Hooves drummed against the ground, growing louder as they approached. The rider, clad in red, leaned down, concern etched on his face. "Your Highness, are you alright?"
I looked up at Thomas, confused. "Why is it you, Thomas? Where is the medic?"
Beau had taken the servants to fetch the medic. Why had Thomas returned instead?
My mind felt like overcooked oatmeal—thick and sluggish. The Thomas before me seemed to multiply, four or five identical figures staring at me with grave expressions. My head throbbed and my sinuses clogged. I felt as if I were submerged in thick, viscous fluid, even breathing becoming a struggle. A wave of chills washed over me, and I realized I must have a fever.
I shook my head, trying to regain focus. A cool touch against my forehead made me close my eyes in r
