Millie reached for one of the roses tucked into the vase with the lilacs and held it in her palm. It balancedmid-air, and before my eyes, exploded into ash. The ashes gathered in her palm, and then slowly regrew from the ashes into a new rose.
“See?” Millie tucked the rose back into the jar. “Though I’d appreciate you keeping that little display quiet. Us Commoners aren’t supposed to do magic that doesn’t support acts of service. Though maybe this could be considered an act of service since it’s helping you to understand?”
Millie seemed like she was waiting for an actual reply.
“Oh, yes,” I said. “Yes, that was most definitely an act of service.”
“Great!” Millie’s relief at my easy agreement was palpable. “I can’t get written up again, or they’re going to yank me from duty for Mr. Silas. Granted, nobody else wants this position, but—”
“Why does nobody else want to work for him?” I asked. “And why—”
Millie inclined her head though, ignoring me in lieu of listening for something. “Someone’s coming.”
“How can you tell?”
“I suppose that’ll be Mr. Silas, probably sensing you’re awake.” Millie ignored my question. “He’ll want to have a conversation with you, I’m sure.”
“Good,” I retorted. “Because I want to have a conversation with him.”
“Eat your toast,” Millie insisted again. “You’ll need your strength.”
I finished my toast then took a sip of coffee. When a knock sounded on the door a few minutes later, I trailed along behind Millie to answer it.
The house was small, a true cottage, one level and about the size of a generous studio apartment in New York City. There was a small bedroom which I’d seen, a small kitchen, and a quaint seating area.
Millie pulled open the door before I could get a real sense of my surroundings. Sure enough, Silas was behind the door. But he wasn’t alone.
A woman hung in his arms, limp, her eyes glassy, her body still as if unconscious. Without warning, the woman jolted awake, a sound of pure terror coming from her mouth as she screamed nonsensical words, clutching at the shirt on Silas’s chest.
“What’s wrong with her?” I asked, stepping tentatively closer. “Is she ill?”
“You’re a doctor, aren’t you?” Silas said gruffly, all signs of the patient, tender man I’d witnessed at the altar gone. “Fix her.”
After several moments of stunned silence, I leapt into action. I was only in my first year of residency, but I’d gone through a lot of school, and I’d been surrounded by medicine for my whole life. My parents had prepped me to be a doctor since my first birthday. I’d gone to biology camps in kindergarten and had been involved in hospital internships since middle school.
“Set her down on the couch.” I gestured toward the purple sofa.
There was a lot of purple in here. I didn’t have time to focus on the décor, but it did really stick out.
As Silas gently laid the woman down, I froze. Her body unfolded, and I could see the bulge of her stomach.
“She’s pregnant,” I said. “She’s having a baby?”
“I suppose,” Silas said shortly. “But it’s more than that; she’s dying.”
“My name is Alessia, and I’m going to help you,” I told the woman, even though I wasn’t sure she could comprehend what I was saying. “I’m a doctor.” I glanced up, annoyed at Silas. “Don’t you have more experienced doctors here? Get help!”
“Not for this,” Silas said. “She needs medical help.”
“Right!” I nearly shouted. “That’s what doctors are for.”
“We have Healers,” Millie said. “Magical Healers.”
I would’ve rolled my eyes at their commitment to believing in magic, but I couldn’t waste more time.
“Get me boiling water, towels, anything you can find in this place that looks like a tool or medical equipment.” I quickly rattled off anything I could think of that might be helpful. “Now.”
“What’s your name?” I asked the woman as I heaped blankets on the floor. She was writhing too much to lay on the couch. “Let me help you down here, you’ll be more comfortable.”
