“Of course not!”I said, even as the same morbid thought crossed my mind.Good heavens.The consequences of Edmund’s death would be heavy indeed.I could already see the headlines:Son of the illustrious Mr.Walter de Clare MURDERED during visit to underground witch den!
I wiped my mouth with a napkin and rushed upstairs to Edmund’s room.It was nearly pitch black inside, save for the candle lit on his bedside table.Edmund’s face was pale, shrouded in shadow.Beads of sweat dotted his brow.His eyelids moved slightly at my entrance.
Seeing him this way felt oddly intimate—and terrifying.
“Edmund?”I asked, softly stepping into the room.“Are you alright?”
It was a stupid thing to ask.Of course he wasn’t alright.
“Water,” Edmund whispered hoarsely.
I fumbled for the pitcher at his bedside, nearly knocking over the candle in the process.I poured him a cup and awkwardly brought it to his lips.Edmund bent his chin to drink, but even that simple act seemed difficult for him.
Forgoing propriety, I pressed the back of my hand against his forehead.
“You have a fever,” I said, alarmed.
He only grunted.
I quickly poured more water into the small washbasin on the side and drenched a hand towel.As I pressed the damp towel to his forehead, I couldn’t help but think that I was severely underqualified for this job.I was a charmwitch who sewed ball gowns.Taking care of ill emissaries was entirely beyond my expertise!
“Rest,” I told Edmund.Another unhelpful comment.“I’ll get someone to help you.”
He didn’t respond.Either he was too tired or he was no longer conscious.
“Blazing fires,” I cursed.
Alexander set off shortly after I told him to fetch an herbwitch physician.Maddox sat in the parlor with Gio, who grew upset after I refused to tell him what happened.Children were notoriously loose-lipped—it’d be best if this turn of events was left secret to as many people as possible.
When the front door creaked open, Alexander entered with someone in tow.I started when I recognized Beatrice, wrapped in her usual brown shawl.
“Who’s sick?”Beatrice asked as she left her shoes by the door.“Is it Gio?”
I stood up, suppressing a groan.
Why did Alexander have to chooseBeatriceof all witches?Never mind that she was the closest herbwitch to us.The woman was nearly as big of a gossip as Ma, which made sense, since she wasfriendswith Ma.
“It’s someone else,” Alexander said to her sheepishly.
I shot him a glare.
He shrugged, as if we had no other choice but to expose the presence of a human stranger to a notoriously old-fashioned witch.
“Someone else?”Beatrice asked.“Who?”
I stepped in.“A friend of mine,” I said stiffly.“He’s visiting.”
Alexander opened his mouth to elaborate, but I cut him off.
“He’s upstairs, if you please,” I said, helping Beatrice with her kit of potions and remedies.
Beatrice looked bewildered as I ushered her up the stairs as fast as someone her age could go in the dark.
“A friend you say?”she asked, shuffling up the steps.“Is it that handsome blond fellow I saw through the windows yesterday?”
She was peeking through windows too.Just lovely.
“No, Beatrice, it’s someone else,” I said.We stopped before Edmund’s door again.“He has a burning fever and a fractured ankle.I don’t know what else is wrong with him, but please find out and fix it as soon as possible.”
