“That wasterrible, Neris.”
“Ah, you love my Gruffud puns,” she says, flicking her blond curls over her shoulder playfully. She giggles as she gets back to measuring, positioning the paring knife against the ruler to cut the excess from the calfskin cover.
We continue working in focused silence. I slide a fresh ream of pages into the book block and set it upright to begin making careful cuts along what will become the spine. As I lift the small handsaw from my workbench, Neris calls to me in an odd, faraway voice. I glance up just as she sets her blade aside. There’s a recognizable dazed look on her face that makes my chest constrict. But before I can remind the stubborn woman to sit down, she staggers back and drops like a ragdoll out of sight.
“Shite,” I whisper, running across the room.
On the floor behind her workbench, Neris’s body is rigid as a corpse, her spectacles akilter on her face. Her limbs twitch in forewarning before the violent convulsions begin. My stomach flips as I drop to my knees, removing her spectacles and turning her onto her side. There’s nothing to do but to wait for the spasms to end, for my friend to come back to me, to breathe again.
Thank the stars the fit ends as quickly as it began, the color slowly creeping back into her face, her body going limp. I shift her, cradling her head in my lap as she drags in a heavy breath and releases it in an awkwardwhooshas if she’s forgotten how to breathe.
“It’s alright,” I croon as I smooth back her silky curls again and again. “Can you take another breath?” It’s hard to keep the plea out of my voice.
Her eyes are still closed, pale lashes fluttering against her bluish cheeks, but she inhales deeply again. I let out a sigh of relief, even as her saliva seeps into my dress, even as her head grows heavier in my lap. “Stay awake,” I say gently. I feel like the worst person to force her to remain awake after her body just betrayed her.
With a small moan she lifts a shaky hand to the corner of her mouth and wipes frothy dribble away. “Your dress…” she whinges. “I’m sorry.”
A small, humorless laugh escapes me. “Dammit, Neris, I don’t care about my dress.”
“It’s disgusting,” she mutters.
I stare at her in disbelief. At least she’s already more like herself. After a few minutes, she sits up with effort and presses a shaky hand to her head. With a sigh she pushes her hair back from her sweaty forehead and licks her lips a few times. She still looks slightly dazed.
“I’ll get you some water.”
She nods. I stand and set her spectacles down on the workstation before heading over to the pitcher and crystal on a nearby table. Neris sips the water slowly once I return. I observe her closely—the unsteadiness in her hands, the exhausted slump of her shoulders—while anxiety continues to hammer in my chest.
“It’s been a long time since that’s happened while taking the tonics,” I say.
She ignores me and continues sipping the water.
“Neris?” My lips tug down.
Her glass is clearly empty, but she continues to feign drinking.
“Neris!”
She jumps and lowers the drinking glass with shaky hands. “Alright, I stopped taking the tonics. Or rather, I started rationing it. To stretch it. I figured it was better than running out and being completely without.”
I open my mouth to shout at her, but she interrupts.
“You’re doing the exact same thing with your elixirs!”
My mouth snaps shut.
Things have changed a lot since the queen’s death was announced. For months, Radika has been having a harder and harder time replenishing her potions, medicines, and any magical contraband. I used to getat leastone month’s worth of my elixir with each visit. Now, I’m lucky if I get enough to last me a week, and I end up having to find more time to sneak out to Radika’s makeshift workshop on the outskirts of the city.
When I speak up again, my voice comes out flat as I try to remain calm. “You didn’t say you were running low.”
“You’re still adjusting to this arranged marriage, your father’s situation, the shortage of your own elixir … I didn’t want to add my own shit to that.”
“Well, you should’ve.”
She looks guilty but forces a smirk onto her face. “I’m running low?”
“Dammit, Reneris, now is not the time for jokes!”
She makes a face. “Ooh, you called me Reneris. You must be serious.”
