William elbowed his way through terrified servants and nobles and reached the royal family's table.
The prince was being supported by the queen, his lips cyanotic and his face pale. He drew deep breaths, yet he seemed unable to inhale properly.
"Everyone, stay back!" the king shouted. "No one is to touch any food or wine! And someone go fetch the physician! Now!"
William slipped between two servants and reached the prince. "Your Highness, I'm here."
The prince gave him a desperate look. He wasn't breathing, and soon William would feel the poison's effects as well. He didn't have much time.
He looked at the queen. "Please, step back."
She nodded and moved a couple of steps away.
"Your Highness, I beg your pardon."
William pushed the prince's head downward and forced two fingers down his throat. A gush of vomit spilled over his sleeve and shoes. He waited for the retching to subside, then made him vomit again and again, until he was certain his stomach was empty.
Then he sat the prince on the floor and opened his jacket. He felt his abdomen, then his throat. His tongue was black, and small spasms made his fingers twitch.
William leaned close and smelled his breath, then did the same with the vomit staining his clothes.
"I know the poison."
"Can you save him?" the king asked in a faint voice.
"Yes."
"But Your Majesty!" Ballard shrieked. "You cannot trust this mage!"
William shot the royal advisor a razor-sharp glare. "My life is bound to the prince's. If there is anyone who has the strongest reason to save him, it is me. And now shut your damn mouth and start being useful."
"How dare you?"
"Ballard," said the king coldly, "step aside and be silent. Do you need anything, William?"
"Yes." William shifted his gaze to Nikolas, standing among the advisors. "Go to my room and fetch me a handful of night bellflower leaves. The pot is near the desk—you should be able to recognize it. Choose the largest and greenest."
"William, I…" Nikolas murmured.
"Hurry!"
Nikolas flinched and disappeared into the crowd.
"Will…" The prince's voice was faint and hoarse. "I'm sorry, it's my fault. I wasn't paying attention…"
"Don't talk nonsense. You were poisoned."
"I don't want you to die…"
"I won't die. And neither will you."
"I feel so guilty…" Tears slid down his cheeks. "I wish I were stronger…"
William wiped his eyes with his thumb. "You are, Your Highness. You're far stronger than you think."
"Does it hurt?"
"I'm fine for now. The poison hasn't acted through the bond yet."
"You can save yourself, right?"
"I'm afraid not. If you die, I die as well." William smiled at him. "So try to hold on, all right? I'm here to save you."
The prince managed a faint smile. "You're so beautiful… And I feel so tired…"
"Your Highness. Look at me." William lightly slapped him. "You must stay awake, do you understand? Talk to me. Tell me something."
"Something…" He drew a wheezing breath. "Do you think… my father hates me?"
"Of course not, Your Highness. Your father loves you as much as your mother does."
"Even if we always argue?"
"We argue too." William wiped vomit and blood from his chin. "But I don't hate you, nor did I when I first met you."
"Will, I… I've fallen in love with you."
William stiffened, then went back to cleaning his chin as though he hadn't heard those words. The prince gave a faint smile; his gaze had grown glassy, and tears and vomit smeared his face and lips.
"I read a story… about a red thread that bound the hearts of soulmates." A wheezing breath left his throat. "Will, I… I think I have that thread… around my heart, and you hold the other end. That's why… the Crown Pact…"
The prince closed his eyes and collapsed in on himself. William caught him by the shoulders.
"Your Highness? Your Highness!"
He gave him a few light slaps on the cheek, but got no reaction. He had fainted.
Panic sank its claws into his chest, and for a long moment, William stopped thinking. The only thing he could feel was the heaviness of that body and the wheezing of his breath.
A strange sickness slid through his limbs and twisted his stomach. At last, the poison had reached him too.
William clenched his jaw. He couldn't give in now. He was the only one who could save him; he would not allow pain and fear to overcome him. Not until the prince was out of danger.
