“Oh, thank the heavens ye’ve awakened,” Beatrice’s voice said, close and urgent.
Eloise turned her head slightly and saw her cousin seated beside the bed, clutching her hand tightly.
“What… what happened?” Eloise murmured, her voice weak.
Beatrice leaned closer. “Ye fainted in the garden,” she said. “Collapsed without warning.”
Eloise frowned faintly. “That is… very odd,” she said.
She pushed herself up slightly, but the motion sent a wave of dizziness crashing over her.
“Careful!” Beatrice exclaimed, quickly steadying her. “Lie back, ye poor thing.”
Eloise pressed a hand to her temple. “I feel… unwell,” she admitted. “Me head aches somethin' fierce.”
Beatrice hurried to pour water from a nearby pitcher, pressing the cup into her hands.
“Drink,” she urged.
Eloise obeyed, taking small sips as she tried to steady herself.
“Fiona has gone to fetch the castle healer,” Beatrice added anxiously. “They say he was tending to people in the village, but she’s sent word.”
Eloise nodded faintly. “It will pass,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction.
Beatrice shook her head. “Nay, I daenae like it,” she said. “Ye’ve been pale all day, and now this.”
Eloise gave a weak attempt at a smile. “I assure ye, I am nae so fragile as all that.”
“Aye, well, ye looked dead enough when ye hit the ground,” Beatrice muttered, though relief softened her tone.
Eloise let out a faint breath of laughter, then winced as her head throbbed again. “Perhaps I am more tired than I thought,” she said.
A knock sounded at the door, and both women turned. The door opened, and Fiona entered, followed by a broad-shouldered man with graying hair and a worn leather satchel.
“Miss Eloise,” Fiona said gently, “this is Orick, the healer.”
Orick inclined his head respectfully. “Let me see ye, Miss Eloise,” he said, stepping forward.
Beatrice immediately rose, hovering nearby with Fiona, as he set his satchel down.
“She fainted without warnin’,” Beatrice said quickly.
“And she’s pale, and dizzy, and says her head aches,” Fiona added.
Orick nodded calmly. “Aye, one thing at a time,” he said, placing a steady hand on Eloise’s forehead.
Eloise watched him warily. “It was naught,” she insisted softly. “Just a moment’s weakness.”
Orick hummed under his breath, unimpressed. “We’ll decide that soon enough,” he said. He checked examined her and studied her eyes carefully.
Beatrice wrung her hands. “Is she ill?” she asked.
“Has she caught somethin’? Should she be moved?” Fiona asked.
Orick glanced at them with mild patience. “Lasses, ye’ll have answers soon enough if ye give me a moment to think,” he said.
Beatrice flushed but nodded quickly.
