Queen's Light

Sickness

Crack of thunder, flash of lightning. She was awake.

Sweating, sitting straight up in her bed, panting as though she'd just taken a run halfway around the kingdom, but awake nonetheless. Rain relentlessly pelted her windows, while thunder reared its mighty head somewhere in the distance. She habitually reached for the small book on her bedside table, grabbing the short quill that rested beside it. She scratched down the scattered fragments of a dream.

Fire, endless fire. As far as the eye can see, from the topmost tower of the misfits' castle, the land is burning.

And I am helpless.

She tied the leather cord around the book once the ink had dried, putting it back in its place on the table. Standing, she pulled her dressing gown from her bedpost, meandering to the window, watching the rain pool against it.

Then she remembered.

The ring.

Earlier, when she'd been in the ballroom, Charles had stumbled upon her. He had given her a ring, one that was made to repel basic magics that he had gotten for her when she'd told him of her nightmares. She was riddled with almost childlike joy that he'd done something so meaningful for her even before she'd admitted her feelings to him, and now was beginning to see the logic behind his decision to do so. She'd left the ring on the desk in her office, just beyond her parlor.

She left her bedroom to fetch it, feeling its weight in her palm. It wasn't a spectacular ring, but even with her weak sense of magic, she could even feel the slightest hint of its enchantments. She slipped it over a finger, feeling that same rush of calamity she'd sensed when she had first put it on.

Normally, when she woke from a particular nasty nightmare, she would make herself a cup of tea and sit by the fire, perhaps reading a book or getting some of her work finished until morning came and she had an excuse to prepare for the next day. Now, she merely sat and read a few more pages of her favorite book of poems in bed before putting out her candle and returning to a significantly more blissful sleep.

She awoke the next morning at the sounds of birdsong outside her window. Blinking the sleep out of her bleary eyes, she pushed herself upright. Her maid, Marian, entered from the parlor carrying a tray, upon which sat a tea set.

"Good morning, milady," said Marian.

Rhiannon smiled. "Isn't it just, Marian?"

Marian set the tray down on a nearby table, pouring steaming water into a cup. "You seem quite chipper this morning, Your Majesty. Did you sleep well?"

Rhiannon shifted. "The best sleep I've had in years, it seems." She removed the ring and slipped it between the pages of her journal while the young maid's back was turned. It was best if the servants weren't gossiping about the arrival of a mysterious new ring, not while the rumors of her and Charles were still a topic of interest in the servants' quarters.

Marian handed over a teacup. "That's very good, milady. If you don't mind my saying so."

Rhiannon took the tea, taking a sip. "No, I don't mind at all."

Marian smiled, reorganizing the tray.

All of a sudden, the room pitched sideways. Rhiannon nearly spilled her tea, blinking at the sudden motion that seemed to come from within her. Marian took notice, bustling forward. "Is everything all right, milady?"

Rhiannon shoved the teacup into Marian's hands, gripping her bedsheets. "I felt...strangely dizzy there for a moment...I should be fine..."

Marian leaned forward, concerned. "You look rather pale, milady." She reached out and gently felt Rhiannon's face with the back of her hand. "You feel warm, as well. Perhaps I should call for the physician."

Rhiannon frowned. "I should be fine. I was fine last night."

Marian shrugged, striding across the room to reach the bell pulls that notified various servant divisions. She tugged on one. "That is usually how sicknesses come about. You'll be right as rain one day, and the next you feel near death."

Rhiannon set her head back against the pillow, the room slightly swaying around her. Her health wasn't exactly optimal, considering her past experiences with hallucinogens, but she hadn't been properly sick in at least a few years.

The physician came and went, leaving her confined to bedrest for at least a day or two, mainly on account of her fever. Marian was kind enough to bring a few of Rhiannon's favorite books into her bedroom, to give her something to do. The maids arranged to take turns periodically checking on her, mopping her brow and bringing food and water.

Rhiannon dreaded spending the entirety of the day as a prisoner to her bed, but even so, she didn't think she had the strength or the stability to be able to go about her normal day. She hoped someone would come by to visit, if only for a few moments, but didn't want to deliberately send for anyone.

She sighed, reaching for the poetry book she'd read the night before. It would be a long day.