Her eyes fastened on him in the haze of afternoon sunlight. “Something’s happened?”
“You cried out.” Lanquette averted his eyes and removed his hand. “I thought it best to wake you, Your Highness.”
Luca sank back into the pillows, damp with sweat but feeling properly coherent for the first time in a day. She looked her guard in the eye and swelled with sudden gratitude. “Thank you, Lanquette.”
Her relief was short lived. The next day, while she recovered her strength with chicken broth and soft grains, a letter came from the compound with a young soldier wearing a scarf around his face. He left the letter and departed without a word.
That told them enough, even without opening the letter. The compound was suffering from some sort of outbreak, too.
Cantic’s handwriting was hasty: Soldiers ill. Rash, vomiting, death. Does not affect Qazāli prisoners. Using them to try to heal the others. Not helping much. Stay away.
Luca pieced the message together. It seemed like the soldiers had something similar to her and Touraine—except for the death. She was already starting to feel stronger. Was it only a matter of time before it got worse again? Was Touraine dead in the city somewhere? She exhaled sharply, irritated that she even cared.
Cantic was using Aranen and the others to heal the sick soldiers, or at least to help care for them, but there was nothing about how many had succumbed and how many had recovered.
Luca should have asked Aranen more about the sickness. Pride had kept Luca from sending for the priestess when she fell ill herself. Aranen had said Touraine’s illness wasn’t fatal, so she’d decided to let the disease run its course. Luca had been a fool to trust her.
There was one person she could trust who might know almost as much about Qazāli diseases, though.
“Lanquette?” Luca called. “Could you send a message to Bastien LeRoche? I need him to bring his books.”
The next day, Bastien LeRoche arrived at the town house, a satchel on his shoulder and his father’s young manservant laden with more books.
When they joined Luca in her upstairs office, he gestured toward Adile, who waited beyond the threshold for any requests, a scarf covering her entire face save her eyes.
“What—oh.” The young lord looked Luca up and down. His smile was warm and charming. “You have laughing pox.”
“It could be dangerous,” Luca said defensively. “Adile will bring you scarves and gloves to protect yourselves, and you should stay back.”
Bastien laughed and shook his head. “It’s not dangerous. I had it before. It’s common here. When I caught it, my father locked me in my room with only water and…” He trailed off. His face held the shadow of latent rage, but there was no sign of it in his voice. “Well, I didn’t die, so eventually he let me out again.”
Bastien’s eyes flicked toward the servant boy, Richard. “You’ve had it, too, haven’t you?”
“Yes, my lord,” Richard said softly. Then he bowed over the books to Luca. His slight shoulders were tight with the strain of the heavy books. “Your Highness.”
“Here, put those on the desk, please.” She gestured to Adile for coffee. Then she sat heavily in her chair.
“If it’s not dangerous, Bastien, why did I get a message from General Cantic about a new plague? She said soldiers are dying. Fever, rash, death.” She rolled up her sleeve to bare a patch of itchy red skin on her arm. “Why am I not dead yet?”
Bastien shook his head again. “I’m not a doctor, Luca, but this is definitely laughing pox. I don’t know what’s happening at the barracks, but it’s different.” He patted the stack of books Richard had just put down. “I take it that’s what we’re going to look for, then?”
She smiled, and he returned it with his own grin. Sky above, it felt good to be understood.
“Richard, can you read?” Luca asked the boy.
“Yes, Your Highness. I can help.” He bowed again.
“No. Take your ease. I have some books you might like downstairs. Fun books. Adventures. Adile will give you lunch and tea, whatever you need.”
Richard looked uncertainly between Luca and Bastien. When Bastien nodded, a hesitant smile curved the corners of the boy’s mouth.
After Adile led the boy down to Luca’s reading corner, Luca and Bastien got to work. It also felt good to do what she was best at.
They spent the afternoon picking through their collective texts, looking for records of a disease like the one at the compound, how it spread, and any known medicines. Luca didn’t know what it meant that the Qazāli prisoners weren’t helping much—did it mean that the healing magic was ineffective or that the prisoners were uncooperative or that there were just too many sick for the priests to cure?