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I puzzled over the relationship the Owl and the Ongahri had, seeing them spread out like decorative pieces on a chessboard, strategizing and circling around one another, while the people of Titus bulged in the middle.
It was then that my cramps began, as if a giant fist squeezed my lower abdomen, threatening to rip it out. I coiled around the pain, my chest curling into it.
It seemed the gods did not want me on a horse today.
Chapter 12
Sierra
“My lady, are you all right?” Demos’ voice held a note of alarm.
All I could do was nod, and even that movement was enough for the pain to intensify. If I just held very still, maybe it would help. But riding a horse, the swaying, the hard seat of the leather saddle, was making that possibility unlikely.
Demos pulled the reins, slowing us to a stop, and I felt the loss of his body molding mine. With a whimper, I was taken off the saddle and carried to the side of the path, still curled around myself. Demos didn’t bother trying to straighten me out, instead he laid me gently on the grass and onto my side. He brought over Argenis, tied her to a nearby tree, and I watched in panting agony as he began searching for something in his saddle bag.
The pain was white hot, searing me. It felt as though a metal rod had been shoved into that most sacred place belonging to a woman. I cursed, then bit my lips to stifle my cries.
“Here, drink.” Demos lifted my head gently and poured liquid into my mouth. My eyes clenched closed from the movement, but I drank every drop left in the glass vial.
“She will be all right. Just needs a moment or two,” Demos said loudly.
I realized he was speaking to someone other than me.
“What is wrong with her?”
It was Fadon’s voice, and he sounded livid.
I opened my eyes and saw that the whole envoy had stopped up ahead. Fadon and Jon, still mounted, looked down at me. In seconds, they were both kneeling beside me. Gods, could they move fast, I thought.
Fadon touched my cheek, cupping it. “She’s burning up. Jon, go get the watcher.”
I felt foolish. “I’m fine… just need to…” Another cramp, this one swelling up and up like waves against a shore, making me cry out. My stomach heaved and I prayed I wouldn’t vomit.
Fadon stood, calling out orders in his brisk way. Demos refused to leave my side, and I was surprised to realize his hand was on my lower back making firm, slow circles. Did he grow up with a house full of sisters? I thought stupidly. He knew exactly where the pain radiated out.
“My lady, I’m here.” Lucinda’s small hands touched me, and I could smell her talcum powder scent as she leaned closer. “Cramps again?”
I grunted a “yeah” and noticed my teeth chattering.
“Let’s get you into the coach—”
“We will go back to the camp,” Fadon commanded. “Demos, put her in the coach. My men have emptied it. Watcher, you’ll ride with me.”
The thought of moving made me close my eyes, which were burning with heat. The rain started, and the cold fat drips made me shiver. That horrible, unrelenting fist of pain was ebbing just a little, enough for me to even my breathing.
“Come, I’ve got you,” Demos said as he lifted me into his arms. “Lucinda, as soon as we get to camp, we will need some fresh water and cool cloths. I believe she’s fevered.
“Oh gods!” Lucinda said. “Maybe it was something she ate?”
“It is doubtful,” I heard Demos reply under his breath.
What did he mean by that? I wondered.
He laid me on a soft, furry surface inside the coach, just in time, too; the rain was pouring now, hard and furious. He covered me with something and left me.
Lucinda, soaked from the downpour, poked her head in and put her wet hand on my brow. I shivered violently.
“You are hot. Oh dear, I knew something awful was going to happen!”
