The Queen of Rhodia by Effie Calvin

Author:Effie Calvin [Calvin, Effie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: NineStar Press, LGBT, fantasy, pansexual, dragons, mages, magic users, family drama, new adult
Publisher: NineStar Press
Published: 2019-09-05T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

ADALE

When Esofi returned, she looked so unwell that Adale thought someone might have died. At the sight of her, Adale dropped the papers she’d been reading and leapt to her feet, but Esofi waved her away, saying she was only exhausted.

Nevertheless, Adale helped her to the sofa. Once seated, Esofi rested her head back and closed her eyes. “It’s just been a long day. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, just…” One of Esofi’s hands struggled, listlessly, with the clasp at her cloak, then appeared to give up and flopped down into her lap. “It’s so warm in here.”

“Let me help you,” Adale said. “Have you eaten yet? I’ll have someone bring us something.”

“I don’t think I’m hungry,” said Esofi, standing up partway so that Adale could pull her cloak free. Once it was done, she sank down onto the pillows again.

“Well, I am, so you may have the privilege of watching me eat.” Adale paused when this elicited no response. “Esofi?”

Esofi’s eyes stared blankly ahead at nothing.

“Esofi?” repeated Adale.

“It’s so warm in here,” mumbled Esofi.

Then she tilted forward and collapsed onto the floor.

Adale cried out in shock and lunged forward, struggling to lift Esofi off the floor. To her horror, Esofi’s skin was icy cold to the touch.

“Mireille!” Adale cried. “Lisette!”

But Lisette was gone. Adale clenched her hand into a fist and punched the floor in frustration. The door flew open, and Mireille and Svana both stared down at her in shock.

“I’ll—I’ll get a priest!” cried Mireille, bolting from the room immediately, stumbling over her own skirt in her haste. By contrast, Svana appeared as though she was still taking in the sight before her.

“Don’t just stand there!” snapped Adale.

“What do you want me to do, then?” Svana retorted.

Adale hesitated, realizing Svana had a point. But she would never admit that. “Help me get her up,” she said. “Onto the couch.”

It was not easy work, but by the time Mireille returned with a white-robed priest of Adranus, Esofi was laying on the couch instead of the carpet. Adale crouched beside her, one hand feeling desperately for the pulse in her neck.

“What happened?” asked the priest, coming to kneel by Adale. She shifted out of the way for him.

“I don’t know. She was sitting with me, and then she fainted.”

The priest did not respond immediately, but she could see white light already gathering at his hands. He pressed his fingers to Esofi’s forehead, then her neck, and then her stomach.

Adale was used to priests examining injuries, nodding, and recommending bed-rest or some other treatment. But this time, the priest did not nod.

“Send for an alchemist,” he said.

“What?” Adale’s stomach lurched. “Why? Can’t you heal her? Why do you need an alchemist?”

Instead of answering, the priest pulled a glass bottle from his bag. Adale watched as he removed the lid, which had a long glass rod protruding from the underside, not unlike a perfume bottle. He held it just below Esofi’s nose.

Esofi’s entire body shuddered, and she spat up an ugly yellow bile.

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