'DESTINE,' CORNELIUS Quaint yelled, leaping from his horse. He ran straight for the fortune-teller's tent, ripped open the door and stepped inside-the antidote clutched in his hand at the ready. He stood in the open doorway, staring in disbelief at the sight laid before him. He shook his head, clamping his eyes shut to deny the image.
Destine's bed and tent were both completely empty. Quaint fell to his knees, exhausted beyond anything he had ever felt before. He noticed Destine's shawl, discarded on the ground, and he reached out to it. He scooped it up into his hands, and smothered his face into it as if he were trying to claw back a memory. The poison inside of him had abated now, the antidote miraculously conquering the effects just in time…for him anyway. As he looked forlornly around the empty tent it seemed that, despite his best efforts, he was now too late to save Destine. He cupped the shawl to his face, and smelt the familiar lavender perfume. She was gone. She was lost to him for ever and a part of him wished that he had died too. What was the point of all his struggle, all his sacrifice, if Destine were dead?
Just then Ruby Marstrand darted into the tent. 'Oh! It's you, Mr Quaint. I…I didn't know you were back. I just came to collect a few things.'
'Where is she?' demanded Quaint, rising to his feet swiftly.
'We thought Madame would be more comfortable inside the caravan,' Ruby said tearfully. 'She…she's so weak…I've never seen anyone in such agony.'
'Lead the way, child! We don't have one single second to waste.'
An elaborately decorated Romany caravan was parked up next to the Big Top tent, a single gas lamp flickering in the window, and Quaint sprinted quickly inside. Destine was laid out on the bed, her golden bracelet attached with its array of lucky charms twinkling in the stillness of the room. Her red-rimmed eyes went wide as she saw the imposing figure of Quaint enter.
'Madame,' Quaint said breathlessly, kneeling by her bedside. 'Drink this at once!'
With a great deal of effort, Destine's dry and cracked lips managed to take the liquid, and swallowed it down awkwardly. Quaint scanned her condition, praying that he'd reached her in time. He had remembered what Renard had said about the poison being augmented by water, and he'd topped up the remaining antidote with rainwater, wagering that perhaps that might work for the antidote too. If he had fought against the odds and survived, perhaps there was still hope for her.
Destine finished her painful swallowing, and Quaint lowered her back down onto the caravan's bed. Her eyelids flickered erratically, and her limp arm flopped onto the floor. Her energy was slipping away. Quaint picked up her hand and rested it upon her chest, kissing her cheek gently. Ruby shuffled closer to Quaint, her eyes raw with tears.
'Mr Q? Is…is she going to get better?'
'I don't know, Ruby…I really don't know,' Quaint said, a lump rising in his throat. 'We should let her get some rest and allow the antidote do its work.'
'She's put up such a fight so far, Mr Q…I only pray she can win the final battle. Things just wouldn't be the same without her.'
'Do not even contemplate it, Ruby. Madame has an effervescent spirit, and if anyone can survive such torment, it is she. I will pray for her,' Quaint said, as he rose to his feet, and walked outside into the freezing cold. He was numb, unable to feel even the slightest chill. As he stood at the caravan's door, he turned to look at the still form of Destine. 'Live, Madame. Fight!' he whispered. 'Now, more than ever…I need you.'