It would have been preferable to converse with Fermina for a while longer; regrettably, that was not to be. I reached out to catch her as she fainted, but despite my efforts, gravity was swifter, and there was cause of concern regarding injuries.

  Despite possessing basic medical knowledge, I would consult with an expert instead and yell for help. Thankfully, Rascal had not gone too far, heard me, and ran to fetch a servant to find a physician or Magister Thorban as fast as possible. Meanwhile, I learned that lifting another human being was a more taxing task than one would think.

  “‘I’ll ease her into it’, he says. ‘I will be gentle’, he says. Then the devil goes and scares my poor sister half to death!” Princess berated me internally, and I could not help but concede that she was entirely correct. Indeed, the situation could have been handled more delicately.

  We found ourselves pacing in the corridor just beyond the door. After recounting the events, we were promptly ejected by the mansion’s four physicians, whose duties had become notably sparse since my untimely demise. I comprehended the nature of my own frequent fainting spells; they were caused by an insufficient supply of blood reaching the brain, a direct result of my weakened heart and the ensuing hypotension. Though such episodes were all too familiar to me, it appeared that even someone like Fermina could experience this affliction under the strain of an especially shocking revelation.

  Given the circumstances, her reaction upon learning of my resurrection was entirely comprehensible. In the future, should the need arise to reveal our secret once again, it must be approached with a far greater measure of tact.

  Unable to disclose the full truth, I found myself unable to fully alleviate Rascal’s concerns as she stood beside me, anxiously awaiting news from the physicians. We were not alone; a small crowd had gathered, drawn by Rascal’s frantic dash and desperate pleas for help—an urgency that, regrettably, I had instigated.

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  Among those present were Lord Amaror, accompanied by his wife, and Lord Niyulgen, with whom I had previously engaged in a conversation regarding a painting he wished to commission. Kitaloran lingered in the shadows, conversing with no one; Lady Dossinet, whom I assumed had been at the praying circle, and Lady Drashta, a figure to whom I had only recently been introduced, also made their appearance. It seemed that these nobles had little else to occupy their time besides waiting for news outside a chamber door.

  At last, the door creaked open, and two men emerged. Their presence immediately drew us into a circle around them, and witsdih a practiced air designed to heighten anticipation, they maintained stern expressions, refusing to speak until all were silent.

  “Lady Fermina de Irchard has recovered from the episode. There is nothing to be concerned about,” announced the shorter of the two, Crescens de Lupelda—a dry, aloof man with a proud demeanor and a bald scalp, who had served as a court physician since before I was born. “She is to rest and is presently too weak to receive any visitors.”

  Whenever the physicians made such a proclamation outside my own quarters, it was usually because I had expressed a desire to avoid company; I surmised that this situation was not dissimilar. Having grown accustomed to my own fragile condition, Rascal wisely refrained from approaching Crescens to plead for an exception.

  Her grip on our sleeve tightened, yet we remained where we stood as the assembled crowd began to disperse. Two of the physicians departed, while the other two returned inside. The door to the sisters’ chamber remained firmly shut to us.

  “Come now, Riatna, let us find a more suitable place to wait. She is undoubtedly in capable hands,” I whispered softly to her, guiding her away. Fermina would need time.

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