The Belles (The Belles #1)(115)

“The hair wouldn’t grow back. No matter how many times I tried,” Arabella says.

Amber and I climb onto opposite sides of Charlotte’s bed.

Servants return with the porcelain jug of leeches. I dig my fingers in the damp jar, retrieving two—one for me and one for Amber. I loop the creature around my wrist. Amber mimics me. The leech’s tiny teeth bite into the vein, and its secretions start to flow.

“We have to work together.” I reach my hands over Charlotte’s body. Amber holds them tight.

“The last time we did this, we killed someone,” she whispers.

“We won’t change her at the same time. We just need to see her natural template and find out what’s wrong.”

Amber gulps, then nods. “But neither of our arcana are balanced.”

I squeeze her hand. “As long as we stay connected, we’ll be all right,” I say, even though it feels like a lie.

We close our eyes.

A knock rattles the door. “Your Majesty,” a guard calls out.

Amber jumps.

“Go on,” the queen says. “Ignore it.”

Arabella takes a sharp breath. I shake Amber’s hands. She closes her eyes again. In the darkness, I see Charlotte’s body. She’s thin, down to her bones. Almost a skeleton. I find every imperfection: her wispy hair, her hollow cheeks, her sallow skin, the too-slow beat of her heart. Her veins have a yellow tint beneath her skin. Her blood pressure is low. It reminds me of how I felt after being poisoned.

My eyes snap open. “Your Majesty, can I see the hair comb again?”

She hands it to me.

I turn it over and examine it, then wrench it open. The comb breaks. The queen gasps. The comb’s teeth release a clear liquid. The scent is familiar. “It’s poison. Just like the one that was used on me. It’s made from the pollen of bloodroot flowers.”

“We had her blood tasted.” The queen rushes to my side. “When she first became ill.”

The door vibrates again.

“Your Majesty!” the guards shout. “We will take down these doors.”

Lady Zurie rushes to press her back against them.

“Yes, but this poison smells and tastes like flowers,” I say to the queen. “I didn’t recognize it either.”

“How did the doctors not catch this?”

“It’s untraceable,” I say. “I overheard the nurses saying my blood was clean as well. But I know this smell now. I will never forget it.”

Amber touches Charlotte’s head. “It’s coming from her scalp. Look where the bald patches are. They’re oozing. The comb’s been piercing her.”

The queen rubs her fingers over Charlotte’s scalp. She sinks back. Arabella leads her to the chair, then scoops up the broken comb and holds it under a night-lantern. She sniffs. “There’s definitely something on the teeth.”

The door jolts forward.

“I don’t know how long I can hold them,” Lady Zurie calls out.

“She needs to have her blood cleaned.” I remove the leeches from my wrist and Amber’s, and pluck out the others in the jar. I hand a few to Amber. We lay them on Charlotte: on her wrists, beneath her neck, and on the top of her head near the small wound. The leeches turn a fiery red as they fill with her blood.

“Now, Amber, focus on her blood. Refresh the proteins, like we would someone’s skin or hair.”

“I’ve never done this before.”

“Me either.”

She looks at the queen.

“You have to try,” she cries.

Amber nods, a bead of sweat swooping down her nose.

The door starts to crack. The wood is being chipped away. The queen hollers. Lady Zurie beats back against it.

“I’m afraid,” Amber whispers. “And I’m so tired. I can’t feel the arcana anymore.”

“I’m tired, too.” I turn her wrist over and trace the veins. “It’s still there. It has to be.”

Her eyes are heavy with exhaustion. I lean over Charlotte and hug Amber. I fall neatly into the crook of Amber’s neck. The scent of orange blossom is still faint in her hair, even underneath the stench of the dungeons. “We can do this.” I hope my words burrow down inside her. “We’re strong together.”

Arabella’s hand squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll help, too.”

A door panel breaks. Sophia demands to be let in to see her sister. Amber, Arabella, and I clamp our eyes shut.

The arcana hiss underneath my skin.

The rhythm of Charlotte’s heart beats alongside mine. I see the pulsating organ—fleshy, red, thumping. Blood rushes through it and sluggishly moves through her veins. I push the arcana to reset the proteins, as I would her bones for beauty work. Amber and Arabella’s arcana combine with mine; it all showers through me like a hot rainstorm in the warm season.

Charlotte’s body jerks.

The queen screams.

Amber topples forward, crashing into me.

“Amber!” I shake her and hold her up.

Charlotte coughs and moans.

“Oh, my little girl.” The queen rushes to her side. “Wake up, please open your eyes.”

“You must go,” Arabella says to me.

Rémy helps me lift Amber’s body from the bed.