Igraine removed her hand from Isabella’s forehead. “Your body is having a negative reaction to the introduction of magic into your system. I told you this might happen, if you recall.”

  Isabella blinked up at her tiredly. She felt a general malaise, alongside a heaviness and fatigue that made it difficult to have the desire to do anything. Despite the fact she knew she should be preparing for the business plan of the auction house with Felix, she had spent the entirety of yesterday reading through a few of the spellbooks that Valerio had brought back. Now that the field of magic was open to her, she wanted to do nothing more than run across it freely… only for this to happen. Isabella had seldom been sick throughout her life, so this was an uncomfortable experience.

  “What can we do for her?” Valerio asked.

  “Nothing. Her body simply has to adapt,” Igraine said, rising to her feet. “Once it does, her symptoms will vanish as quickly as they came.”

  Isabella closed her eyes. Even amidst this, sleep felt a distant impossibility. Her mind was awake, but weighed down.

  “I’ll be back daily to check on her, ensure that nothing’s out of the ordinary,” Igraine said, walking toward the room’s exit. “You should ensure she’s well-nourished and hydrated. Beyond that, only time can cure her.”

  “I’ll do that, then,” Valerio promised. “Thank you.”

  “I should tell you, Isabella…” Igraine paused at the door, looking to have something to say. “Well, never mind. When you’re well, we’ll talk.”

  Isabella was too exhausted to focus on what Igraine was saying, and soon enough, the old woman left, leaving her alone with Valerio and Alice.

  “I’ll take excellent care of her, Your Grace,” Alice promised.

  “Valerio,” she said, then beckoned him closer.

  He walked up to sit on her bed. “Yes?”

  “We have to meet the archduke today,” she said drowsily. “About the business. Give me a special herb… that makes me better.”

  Valerio smiled, but quickly wiped the expression away with his hand. “What?”

  “You have everything,” Isabella said, slurring slightly. “Give me the special herb from a land with a name I can’t pronounce.”

  Valerio shared a glance with Alice, and then pulled the covers higher up over her body. “Rest. I’ll do the meeting with the archduke.”

  “Nuh uh,” Isabella shook her head. “Has to be me. Someone else might get it wrong.”

  “We won’t finalize anything without your approval,” Valerio said.

  Isabella was too tired to argue the point. “Promise?”

  “I promise,” Valerio confirmed.

  Isabella took a deep breath, hoping it was true.

  ***

  The days passed by very, very slowly for Isabella—painfully so. There was so much that she wanted to do, but there was very little that her body allowed her to do. She couldn’t even sleep through anything—all she could do was stare up at the ceiling, dreaming of things with her feverish mind. She felt uninhibited, almost drunk, and said quite a few things that she wouldn’t dream of normally.

  For instance, when Igraine was examining her body with magic one morning, Isabella asked, “Did you know my mother?”

  Igraine didn’t react overmuch, to her credit. “Why would I know your mother?” she asked, not removing her hand from Isabella’s forehead.

  “Because you’re old,” Isabella said.

  “Hmm.” Igraine nodded. “I am. Very insightful, Your Highness.”

  “Nobody seems to,” Isabella mused. “They just called her Candle, because she was queen as long as it takes for a candle to burn. But her name was Camilla. Candle Camilla.”

  Igraine silently carried on her task.

  “Everybody said Bernadetta looked like her,” Isabella continued. “Sometimes, when she did she my hair, I tried to imagine she was my mom.”

  “That’s nice. You’re close to this girl?” Igraine asked.

  Isabella went silent for a while. “I found out she never liked me,” she finally said. “Over a decade… and she hated me, always.”

  Igraine’s jaw clenched, but Isabella didn’t notice.

  “What’s a mother supposed to be like?” Isabella asked.

  “I’m far from a normal mother,” Igraine said with a shake of her head. “And I come from a lineage of similar parenting.”

  “I wish you were my mom,” Isabella said, and Igraine looked at her seriously. “Then I could’ve learned magic… and I’d be better than all of them… even Arthur.”

  Igraine chuckled. “I’m sure that those that lived beneath my roof would dissuade you from your wish. Arthur especially.”

  Isabella drifted off as Igraine looked after her kindly.

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  ***

  On the third night of this miserable magical malaise, Isabella sat in her bed listening to Valerio read. Valerio definitely didn’t need to do this, but he was. She wasn’t his child or his family, but he was doing this all the same. A question repeated in her mind again and again, making her lose focus of the words that he said. Her illness, for all its annoyances, gave her courage enough to ask a question that she’d left unspoken for a while now.

  “You don’t want this engagement to be temporary, do you?” Isabella asked, interrupting his reading.

  Valerio looked up at her. Ordinarily he sported a facetious smile, but right now he was as serious as ever. There were a few long moments of pause in which Isabella’s anxiousness made her stomach more disturbed than her malaise.

  “No, I don’t,” he said clearly.

  Isabella could only look down at her hands that fiddled with her bedsheets upon receiving that answer. “…and what if I don’t feel the same way?”

  There was a period of silence. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do,” he said. “Everyone that’s here is here because they want to be here. I’d very much like it if you wanted to be here. And that’s why I’m endeavoring to see that you enjoy your time here.”

  Isabella went silent for a while. She’d never had a real relationship with anyone. She did want to be a mother, but not if her child would lead the same life that she had. Leaving marriage open as an option was far more valuable to her than actually getting married. After the engagement with Albert, the notion made her largely uncomfortable. As for a relationship of passion? In the royal court, that was equivalent to inviting disaster upon oneself. No one could be trusted. But this…

  “I’m not saying that I don’t,” Isabella felt the need to clarify. “But… but I’m not saying that I do, either.”

