River nodded. It was wise, she thought, to have Jenson see her now, maybe give her something that would settle her stomach enough for her to eat. Quietly, Finlay left the room and River heard him give an order to a passing guard, telling him to call Jenson, before coming back inside.
Her illness was timed rather unfortunately, River thought, and she wished she could share her concerns with Finlay, but she didn’t want to tell the man anything that Archer might not want him to know. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him—quite the contrary. There was no one River trusted more than Finlay, since she had spent all her life around him and he knew him as well as she knew herself. But Archer wanted to keep everything about his condition a secret, and she had to respect that.
Of course, that also meant she had to suffer in silence.
“Daenae fash,” said Finlay, perhaps sensing that she had become even more upset. “The man will be here soon.”
“I’m alright,” River said, not for the first time that day. “It’s just…I have a lot in me mind.”
“Such as?”
River hesitated. “Och, I daenae ken. Perhaps this illness is makin’ me overthink everythin’.”
“Illnesses tend to do that,” said Finlay. “But ye come to terms with it in the end.”
River let out a humorless laugh. “Ye make it sound as if I’ll be like this for the rest of me life,” she said, and then suddenly, her eyes widened and her head snapped to the side to stare at him in horror. “Do ye think I’ll be like this for the rest of me life?”
“Nay, nay,” said Finlay with a soft snort, as if her terror amused him. “River, of course nae. Ye’ll be fine. The healer will ken what to do.”
I certainly hope so. If Jenson doesnae ken, who will?
For a while, she and Finlay sat there in silence, she in bed, staring at the ceiling as she tried to fight off the nausea, and Finlay pacing up and down the room until River feared she would wear off the wood on the floor. Then, River heard a knock on the door, followed by the sound of vaguely familiar, slow and unsteady footsteps as Jenson entered the room.
The old man was wearing his usual clothes, the scent of his concoctions and medicine clinging to the woolen vest he wore. He approached the bed with a soft hum, bent over as if burdened physically by the years he had been alive, his rheumy eyes staring curiously at River.
“Well, well…what seems to be the problem, me lady?”
“She’s nae eatin’,” said Finlay before she could speak. “She’s nauseous and she cannae get out of bed.”
“I see,” hummed Jenson. “And how long has she been like this?”
“A few days now,” said River. “It began very suddenly. I thought I must have eaten somethin’.”
“Nae one else has gotten ill,” said Jenson, which confirmed what River had thought. “Let us see…what other symptoms do ye have?”
The old man approached the bed even more, dragging a chair from the corner of the room closer to River. He plopped himself down on it with some difficulty, though despite his weakened appearance and his advanced years, he was more sprightly than people tended to think.
River hummed thoughtfully as she racked her brain for any clue that might reveal what it was that was plaguing her.
“Naethin’ specific,” she said with a small shrug. “Other than the nausea and the fatigue, I cannae think of anythin’ else.”
“May I?” Jenson asked, pointing at the covers that River had pulled over her. She nodded, and Jenson gently lifted them past her knees, his fingers gently pressing against her stomach. “Is there any discomfort?”
“Nae more than expected,” River said. “Only pressure.”
Jenson continued to poke and prod at her, asking her how she felt every now and then. In the end, he sat back in his seat and stared at her in silence for a long while.
Throughout it all, Finlay had been standing just over the man’s shoulder, watching him carefully, his gaze shifting back to River every now and then, as if to ensure she was still alright.
“Me lady…when was the last time ye had yer courses?” Jenson asked in the end, and River’s face heated immediately. She sputtered for a moment, her brain caught between trying to remember the date and trying to cover up for the fact while Finlay was there.
“River…answer the man,” Finlay barked, now suddenly much more serious.
“I…I…”
River faltered, not knowing what to say. Her gaze fell to her hands where they rested in her lap, and she tried very hard to remember when her monthlies had last come.
“I think it’s been a while,” she admitted in the end. “Over…over a month.”
