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“I feel perfectly fine now,” Cassia said.
“Nothing more than a fainting spell,” the Semna concluded. “You are not adjusted to the strange climate and nocturnal schedule. You need less chill and more sleep.”
“It was Master Skleros’s smoke that made me ill.”
“Is that so?” the Semna asked. “Well, I do not wonder. Those foul vapors are disastrous to the constitution.”
“What a barbarian,” Pakhne said. “A chivalrous man would never subject ladies to such habits, especially when the cold has rendered our lungs vulnerable.”
“What does a necromancer smoke in such a thing?” Cassia pressed.
“The same vile weeds as any other man, my dear,” the Semna answered. “He may tout his fearsome reputation, but he too puts on his robes one sleeve at a time. There is nothing magical about his vices.”
It seemed only an ancient Imperial theramancer could fully understand his vices. Cassia said no more. She must think before she made accusations the Semna could not corroborate.
“Now then,” the Semna said, “you are not to touch your feet to the floor for the rest of the night. Whatever the cause of your swoon, you need rest.”
“Come, Semna.” Ariadne took her hand. “You need a moment to rest yourself after such use of your magic.”
The Semna sat back in her chair with a shaky breath. “I suppose a little nap wouldn’t be amiss.”
“Thank you for your care, Semna,” said Cassia. “I am sorry to have cost you so much effort.”
“Nonsense. That’s what I’m here for. I will return to check on you later.”
Men’s voices rumbled outside Cassia’s door. Only she saw Perita shoot a vicious glance in that direction. But then her friend smiled at the Kyrian mages and said nothing.
The panes rattled again. Everyone but Cassia jumped.
“These northern winds pierce my bones.” The Semna let her attendants help her out.
When the door opened, Cassia caught a glimpse of Callen standing guard in her sitting room. Benedict broke away from an argument with Lord Gaius. The door shut on his interrogation of the Semna as to Cassia’s condition.
Perita’s scowl returned. “A fainting spell, my arse. Not my lady! You don’t fall unless someone knocks you down.”
“I agree it is no coincidence I collapsed two steps from the mages.”
“Wisdom is just a fancy word for a suspicious mind, my grandmama always says.”
“There was something in the necromancer’s smoke, Perita. I mean it.”
Perita’s hand tightened on hers. “That corpsefly! He wanted to stop you causing trouble for Honored Master Prettyface.”
“Where are they now? I have to get up. The Hesperines are expecting us.”
Perita grimaced. “The mages already left to meet Elder Firstblood Kassandra at the docks. If their plan was to leave you on your back and the free lords in disarray so they can take charge, it’s working.”
“Then we must catch up with them.” Cassia threw aside the blankets. Light fabric. No straps. She had never felt so grateful to be able to simply move her legs and stand on her own two feet.
“Are you sure the Semna’s not right, my lady? Oughtn’t you to rest?” Perita reached to help her.
But Cassia had already snatched up her cloak and made it halfway to the door.
The moment she set foot in the sitting room, the men mobbed her as the crowd had tried to do in her vision.
Master Gorgos signed a glyph of Anthros over her. “Basilis, we lift up praises to the gods for your swift recovery. Thanks to the Semna’s intervention, the Hesperine artifacts’ influence upon you was short-lived.”
Cassia winced at the sting of Anthrian magic. “What can you mean? The fair gifts had nothing to do with why I fainted.”
