He bowed to the bed, backed from the room, then turned on his heel to face the guards and the clearly agitated handmaiden. “What’s this?” he demanded.
“Verice, Bearer of the Blood of Tethnar,” the faella was wringing her hands. “Your betrothed has taken ill. Violently ill. She drank her tea, and suddenly—”
“Take me to her,” Verice snapped, pushing through the guards. “Now.”
The handmaiden turned, and actually ran, telling Verice more than she ever could verbalize. He ran behind her, ignoring shocked looks and quiet protests of outrage as the serenity of the palace was broken.
It wasn’t far. Verice charged through the doors, and slid to a stop.
Faellas lined the side of the room, chairs and small tables abandoned. Queen Blesenthala was on her throne, her face pinched and tight. And Warna, his Warna—
—was on the floor, on her hands and knees, heaving violently. Evidence of her illness lay before her, stretching all the way to the tips of the Queen’s slippers.
“Warna,” Verice breathed.
She turned her head, giving him a miserable blank stare. Then her eyes focused, and she smiled weakly. “Verice.” She grimaced as he strode to her side. “No, Verice, don’t—”
The retching caught her again, and she turned away as her body was wracked with pain.
“Here, now,” Verice knelt down, heedless of the mess. He rubbed her back, offering what comfort he could. “What’s happened?”
“Your betrothed has taken ill,” Queen Blesenthala spoke, her face pinched. “Healers have been sent for and they will attend her.” She glanced at the doorway. “There was no need to send for you.”
“There was every need,” Verice said mildly, hoped that for her sake, the handmaiden had
disappeared into the crowd. “Warna, let me get you off the floor.”
“No,” she panted, letting her head hang down. She grabbed his wrist as if to prevent him and tapped the back of his hand three times with her finger.
Verice held his face still, keeping his anger behind a wall. Something then, something the Queen had done. He tapped his finger on Warna’s back, so she knew he understood. There were shards of teacups all around them, but no evidence of foodstuffs. The tea? His mind was working even as Warna succumbed to another round of horrible vomiting, her skirts now stained with urine and...his heart stopped.
There was blood seeping through her skirts.
Rage colored his vision red.
Warna spat to clear her mouth, then glanced at him, her eyes tinged red, her face covered in broken blood vessels. Her grip tightened on his wrist. “Verice,” she moaned. “Take me home.”
That startled him out of his anger.
Running footsteps, and a small cadre of mael and faella healers burst into the room. The foremost ran forward, reaching for Warna.
Warna reared back, seeking shelter in Verice’s arms.“No,”she warded off the healer’s hands. “Do not touch me.”
“Our healers are the finest,” Queen Blesenthala declared, but the healer only withdrew her hand, and knelt, seeming to take no offense.
“Lady, I am gifted in magical healing. Let me see to—”
“Have you ever healed a human?” Warna demanded, her voice hoarse and thick with pain. She pressed herself closer to Verice, and he tightened his arms around her.
“No, lady, but—”
“My lord and I anticipated our wedding vows,” Warna lied as loudly as her throat would let her. “I may bear his heir. Would you risk us both?”
No longer surprised by anything Warna said, Verice moved his hands, making sure the healer caught sight of the blood on Warna’s skirts.
The healer’s eyes widened, and she lowered her hand. “Your Majesty, it would be for the best if—”
“No,” Queen Blesenthala declared.
