There is a visitor who has requested an audience with me. They stated they could help, and I am curious to see where this meeting shall lead.
DE
Dear Rueben,
I am writing to you, as we both have mutual concerns with the prince’s behavior since the death of Cecilia La Flor. It is clearly evident that he does not intend on furthering the alliance in joining our bloodlines and prefers that we remain sideline to the conflict between Endovier and Amaris. I have a proposal to make of both you and the council in regards to our shared concerns. I’d be happy to discuss this in the chamber at nine tonight while the prince is busy with other matters.
Yours Truly,
Narcisa Marius Nicolae
N
Nineteen
“Iseverything alright?” Ayla asked.
We walked through town on our way to a house call she had received. A child had recently gotten sick, and according to Ayla, it was an illness that came on quickly and without mercy. The mother had broken down Ayla’s door this morning, begging for assistance, half crazed and fearful.
“The mother had seen into the eyes of death when she spoke of the little one,” Ayla stated shortly when I had arrived at the cottage that morning.
I was afraid of what we would find. “Didn’t sleep well, that’s all,” I lied.
I rubbed my arms, the thin cloak doing little to stave out the chill bite of winter. The dark trousers and thick blouse I wore were the warmer choice thanthe dress Ebony had insisted on. Although they did very little to keep the cold out. In comparison, Ayla dressed in a simple cloak, appearing to be warmer than I was. Ashen strands framed her oval face, ethereal and elegant among the townsfolk we passed. She shifted the brown leather bag, glass clinking together.
She raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Remind me later to send you back with lavender and chamomile.”
I nodded.
Since the snowfall, many people have shuttered themselves away into warm homes waiting for the winter to pass them by. The slush on the unpaved roads piled up with dirty snow prints guided us along the stretch of road through the center of town, while paths splintered off in different directions into alleys and to front doors.
“This is the sixth house visited this month. More specifically, the sixth case of a person exhibiting similar symptoms.”
“Is there an epidemic going on?” I asked.
“Perhaps,” Ayla hinted. “It’s imperative that we find the cause of the illness quickly.”
We climbed the steps to a rickety door, the hinges barely hanging on by the bolts. The street the house resided on was on a barely lit road, and the smell of decay hung heavy in the dingy air. Drunken voices came from farther down the road, men stumbling in the dark from a nearby tavern as they joked to one another about their work or women.
Ayla knocked lightly on the door and waited to the sound of stomping and voices answered. Thedoor swung open, and a frail woman appeared, dirt smeared across her face while her hair was wrapped up in a cloth covering her head.
The mother’s mouth trembled in greeting as she said, “Come in, she’s inside resting. Please come in.”
“When was the last time that she had anything to drink or eat?” Ayla asked.
“Two days ago, and she won’t take anything.”
“What treatments have you tried?”
“I gave her a tonic Bestia prescribed and even the blast herbal tea they sell at that pharmacy down Charlie Street. Nothing has worked to break her fever, and she hasn’t been awake for more than two minutes.” The mother glanced toward the child, who had barely stirred upon the entrance of guests.
“Why did you not come to me sooner?”
“I was afraid.” The woman sobbed into her hands, hiccupping with each breath. “I don’t have much to pay for a doctor. I barely have enough to cover the rent and even less for food. Please, I’m begging you. I cannot lose Dehlia.”
I stepped through the threshold and understood why Ayla had been worried. The living space was small. A bed was off in the corner of the room with a mattress laying on the ground nearby. The bed had the child curled up underneath mountains of blankets, her face flush from the fever and her breathing shallow. The area was sparse, neat but cramped with a table and chairs in the middle, dresser on the back wall, and the kitchen consisted of one counterand cabinet. It made me wonder how a single person could live here let alone a mother and a child.
Ayla emptied her bag, placing a white cloth onto the table and then placed the jars down. In total, there were about eighteen bottles of varying herbs and a single clear bottle to place whatever she made into. Ayla took out her mortar and pestle, as well as a bottle of syrup, its dark-chocolate-brown liquid sloshing in the bottle.
