The Island by Sarah M. Cradit

Author:Sarah M. Cradit [Cradit, Sarah M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sarah M. Cradit

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Dauphine awoke with Etienne at her side, but he was not the only man in her room.

Panic stole over her, as she first thought Childeric had come back, that he was there, but it was not the fiend. It was the doctor from Le Cap, the very same who had tended to Nan in her delirium.

“Ettie, what is going on?”

“Mon trésor,” Etienne began. His voice cut a low scratch in the quiet room, set to the doctor sorting the contents of his bag. “You have slept now for nine days.”

Nine days. “No, that is not possible. I have spent much of my time in bed, I know this, but I have still tended the household books and assigned the chores. I’ve been present at mealtimes.”

Etienne’s heavy hand laid at her brow. “No, Dauphine. You have not.”

Dauphine pressed herself forward in the bed, but was swaddled by her blankets and fell back against the pillow. She was too tired to struggle, and the spots before her eyes suggested perhaps too weak as well. Her eyes darted around for anything, any evidence that what he said could be refuted. Etienne and the doctor’s heavy silence filled in the blanks.

“It’s not possible,” she repeated, because it truly did not feel possible. Dauphine was the matriarch of her home, the head of her household. The goings-on of their estate simply did not happen without her organization and leadership. How had the maids known what to cook? Did dust accumulate on candlesticks and corner tables?

The doctor delicately began his examination. Dauphine was both disposed to slap him for his liberties and also eager herself to understand what had overcome her. Nine days? Her body was not capable of such things, and yet…

Etienne stroked her matted, greasy hair off her forehead. She needed a cloth and cold water, something with which to dab the sweat off her nose and cheeks. Off her neck. The air she breathed was clean and she filled her lungs hungrily. Where was the smoke?

The doctor rose and wiped his own brow. “I’ve concluded your wife is afflicted with ill humors, and a good bloodletting may resolve this. Weekly until she is returned to herself. I have some tonics you can administer in my absence.”

Etienne crossed the room with his arms over his chest. Facing the doors that opened to the outside portico, he said, “If this is the only way?”

“It is, Monsieur,” said the doctor, though Dauphine had a strong suspicion he was no surer of her diagnosis than he had been of Nanette’s.

Dauphine patiently endured the blade at the curve of her inner arm. The sharp sting as a surge of dark red blood rushed to the surface and poured into the small metal bowl. The blood reminded her of someone. Of someone…

She closed her eyes and surrendered to the wave of lightheaded euphoria that coursed through her.

She was not alone.

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