***
Korinna continued to feel lightheaded all day after Aeson left. At first, she thought it was only because her lips still tingled with his kiss, and her mind tended to drift to thinking of him instead of focusing on the task at hand. She tried to push her feelings aside and concentrate on everything she had to do to take care of her mother and the other sick patients in the manor.
But the next morning, she woke up feeling very disoriented and weak. With great effort, she climbed out of bed and dressed, but found herself out of breath by the time she’d finished. She had to sit and rest for just a minute, then began her usual routine.
By midmorning, she was breathing heavily and sweating from the effort to keep herself moving from one bedside to another as she brought fresh water to the parched patients. Dark spots swam before her eyes.
The blacksmith looked up from the patient he was tending and frowned at the sight of her. “You look pale,” he said gently. “Why don’t you go take a break for a little while? I can manage on my own for the rest of the morning.”
Korinna stood up too fast and found herself swaying on her feet. “I’m fine,” she protested, putting a hand out to catch her balance on the nearby bed.
The blacksmith came to her side and placed his hand on her forehead. “You’re burning up,” he exclaimed, grabbing hold of her before she could fall over. “I’m afraid you’ve got this sickness now, my lady. I will take you to bed.”
Korinna tried to resist but found herself too weak to do anything but stumble upstairs to her room and collapsed on her bed. So this was it, she managed to think as the blackness rushed up to claim her. Her fate was now in the hands of the gods.
She didn’t know how long she lay there in the grips of the sickness because time ceased to have any meaning for her. Sometimes, she was dimly aware of someone at her side, giving her water or broth that she couldn’t taste anyways. Other times, she seemed to lie alone in darkness for an eternity, her throat parched and her whole body aching with the pain. The fever burned her until she thought she would burst into flames, so she threw the blankets off of the bed; then she would shiver with cold, and struggle with the effort to find the blankets again, although they didn’t seem to do anything to warm her.
The worst part was the hallucinations, although she didn’t know if these came to her while she was asleep or awake. She saw twisted creatures climbing on the walls of her room and into her bed, raking her with sharp claws. In the dark, she could see their glowing red eyes watching her. When she closed her eyes in an effort to block them out, her ears were filled with the rustle of leather wings and high-pitched cries.
Once, she seemed to go to her window and looked out over the estate, only to see death and destruction. She saw vile monsters roaming in the fields, spiderwolves and gryphons, destroying crops and tearing apart the livestock. The wind carried the screams of her people and she turned to see their cottages in flames. Everything she loved was in ruin.
Korinna wanted to cry at the horrible sight, but she was so dry, her eyes only burned with the effort. She covered her face with her hands—then pulled her hands back in horror because she saw they had turned totally black, and she could not feel them. As she watched, her fingers began to crumble and fall off, the flesh long since dead. She collapsed in a heap and felt the rest of her body blackening, dying, turning to dust.
She wanted to beg for death to release her from this torment, but some stubborn part of her clung to life. In the back of her mind, she was dimly aware that she still had a duty: to her mother, to her people. Who was nursing her mother now that she was sick? And she didn’t want to give up on life while she was still so young before she’d experienced even a fraction of what the world had to offer.
She realized, in a moment of strange clarity, that she didn’t actually want to stay in Anoberesovo forever. The simple routine of the farm estate wasn’t enough for her to live for. She wanted to travel, to see lands that were different from her own, to have some excitement and new experiences. Her home was safe and comfortable, but she wanted…adventure. Whether the duke helped her to leave or not, she would find a way to go beyond the borders of her own village and seek the excitement she wanted.
The thought was surprising enough to make her sit up straight in the bed. Korinna had never asked herself what she wanted before. She’d lived with her mother’s hopes, her father’s promises, but she’d never stopped to consider if she wanted the things they expected of her. Could she make a choice for herself? If she looked for the opportunity, then—yes, she might be able to choose her own destiny. She didn’t know how she would find her own path, but for now, just knowing that she was looking for the way was enough to fill her with confidence.
Then Korinna realized that she was sitting up in bed and most of the pain had disappeared. She looked down at her body and saw no black spots on her skin, and everything still where it belonged. She became aware of a noise, and turned her head, but saw it was only the open window and the rain outside, with water running down off the roof. She felt a little weak and incredibly thirsty, but she didn’t burn with fever or feel dizzy.
There was a pitcher on the table beside her bed. Her hands shook as she poured herself a cup of water, but with effort, she was able to steady them. The water was so good. She drained the cup, then a second one, licking her lips to keep from wasting a single droplet. Her lips were dried and cracked, but when she ran her tongue across them, she felt no flesh missing. She brushed her fingers across her face and found the rest of it intact. Her vision of her flesh dying and breaking off must have been a nightmare.
Slowly, bracing herself against the bedpost to keep from falling, she got up from the bed. One of her work dresses was close by, tossed aside on a chair. She shook out the wrinkles and wrapped it around herself over her night shift. Her hair was a horrible mess of knots from lying in bed, and she didn’t have the energy to attempt combing it out, so she left it hanging in tangles down her shoulders. There would be time to make herself presentable later.