He took a deep breath and stilled the irregular pounding of his heart. His senses returned all at once, and the terror receded.
"William!"
William grabbed the leaves Nikolas was holding out to him. He wove a spell and crumbled them into two glasses filled with water. He drained the first in a long swallow, then lifted the prince by the shoulders and gave him a few slaps to wake him, but got no response.
"Damn it," he hissed. There was no more time—he would have to resort to more drastic measures. "Your Highness, forgive me for this as well."
He pulled the dagger from the prince's side and drove it into his thigh, taking care not to strike any major arteries.
Alex's eyes flew open, and he drew a sharp, hissing breath, then sagged against William, coughing and spitting more blood.
"Have you lost your mind?!"
"Your Highness, you must stay awake. Can you swallow?"
"I don't know…"
"You have to try. If you don't drink, I can't counter the effects of the poison. My magic can't do much unless we remove the toxin first."
Terror flashed through the prince's gaze. "Will…"
"It's all right, I'm here with you. If you stay awake, I'll help you drink. But you absolutely must not lose consciousness, or you could suffocate. Do you think you can manage?"
He nodded, and William supported him by the shoulders. Then he took a small sip of the mixture and pressed his lips to the prince's to help him drink.
The prince gripped the back of his neck, his fingers were fire against William's skin, and drank from his mouth, one small swallow at a time.
He pulled away and coughed, his chest shaken by a spasm. William stroked his back to help him calm down, then took another small sip and pressed his lips to his again.
Drop by drop, he made him drink the entire mixture. Then he laid him back against the wall and stroked his injured leg. A magic circle took shape between his fingers as he closed the wound and stopped the bleeding.
"How do you feel?"
"Not as bad as before," the prince murmured. "Thank you."
"I only did my duty."
"And here I was hoping for something more romantic."
William flushed and hoped no one present noticed the redness. After that evening, it would be a miracle if no one whispered about how close and inappropriate his bond with the prince was.
"Will, you're all right, aren't you?"
He looked back at the prince and nodded. "Poisons and drugs seem to take longer to act than physical wounds. But if I hadn't intervened, you would have suffocated, and I would have followed shortly after."
"I'll be fine?"
"The mixture you drank removes the toxin; soon you won't have difficulty swallowing or breathing." He placed a hand on his chest and checked it. "You are strong—you will recover soon."
The prince let out a trembling breath. "Thank goodness…"
Then he took his wrist and pulled him close, so suddenly that William barely had time to widen his eyes.
"Thank goodness," he murmured against his ear. "If because of me… You had died, I…"
"Your Highness, I'm fine. You should think of yourself."
"Far too many people think of me already. But no one… thinks of you. I do. I will always do."
"You are still shaken—try to save your breath. You can worry about me after you have recovered."
"Stay with me… please… until I'm better."
"I—"
"Your Majesty!" The physician pushed his way through the crowd. "What happened?"
"Poisoning," the king replied.
"From what?"
"Blacktongue," said William. He moved away from the prince and squeezed one of his hands. "I made him vomit and administered a night bellflower preparation. The poison's effects should subside, but he needs treatment and rest."
The physician frowned. "By the spirits, boy, are you trying to do my job now as well?" He sighed and knelt before the prince. "Well, it's a real stroke of luck that you were present. It's a fairly fast-acting poison—I fear I would never have arrived in time."
"I tried to be as quick as possible. He seems better now, but he could have some internal bleeding."
"I see. Then you'll have to retrieve your grimoire to assist me." He turned toward the crowd. "Will someone help me carry His Highness to his chambers?" He cast a glance at William's leg. "And you come too, boy. That wound must be stitched before you faint from blood loss."
A pair of soldiers lifted the prince into their arms and carried him out of the hall. William followed, supported at the waist by the physician. The wound in his leg burned, and blood had soaked through his trousers, but the prince was safe—and for now, that was all that mattered.