After a sleepless night, Irenya pleaded illness. She hunched under the quilt and stared at a point beyond the oversized basket in Aeryl’s hands.
‘I ache all over. My stomach’s sore. Think I’ll stay in bed.’
The herbalist’s head appeared, level with the basket. Irenya was obliged to look her in the eye.
‘Hmmm,’ said Aeryl. ‘Peaky, for sure.’ She straightened and touched plump fingers to Irenya’s forehead. ‘Dry. No fever.’ Her untidy hair loomed in Irenya’s vision again. ‘Miserable outside. Meia is weeping fit to drown us all.’ She moved toward the door. ‘I am off to the herbarium. Leachim will be about. He can look in on you.’
Irenya held her breath and waited for the door to close, but Aeryl’s voice continued.
‘Today is a bath-house day and the pool will be heated, ladies in the after
