“This can’t be happening to you,” I grit out, my throat tightening as Kasmira’s coughing fit continues. “Not to any of you. Is anyone—have you lost anyone yet?”
Kasmira shakes her head. When she can, between coughs, she croaks, “Matter of time. Now do me a favor and get the blazes out of here.”
***
Kasmira and her crew aren’t the first to fall ill, but before the week is up the boatswain is the first to die, shortly followed by Dvora.
When the black fever rages, no one holds funerals for fear of spreading more sickness, so I don’t get to say goodbye or properly mourn her passing. The bodies of black fever victims are collected and buried without ceremony, though sometimes the process takes days, especially when the masked guards charged with carrying out the grim task are already exhausted and spread thin.
Corpses pile up in the Ashes, dumped outside of homes not out of anger, but desperation to save those fighting for their lives inside.
Valoria is hardly to be seen except occasionally at mealtimes; she’s constantly in meetings with her council and the palace healers. I’ve practically learned her schedule in my effort to see her, an effort that has yet to pay off.
Every day, when she receives the latest news over breakfast before her meetings, she asks the young messenger tonelessly, “Who died this time?” and listens, dry-eyed but shaking, to a list of names. The number of ravens she gets increases each day as the black fever begins to take hold outside of Grenwyr City, too, with scattered cases reported in villages from one of Karthia’s coasts to the other.
The volunteer soldiers remain in the city, but since Valoria forbids all visitors from entering the palace to protect us while the feverrages, morning practices are temporarily suspended. So is patrolling the cemeteries for signs of Shade-baiters, and so is Valoria’s next meeting with the rebel leader, Devran, though she writes him a long letter and frets when she doesn’t hear back right away. She was so sure he’d love her suggestion of appointing citizens to her council to help approve new changes to the city.
There’s not much to do now but sit and wait, and I’ve never been good at sitting still.
King Wylding used to throw even more parties than usual when the fever arrived, trying to keep people drunkenly distracted, but Valoria has decided against her council’s wishes that there will be no festivals until the danger has passed in order to combat the spread of sickness. As a result, young nobles—Valoria’s kin and those descended from long-dead friends of King Wylding—are more restless than usual, so they throw their own dances in the palace’s roomier common spaces and drink late into the night.
Meredy and I try attending one, but neither of us has any fun, especially not after receiving the news that Elibeth has taken ill with the fever recently. We’re much more comfortable passing the time in our room, though when we’re there, all we do is obsess over each other’s every sneeze and cough.
“This is kind of nice, in a way. Training being canceled,” I mutter, flopping down in the middle of our shared bed, still in my party dress. “I mean, I know how important it is, but... we’ve been so busy ever since we got back to Karthia. I missed seeing you in the light, and right beside me, not all the way across the training grounds.” I reach out a hand, beckoning Meredy to sit beside me.
She doesn’t notice, too busy pacing the room. I frown. We could be making the most of the time we have to spend together, and instead, she’s restless as a caged animal.
“Meredy, what’s on your mind?” I ask a little louder, hoping to draw her gaze.
“Oh!” She blinks at me, apparently startled. “I’m worried about Elibeth. She’s never had the strongest constitution...”
Of course. She’s afraid for her sister, and here I am being a selfish jerk.
“I hope to Vaia the fever doesn’t linger as long as usual,” I say firmly, hopping off the bed and going to Meredy to put my arms around her. “I’ve had enough of death to last lifetimes already. We both have.”
“I hope so, too,” Meredy says softly. “Though whether the fever stays around or not, I don’t think Vaia will have anything to do with it.” When I shoot her a questioning look, her cheeks flush. “I don’t think Vaia exists, or ever existed, for that matter,” she explains. “I mean, I’d like to believe there’s some powerful being looking out for all of us, but... if there really were a being as powerful as that, why wouldn’t they stop the black fever from killing anyone in the first place? Why would they have allowed Hadrien to make monsters?”
I shake my head, unable to answer her. I don’t usually think about Vaia as anything more than a vague idea, or ancient history. Definitely not as a part of our world. I shiver and rub my arms. What Meredy said makes sense. Too much sense, if I’m being honest. After all, it wasn’t Vaia that stopped Hadrien. It was me. Still, I have to hope she’s wrong, because if there was ever a time to have an all-powerful being on our side, it’s now.
“At least we have Valoria,” I say aloud. “With her brain, I bet she could outsmart Vaia. She’ll think of some way to stop the fever. I’m sure of it.”
Meredy smiles, absently rubbing her palms together. She winces slightly, her hands no doubt still sore from recent archery practices.“You should tellherthat, not me. I think she needs her friends right now, only...”
I nod. Meredy doesn’t need to finish her sentence for me to understand. Valoria has never been the best at asking for help when she needs it. It’s up to us to go to her.
I motion for Meredy to follow me.
“It’s deadly late,” she says, looking at me curiously as she pulls on a robe. “Where are we going at this hour?”
“To the kitchens.” I smile as I shut our door, leaving Nipper and Lysander slumbering inside. I’m pleased with my own brilliance for once. “Then we’re going up to Valoria’s tower for some mandatory fun.”
Meredy tilts her head in a way that’s almost catlike, distracting me into wanting to kiss her before we’ve even started our mission. “Can fun ever be mandatory?” she asks.
“It is tonight. And violators will be punished severely.”
Giggling, Meredy says near my ear, “Then don’t make breaking the rules sound so fun.”
Supplies in hand—a grapefruit chess pie, Valoria’s favorite, and two bottles of the elderflower wine Meredy and I love—we ascend the stairs to Valoria’s tall, lonely tower with the blessing of several guards who recognize us.
