Fever Quest: A Clean Historical Mystery set in England and India (The Isabella Rockwell Trilogy Book 2) by Hannah Parry Read Free Book Online

lain staring at
the ceiling of her room. The mosquito net made everything look hazy and
indistinct. She was dry-eyed and fearful. If she went to sleep she would have
to wake again to a reality she didn’t think she could bear. Or was she asleep
already? Isabella couldn’t tell. She knew Abhaya had plundered her store of
healing herbs for something to help with her shock, but the medicine hadn’t
worked. All she could see was her father’s body, blasted by the heat, flies at
his nose and mouth, like the corpse she’d come across unexpectedly one day,
half hidden in the blond grasses by the road into town.
    Now, with her cheeks crushed against the soft fabrics in
her cabin wardrobe, Isabella closed her eyes tightly so the image was banished,
but it never seemed to stay away. The picture would always return. Maybe once
she found her father it would disappear for good.
    She knew how selfish she must sound to Midge, but she was
so tired of trailing all over the world, looking out for people who had nothing
to do with her. She’d saved the heir to the throne of England! Wasn’t that enough?
    Inwardly she cursed ever having met Al Hassan. Cursed him
for having put her in this position.
    The bed squeaked as Midge stood up and came to stand next
to her in front of the open wardrobe.
    “Iz? You’d be doing this for Al Hassan.” His face was
innocent and open and he spoke from his heart.
    “No, Midge. This time, I’m going to do something for me. I will take the package to the mysterious Mother Muckerjee, but after I’ve
found Papa. I owe it to my father. Dead or alive.”
    But Midge’s face was cold and he practically spat the
words out at her.
    “And what about what we owe Al Hassan, or have you
forgotten about that too? I mean it, Iz. You’re making a huge mistake. I’m
gonna show you how wrong you are – just you watch.”
    The pictures on the wall rattled as he slammed the door.
    Isabella let him go. He’d calm down. He was just worried.
He was so far from home, it was understandable, but he didn’t know what it was
like to have a parent he couldn’t find.
    She sat on the white cotton coverlet and undid the
package. The brown paper was rough under her fingers, the corners of it frayed,
as if it had been carried tightly tucked away over a great distance. Isabella
undid the knotted string and carefully opened the paper. Two smaller packages
were inside and she opened one to find a pile of grey dust, a bit like the iron
filings Isabella remembered from the schoolroom when she’d learnt about
magnets. This dust was more like sand in its consistency and it was a lighter
grey. There must have been five tablespoons’ worth and the curious thing about
it was that, as she moved the paper back and forth, the granules clumped
together. She put a fingertip in it, and it broke up into particles again.
Isabella peered down at it and then held the paper up to the light coming from
outside. When she moved the paper from side to side she could see light
reflected off the granules, little sparkles waving back and forth. She turned
to the other packet, undoing it with shaking fingers, but all it held were nine
grey seeds the size and shape of almonds. Isabella sniffed them, but all she
could smell was dry paper.
    How very strange.
    She took out Abhaya’s old formulary, her notebook filled
with drawings and markings about plants, but there was nothing that resembled
what she looked at now. Though she’d known that before she started.
    She knew that book off by heart.
    Isabella rolled up both the packets into one and put it in
her pocket. It would be best if she kept it with her for the time being. It
didn’t matter that she didn’t know what it was. All Al Hassan had asked was
that she deliver it. Nothing more. She had to find her father, either dead or
alive. She was too close now to give up. Then she’d deliver the packet. Al
Hassan himself would understand.
    She checked her appearance in the mirror and
hurried