Keeping one hand lightly on the wall, Korinna made her way across the room and pushed open the door. The first few rooms and hallways that she roamed through were empty, with no more cots of sick patients, but every surface looked freshly scrubbed, so there were signs of life. She went on to her mother’s chambers at the other end of the building.
Pherenia’s door was open and no lamps were lit inside. By the dim light through the rain-soaked windows, Korinna saw the bed was empty, stripped down to the bare mattress. A horrible dread clenched her stomach, but she rationalized to herself that if her mother had recovered, she would want the room cleansed of all traces of the illness. An empty bed meant nothing.
She left her mother’s chambers and went back to search the rest of the manor. After she found the rest of the upper floor deserted, she was swaying at the top of the stairs, wondering if she could risk going down, when the healer came up the stairs and exclaimed in surprise.
“My lady!” Nysa cried out, rushing toward her with open arms to steady her. “You look much better. Would you like to come downstairs and eat a proper meal?”
Korinna smiled gratefully and nodded, not trusting her voice right away. The healer helped her down the stairs and brought her into the kitchens, where the cook was at work again over the hot stove. Both women threw together a meal for her in no time—soup, not broth, with chunks of real vegetables and meat, and a slice of bread to soak it up. The steam rising from the food felt amazing on Korinna’s face as she bent over the dish, and she paused for a moment with her eyes closed, breathing in the delicious smells.
She took a sip of water, then looked up at the others. She had questions that needed answers before she could eat. “You’re both here?” Her voice cracked from long disuse, but she cleared her throat and forced the words out. “Is the sickness over?”
Nysa smiled and patted Korinna’s hand. “It still lingers in a few houses, but the worst has passed, thank the gods. Your home wasn’t
needed as a quarantine area anymore, except for your rooms, of course. Now that you’re better, we’ll get them cleaned out and the rest of the household staff can come back here. We’ve all missed you.”
Korinna smiled faintly despite the strain on her cracked lips. It was such a relief to know that the village had come through the crisis at last. “And my mother?”
Nysa and the cook shared a look of sympathy that told Korinna all she needed to know. She looked down at her food again, feeling her returned strength draining away from her.
“How long?” she croaked out. All she could think of was that her mother had died alone, without Korinna at her side to ease her passing. When she got sick, she should have insisted on going to her mother’s room, instead of letting them put her in her own room. Even if she wasn’t aware of what was going on, she could have been there with Pherenia.
Nysa came to Korinna’s side and put her arms around her shoulders. “Three days,” she said sadly. “I’m so sorry. We never told her that you were sick, but I’m sure her spirit is glad now to know that you’ve pulled through. Not many did.”
Korinna closed her eyes and rested her head against the older woman’s chest. Tears would come later, but for now, she only felt numb. “Where is her body?”
“Cremated,” the healer said simply.
Korinna nodded, her eyes still closed. She knew that all of the others had been cremated within a day after they died, to keep the sickness from lingering, so she hadn’t expected them to wait for her for the funeral. She would mourn Pherenia in private.
Nysa held her for as long as Korinna wanted, then pushed the bowl of soup closer to her. “For now, concentrate on getting your strength back,” she said gently. “Myron will fill you in on the details in a few days when you’re fully recovered.”
Korinna nodded and forced herself to eat the food mechanically. There would be time to deal with her loss, and what it meant, on another day. Today it was enough just to be alive.
***
Korinna’s physical health came back quickly—an advantage of her youth, the healer said—and she met with her steward, Myron, to find out the state of the farm. The total number of deaths in Anoberesovo was over one hundred and fifty, more than third of their people, and those who remained were strained to pick up the slack. Weeds had overgrown several of the fields while they’d concentrated on tending the sick, burning the dead, and cleaning up the aftermath. Now that the Black Death had passed, everyone had to pitch in to save what they could of the crops.
She didn’t think about her mother’s death right away. She’d already been running the estate mostly by herself before the miasma appeared, so it wasn’t a big transition to taking over total authority of Anoberesovo, and the people accepted her leadership without comment.
More worrying was Aeson’s absence since the squire hadn’t been seen or heard from since taking Korinna’s letter to the capital. She feared that he had been struck down the sickness in the city and died without anyone knowing who he was, another anonymous victim in a population of tens of thousands.
But the week after Korinna had recovered, shouts rang out in the manor, saying that a runner had been spotted on the road to the south. Hope had crushed her before, but she went to the gates anyway, waiting to see what word came.
She recognized Aeson the moment she saw the broad shoulders and muscled legs. She ran out to meet him halfway up the road from the village, smiling for joy that he had returned.
He caught her in his arms, his own smile answering hers. “Korinna! Thank the gods that I can see you again.”
She kissed him warmly, not caring who saw them together. “You were gone so long, we feared the worst,” she said, looking up into his face. There no signs of illness on him, only the glow of health. “I felt guilty for letting you go.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, bowing his head. “I didn’t want to leave until I got a reply from the duke, and I’m afraid that he was too…preoccupied to accept your letter when I first arrived.”
