“It’s all right. We’ll try again later.”
He cleaned up, then wet a cloth and patted her mouth, cheeks, and forehead.
“Where are we?”
“Water mill,” he said. “The family living here must have fled. They took most of their things, but at least left the mattresses, some tools and pots. We’ve managed with less.”
“No, Idris, we can’t stay here. We’re wasting daylight.”
“Seraphina, you can’t travel. I need to get your fever down.”
“Briar… She and Rune must’ve already reached the convent.”
“We’ll find them there.”
“I don’t know her intentions. I need to…” She was interrupted by a coughing fit. “I need to get to him.”
“All right, then you have to hold down food. And medicine.”
She gave him a miserable look.
“You promise we’ll get going if I do?”
“Yes. Tomorrow.”
“Not tomorrow. Now.”
“There aren’t that many hours of daylight left, and Bramble is exhausted.”
“What do you mean? It’s morning.”
“Was.” He checked his pocket watch. “About six hours ago. The sun will set soon.”
“I was out for six hours?!”
“You needed rest. I used a Quietus Net to keep you from thrashing and waking up every five minutes.”
“Idris…” She covered her mouth with her hand. “Did I talk in my sleep?”
“Plenty. But I couldn’t make heads or tails of what you were saying.”
She vaguely remembered the nightmares. They were the same, plaguing her on repeat. They couldn’t be helped. Using the immense power of the thrall relic meant embracing the misery that came after. She deserved to feel the effects of her own manipulation, of the anguish she inflicted.
Idris helped her sit upright, with her back to the headboard.
“You’ll breathe better this way,” he said. “I’ll prepare something for the cough.”
She nodded and watched him get busy measuring herbs from various jars into a pot and setting it on the hearth. He’d boiled water already, in a different pot, and he poured a generous amount into a tin bowl, added a few dry sprigs of mint and thyme, and handed it to her.
“Breathe the steam in.”
She held the bowl close to her nose and mouth, bending over it. A few minutes later, the congestion in her head eased. She didn’t know much about medicine, but she wasn’t entirely clueless. An inflammation of the lungs could kill someone, and quickly. If Idris said she couldn’t travel, maybe it was smart to listen to him.
“I need you to open your dress a little. Only the top buttons.”
She returned the bowl to him and did as she was told. Idris placed a poultice on her chest, made of hardtack and water, wrapped in a linen cloth. It was so hot that it almost blistered her skin. When the tea was ready, he passed her a cup. She tasted thyme and licorice root. It was sweet.
“Did you add honey to this?” she asked.
