The final preparations for the banquet are nearly finished. I go over the last rotation assignments one more time in my office, reviewing everything twice to be sure I didn’t miss anything. Every corridor has been accounted for, every guard has been briefed, every window lock tested, every exit covered.
I should feel accomplished, instead, my stomach churns. The sickness has returned in full force and I’ve barely eaten all day. Just the thought of food makes me sick to my stomach.
I try to shake it off like I always do, but this time it’s harder. The nausea is more persistent. I just need to get through the banquet and then I will see the healer.
When I pull on my uniform, the collar feels stiff against my neck. The fabric feels scratchy even though it hasn’t changed. I fasten the but
