Berit squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, fighting to swallow down the jerking of her stomach.
“You are shaking.”
“I am fine,” she whispered, her voice breathy and tight.
“You had best go see the medicus.”
Berit shook her head. “No. I’m—”
“Not well.” Ignacio stooped to grip Berit’s arm and haul her to her feet. “And you’re keeping everyone else from training. Go. Sergius is in the infirmary.”
He gave her a shove toward the colonnade. She swayed and shot out a hand to balance.
“I will take her,” Adel growled, as if the girl’s weakness were the greatest nuisance. She dropped her gladius and gripped her cousin’s arm, dragging her to the edge of the ring.
“Everything’s moving,” Berit moaned in a low voice once they were away from the others. “I feel heavy, tired.”
“I know.” Her response was short. Clipped. Adel said nothing untilthey were in the coolness of the empty clinic, the door safely closed behind them. Felix was nowhere to be seen.
“Medicus?”
Adel helped Berit climb atop the high table, where she folded over, curling onto her side.
“My head.” Berit reached up, cradling her head in her hands.
Adel crossed to the infirmary and shoved the door open. “Medicus?”
Sergius had the good sense to look sheepish as he rolled to his feet and smoothed the blanket draped over the bed he’d been lying on. The embarrassment shifted quickly to a scowl.
“What do you want?”
“I need you.” Her voice lowered. “Something is wrong with Ber—Hippolyta.”
“Is she bleeding?”
“No.”
Sergius swore and grumbled beneath his breath aboutoverreactingas he shuffled into the clinic behind her. Inside, the elder medicus looked from Adel to Berit and back.
“You look terrible,” Sergius slurred.
“You are here for Berit. Her head hurts, she vomited, and she claims everything is moving.”
“Of course it is.” He peeled back her eyelids and peered at her eyes. “Did Ignacio bring her the nightly draught?”
A chill struck and sent her heart beating faster. So Sergius knew of it? She glanced at Berit. Would he administer more if not? “I think so.” Ignacio had not come to her room. But perhaps that was because Felix had already administered a draught of some sort in the clinic.
Berit groaned and wrapped her arms around her head as if someone was coming after her with a war hammer. “Water,” she croaked.
Adel scanned the room, but Sergius got to it first, nabbing a dirty cup from the counter and ramming it against Berit’s teeth.
Adel reached for it. “There is no need for roughness—”
Sergius spun and flung up his arm, preventing her from grabbing at the cup. “Do not presume to admonish me.” The venom lacing his words sent a shiver across her skin, followed by a rush of heat. He treated everyone with a cool indifference but had always reserved his dislike for Adel.
Sergius glared, lip curled. “Barbarian whore.”
Berit knocked the cup away from her mouth and pushed herself upright, spitting the water in Sergius’s face. His fist reared back and Adel caught it before he could swing.