  Valerio smiled, looking back to his book. He seemed content with her non-answer.

  “Are you putting on an act around me?” she continued. “Everyone I’ve met speaks of you as this monster. The Relazione paints a dark picture of you. You’ve killed hundreds. You were a pirate—you stole from others for personal gain.”

  Valerio shut the book and set it on her nightstand. “Somewhat, yes. I don’t want you to see me hurt others, because you might get this strange idea I could do the same to you. That’s a negative association I’m trying to avoid.” His dark eyes were honest and straightforward. “I wouldn’t hurt you—couldn’t, even. But I haven’t lied to you. Who I’ve been is who I am. Well… I am somewhat more… short-tempered, let’s say, elsewhere. You don’t need to see that.”

  Isabella thought that wasn’t entirely unreasonable. It wasn’t as though she was eager to see him shed blood, but… it was simply a side he kept divorced from his actions, so it aroused her curiosity.

  She looked at him. “Is there anything else I should know?”

  “I keep certain thoughts about you to myself, because I fear they might make you uncomfortable,” Valerio said. “Beyond that, nothing.”

  “What thoughts?”

  Valerio stood from his chair and sat on her bedside. “Today, it’s been difficult not to express how endearing you’ve been.”

  Isabella turned her head away from his gaze. “You like helpless sick things?”

  “No. I like knowing what you think,” Valerio said. “You always have such grace, such composure. But I’ll admit thinking you were quite adorable buried in blankets with a red nose, too. And I’ve always thought you were beyond beautiful.”

  Isabella looked at her hands in silence, thinking that Valerio might’ve been right about those thoughts making her uncomfortable. Alice and others had said as much before, but him voicing thoughts like that affected her much differently.

  “Ah, but it seems your fever is worsening,” Valerio teased. “Look how red you’ve grown.”

  Isabella fell back onto her bed. “I’m going to sleep,” she declared.

  ***

  “Her Highness is unwell. I ask that you not disturb her sleep,” came a muffled deep voice from beyond her room.

  “Unwell?” another voice said. “Likely story. Do you think I haven’t heard that excuse half a thousand times in my duties as an Inquisitor?”

  “Are you calling me a liar?” said a low, angry voice. Isabella assumed it belonged to Valerio. “Are willing to stake your tongue on that claim?”

  “Don’t threaten me, boy. The church retains the right to conduct an Inquisition on whoever it so pleases except the king himself. Are you claiming yourself to be the king?”

  “I know my law,” Valerio said firmly. “These Inquisitions need to have a justification. What’s yours?”

  “It has come to the attention of the church that you have no bishop within your realm. This is a grave, unacceptable error. One man alone cannot act as the shepherd of the faith. The Eternal Church must give guidance to the laymen. This, coupled with the royal princess’ unusually unchaste request to stay within your home before your marriage, is more than sufficient justification.”

  The double doors leading into Isabella’s room parted, and the Inquisitor walked in. Isabella looked at him weakly. She always felt the weakest in the mornings. She couldn’t make out many distinguishing features, but he wore white robes like most priests of the church.

  The Inquisitor looked at her with an expression of embarrassment for a passing moment when he saw she was ill, and then turned his head to Valerio with that expression wiped. “What have you been doing to Her Highness?” he asked accusatorily.

  Valerio briefly raised his hand up as if he was going to choke the life out of the Inquisitor, and a flash of fear passed through the priest’s face as he stepped back. Then, Valerio assumed his mask of calm and lowered his hand. “Illnesses happen everywhere. Even the king grows ill at times.”

  “Likely due to your poor hygiene,” the Inquisitor chided, and then looked around the room. “Look at this. You—"

  “Inquisitor,” came another voice from beyond the room. A few moments later, Knight-Commander Gaspar walked into the room, his hand on the pommel of the sword at his waist. “Leave.”

  “But—” the Inquisitor began.

  “Leave, while you still have all your teeth,” Gaspar said firmly. “I’ll be conducting this Inquisition.”

  The Inquisitor looked to have more to say, but upon seeing the determination in the knight-commander’s face, abruptly turned and walked out of the room.

  “I apologize for his discourtesy,” Gaspar said, looking between Valerio and Isabella. “The role of Inquisitor tends to attract small minded but ruthlessly diligent people that enjoy flaunting their authority.”

  “What’s this about an Inquisition?” Isabella asked, slurring her words slightly in her fatigue.

  Gaspar sighed deeply, and then looked at Isabella squarely. “I’m afraid that the archbishop has declared that you and Duke Valerio will be subject to an Inquisition to determine whether or not your faith remains true.” He gestured toward her. “I’m sorry to see that you’re unwell, but the archbishop has requested that for both of you to immediately report to his church to begin the Inquisition. Unfortunately, failure to comply means that the default judgment will be passed. Meaning… excommunication,” he said grimly.

  Isabella repeated the word in her head. Excommunication, with a penalty up to or including execution upon civil trial by the local authorities. In this case, the crown.

  “Very well,” Isabella said, mustering the whole of her willpower to think on this matter. “Leave me to get ready, and Valerio and I will attend the beginning of this Inquisition.”

  “Isabella—” Valerio began.

  “We must oblige the church,” she interrupted him. “After all, my family’s mandate to rule comes from the heavens alone.” She dipped her head. “Give me time to get ready. I won’t be long.”