Adrienne had handed the baby back to the nurse after her husband left. She’d wanted to put on a brave face for him, to let him know there wasn’t anything to worry about; she would be fine, she would recover, and they would be a happy family. But her energy had been drained by the simple act of holding her son. It felt as if her head were being split in two, and soon her son had been taken back to the wet nurse, a cold compress applied to her forehead, and she was left alone to sleep.

Glowing diagnostic spells hung over her like a golden mobile, intended to trill in case any of her vitals changed. Adrienne eyed the colored orbs, knowing each of them corresponded to something but unable to remember what her textbooks had told her. After trying had led to even more of a headache, she drifted off into a deep sleep.

When she awoke she knew that night had fallen by the simple fact that the healer’s post had been left. The diagnostic spells still whirred above her, slow and pulsing. This time, Adrienne was clear-headed enough to know that she was stabilized enough. The healer wouldn’t have left if she had been in any danger. Perhaps she was recovering then. Cash seemed to have such a worried look etched into his features, she hoped he was getting some rest too.

Adrienne had little time to do much else other than wiggle her hands free from the blanket because at that moment when she glanced to the window, a familiar silver head poked its way into her room followed by an even more familiar outfit (complete with the silver sword impaling his person). “Monsieur Wye,” she rasped, raising a hand in greeting; then squinted in doubt. “Am I hallucinating or is that truly you?”