at his castle in the clinic, where he would have everything he needed.

  Just as he finally emerged from the woods onto an actual road, Quinn woke up, and looked around in alarm. “Where are we?”

  William slowed down just a little, afraid she’d woken because the jostling was hurting her. “Shh . . . sweetheart, you’re safe now. We’re going back to the castle right now.”

  Her eyes widened. “Where are my mom and Annie and Owen?”

  William’s jaw dropped. “That really was your mom? How did she . . . What is she doing here?”

  “I don’t know! Will! Did you just leave them there? Stop! We have to go get them!” She pushed weakly at his arms, trying to take control of Skittles.

  “Hey,” he said, bringing the horse to a stop, and allowing Ben and Nolan to ride up beside them. “Calm down. We didn’t just leave them there. There were other guards. They’ll be bringing everyone back to the castle.”

  “Are you sure?” She looked panicked, and William wrapped his arms tightly around her.

  “I’m sure,” he said softly into her ear.

  “Everything is under control, Lady Quinn,” Ben said, leaning close and making eye contact with her. “I spoke to your mother for a few minutes while William was with you. She was only concerned with you getting back to the castle as soon as possible, but she and your siblings are following right behind. If it makes you feel any better, Nolan here will go back and check. He’ll have them brought to you immediately.” He nodded toward the other guard. “Right, Nolan?”

  “Yes, of course.” A moment later, Nolan was halfway down the road in the opposite direction.

  “Okay, love? Let’s just get you back, please?”

  Quinn only woke once more on the rest of the trip to the castle, and that was only because her stomach was heaving again. William held her on the side of the road, supporting her as she retched, but all that came up was the few sips of water he’d forced into her before they’d started riding.

  He didn’t think he’d ever been so happy to see the castle in his life. Ben rode ahead of him, speaking to the guard at the gate, and everyone got out of the way as William rushed her back to the clinic. Ben followed him, and helped him carry her inside.

  “Everyone’s going to be in an uproar,” Ben said, as they carefully laid the girl onto a cot.

  “I know they will. But could you keep them out of here for at least a little bit? Give her a few minutes to relax and let us figure out what’s going on? Unless it’s Nathaniel?”

  “Sure.” Ben reached to pat William on the shoulder. “Just take care of her, okay?”

  William nodded.

  Although he’d never seen her so sick or exhausted, Quinn’s eyes were open as he approached her, pulling with him a cart of supplies. Her cheeks were bright red, and her skin was dry and hot.

  “Hey, love,” he said softly, reaching for her wrist and using his fingers to find her pulse.

  “Hi.”

  “Feeling pretty rotten, huh?” Her heartbeat was a little too rapid for his liking, but it was strong.

  She nodded slightly.

  He pressed down gently on her fingernails, and watched as the color refilled too slowly. “How’s your stomach?”

  “It’s been better.”

  “Do you need to throw up again?”

  “Not right now.”

  “Good.” He leaned over and kissed her too-hot forehead. “Can I feel?” he asked, setting his hand gently on her abdomen.

  She nodded.

  “I need to open some buttons, okay? Just a couple.”

  She nodded, and he had a feeling she’d have been blushing if her face wasn’t already as red as it could get from the fever.

  “It’s a little awkward, isn’t it? I’ve never courted
a patient before.”

  “I consider that a good thing.”

  “Me too.” He unbuttoned the bottom two buttons of her shirt and then froze. A bright red lacy rash snaked over her entire abdomen. “Oh.”

  “What?” she asked, alarmed.

  “I think you have redrash.”

  “What? I have a rash? From what?” She tried to pull her head up to look, but he put his hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back down.

  “Yes, you have a rash. I think it’s something called redrash – that would explain the fever, too. I knew something was up with you yesterday.”

  “What is redrash?”

  “It’s a childhood illness. It’s usually not serious. Everyone gets it here – actually, we thought that Sarah might have had it last week. But, of course, you wouldn’t have had it when you were little.”

  “But it’s not serious?”

  “Not usually. Not for little kids, anyway. The older you are, though, the worse it can be. It’s probably why you have such a high fever and you’re throwing up.”

  “Can you treat it?”

  “We almost never have to, but I have an anti-viral remedy I can try, after I get some blood and make sure that’s what it is.”

  “Okay.”

  “Why is this damp?” he asked, tapping lightly on her leg, just below where the bandage peeked out from a tear in her tattered and bloody pants.

  “I tried to clean it out in a stream earlier – I didn’t have anything dry to wrap it back up in.” She was starting to go a little green at the edges again.

  “Okay.” He leaned up and kissed her again on the forehead, lingering for a second to bask in her scent. She was sweaty and dirty, but it was still her, here and real in front of him, and breathing her in calmed him enough to remember what he needed to do next. Sitting back down on the stool next to her, he pulled several packets out of a drawer and ripped them open.

  “I’m going to give you some medicine that will get rid of the nausea, all right?”

  She nodded.

  “But I need to start an IV first.”

  She closed her eyes for a long second before nodding again. “I think I knew that was coming,” she whispered.