Korinna heard the regret of bad news in his voice, but there was nothing else that could hurt her now. “Did he get sick?” she asked bluntly. “You don’t need to spare my feelings.”
Aeson shook his head. “No, but he couldn’t offer any help, either.” He loosened his embrace and reached into a pocket, pulling out a letter marked with the duke’s seal. “This explains it all, but the gist of it is the city had no resources to spare, and so on with the excuses. Also, there was sickness in his own family.” His arms tightened around her again. “His new wife died, and so did their son. I’m sorry.”
She felt only a faint twinge of regret at the news, nothing more. She tucked the letter away without opening it. “Thank you for trying.” She nodded toward the manor. “Would you like to come inside? Supper is almost ready, and I’m sure the others will be happy to see you back. I’ll send word for your family to join us tonight in welcoming you home. By the grace of the gods, none of them ever got sick, and the miasma is gone. We are safe again.”
He nodded happily, but he held her close and kissed her one last time, then kept one arm around her as they walked the rest of the way together. “I’m so happy that you’re safe, too,” he said warmly.
She shrugged. “I did get sick, but the gods spared me,” she admitted. “My mother was not so fortunate.” She could say the words aloud if she didn’t think about it too hard.
Aeson stopped in the middle of the path and wrapped his arms around her again, more tender this time. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head. “I wanted to do what I could to save her, but maybe I should have stayed here instead. You shouldn’t have had to face that alone.”
Korinna tipped her head back to look him in the eyes. “No, you did what you thought was best, and I thank you for your courage.” She reached up and touched his cheek. “And I’m glad to have you here with me, now.”
He took her face in his hands and smiled at her. “I’ll stay with you as long as you want me.”
She thought to herself that she didn’t know how long she’d have with Aeson, but she didn’t speak her worries aloud. After all, the duke’s son was dead, leaving her as his only heir once again. She didn’t know if he planned to take a third wife, or if he would go back to his original plan of having her marry the Warlord or someone else to let them inherit; she didn’t know if she would want to be with Aeson in the long term regardless of her father’s plans, since he was a guard-in-training with no ambition to leave Anoberesovo and she’d recently discovered her own desire to see more of the world. But for now, it made her happy to be with him, and his presence was a comfort after the loss of her mother. She’d enjoy her time with her first love and worry about her future on another day.
But he didn’t need to know everything she thought, and he didn’t ask about her plans for them, either. She let herself stay close to Aeson and enjoy his return that night, celebrating with his family and his friends in the guards.
When the evening was over and everyone had left, Korinna opened the duke’s letter alone in her room and skimmed the words. As Aeson had described, he said that there was nothing he could offer to help the village besides the healer and priest they already had. He wrote that he hoped Pherenia would recover and he wanted to see her after the sickness was over.
She cried then, curling up alone in her bed, for everyone who had died and the hurt they’d left behind for the people who were still alive. She cried for her mother never getting a chance at her happily ever after with her true love, and for her father, who would be heartbroken when he learned of Pherenia’s death. They should have been together, politics be damned. And she wept for the poor woman who had married Basileos as part of the political arrangement, to bear a son that died in infancy and lose her own life. Did she mean something to someone as a person instead of a political bargaining chip? Korinna would never get the chance to know her, or the half-brother who died too young. The gods could be cruel with Their choices.
She cried herself into a dreamless sleep.
***
Korinna commissioned a death mask for her mother from a local artist and set up a shrine in an alcove near the front door. Every morning and evening, she knelt with an offering of food, lit candles, and prayed to her mother’s spirit for guidance and comfort. She never got a response, never even sensed that Pherenia might be nearby watching over her, but she stuck to the routine. It gave her something to do, and gradually, even though the pain didn’t fade from her heart, she felt that she could at least accept the loss. The gods were cruel, but perhaps They had let her mother find peace in the afterlife. No sign o her mother’s ghost meant that she had no unfinished business left behind.
She managed to keep moving by throwing herself into work. Once the farm was tended and the survivors had recovered from the losses of the Black Death, she started looking forward to the future. She’d taken care of the daily routines of the estate; now, with Steward Myron’s guidance, she learned to plan for the long term. It turned out there was still a lot she didn’t know about how to manage a farm.
“But don’t worry,” Myron reassured her over supper one evening, kindly as if he were her own father. “When Pherenia first came here from the capital, she didn’t know how to do any of this, either. I was hired to teach her. Now I can pass that same knowledge on to you.”
Korinna smiled at him over the roast lamb and vegetables. Thank the gods that her mentor had been spared the recent illness because she didn’t know what she would do without him. “So really, you could run all of this yourself if I left it to you?” She was thinking about her dream, still lingering in the back of her mind, that she could leave Anoberesovo someday.
Myron chuckled and bowed his head humbly. “Yes, if my lady wished it, you wouldn’t have to lift a finger.” He reached out and ruffled her hair. “But it’s better if you learn this, too. I won’t always be around to guide you, and what’s the point in owning this estate if you don’t take charge of it? Your people wouldn’t see you as a leader, just someone living off the profits of their labor.”
The Duke's Daughter Page 4