“What is this?” the healer demanded.
Isla did not soften. “She is about to faint.”
“I am nae,” Ariella tried again, but her voice wavered.
The healer crossed the room in two steps and caught Ariella’s wrist, fingers pressing against the pulse.
“Ye are,” she said flatly. Then to Isla. “Sit her.”
Isla eased Ariella onto a stool, then stood with her arms crossed like a guard.
The healer studied Ariella’s face. “How long?”
Ariella tried to gather herself. “It is nothing. Just… a little weak.”
“How long,” the healer repeated, making it clear that “nothing” was not an acceptable answer.
Ariella’s lips parted. She exhaled, defeated by how little strength she had left for pride. “A week. Perhaps more.”
Isla made a sharp sound. “I told ye.”
Ariella shot her a look, but it held no bite.
The healer reached for a small bottle, uncorked it, and poured a dark tonic into a cup. The scent of bitter herbs rose immediately.
“Drink,” she ordered.
Ariella took the cup with both hands and drank. The bitterness made her eyes water.
“Now,” the healer said, “tell me. Have ye been sleeping?”
Ariella’s mouth tightened. “Some.”
The healer’s brows rose slightly. “Eating?”
“Yes,” Ariella lied, then sighed. “Nae much.”
The healer’s gaze sharpened. “Yer monthly courses?”
Ariella froze.
Isla’s expression shifted, subtle but immediate, as if her maid had suddenly understood something Ariella had been refusing to consider.
Ariella swallowed. “It… has nae come.”
The healer’s face did not change, but her eyes did. Something like confirmation settled there.
“How long?” the healer asked.
Ariella’s voice turned small despite herself. “Near two months.”
Isla’s hand flew to her mouth.
Ariella stared at the healer. “Nay.”
The healer tilted her head slightly. “Do ye feel sick in the mornings?”
Ariella’s mind spun back through days. The odd nausea when she woke. The way food had begun to taste too strong. The sudden dizziness that came in waves.
