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Cedra
I fell into a restless slumber a little after midnight. Something was off—I could feel it in my bones. But I couldn’t figure out what it was, and it made me edgy. In the end, I dozed intermittently, half upright in bed, wishing the unsettling feeling would fade through the night.
I was awakened before dawn by a whisper of my name so low I would’ve missed it on any other occasion. I sat up straighter in bed, letting the sheets fall away.
I could just about make out Twyla’s form in the darkness, but something wasn’t right.
“Light, dim,” I called out and a soft glow descended over the bare bedroom.
Her eyes were red; that was what I noticed first. Had she been crying? Her arms were crossed over her chest, fingers digging into the flesh of her upper arms, leaving painful-looking indents in her skin. But worst of all—she was shaking. Not simple shivers like she was cold. No, she was shaking like she was in the depths of a fever.
My heart lurched—I’d known something was up on the ride back from the market! If only I’d checked in on her before bed. I wondered how long she’d been suffering in silence.
“I need some help,” she whispered.
I was out of bed in an instant, reaching for her. She pressed herself against my chest, breathing deep.
Her skin was hot—too hot even for a fever. It felt like she was burning from within. My heart constricted in panic as I tried to map the closest route to a medic.
“Let’s get you to a medic.” I tried to keep my voice as neutral as possible; I didn’t want to add to her panic.
She took a few hitching breaths against my chest.
“I don’t think a medic can help with what I have,” she murmured, slowly raising her eyes to mine.
This time, I did cup her cheek in my palm, stroking its puffy contours.
“What do you mean, ’mara?”
She shut her eyes for a second, swallowing slowly as though she was trying to rack up the nerve to tell me something. I just wished she would hurry up with it.
“It’s embarrassing,” she said finally, her voice so low I barely heard her in the quiet room.
“Shut your eyes, then. Shut your eyes and say it quickly.”
Say it before my mind comes up with dozens of ailments you could be dying from.
She shut her eyes again and burrowed her forehead into my chest.
“I think I have...the Heat.”
I drew back from her, my features in a mask of shock.
There was no way—no way at all that she could be in Heat. She wasn’t a Fanger, and Blood Heat usually affected female Fangers only—shouldn’t I be the one shivering and in pain?
On the surface, the symptoms seemed to match. Heated skin, extreme shivers, reddened eyes... But surely not.
I placed my thumb on her top lip and lifted it slightly to check for fangs, just as a mother would do to her newborn. Nothing.
“What are you doing?” Twyla’s voice was muffled behind my fingers.
“Only Fanger females develop Heat,” I explained, letting her lip drop. “I had to check.”
“I don’t know what’s happening, but all I know is that I can’t take it anymore.”
She shivered against me, her breaths merely hitching pants.
“What are your other symptoms, ’mara?”
