SOPHIA

Velvetleaf didn’t have a hospital. But we had a Tilda. She opened the door to the three of us, bedraggled and exhausted, and ushered us inside. Nathan sent Hune to fetch a doctor while Tilda helped me change clothes and tucked me into her bed.

Her mattress was soft, and best of all, not made of hay.

The only doctor available was one that treated farm animals and the occasional human if the situation was bad. Hune hadn’t given the man much choice but to come with him. Dr. Murck sputtered and complained until he saw Nathan. Tall and strong as a mountain with an expression that might make even the emperor tremble at the knees.

According to Hune, most people trapped in the inn fire had made it out, but two kitchen workers had died, and three guests had severe burns.

Everyone else caught in the fire had suffered from breathing in too much smoke. Half of the inn had been destroyed by flames, and the whole thing might’ve burned to ash if not for the sudden downpour of rain.

"Her throat’s inflamed," said Dr. Murck. "Probably her lungs, too. Not much you can do about it, except wait for the body to heal. Problem will be keeping her from getting respiratory ailments. Pneumonia and such. Anything like that might well kill her."

"Well, aren’t you a ball of sunshine." Tilda patted my hand. "You can stay here until you feel better. But I don’t have room for Hunky Hunkerson and his sidekick."

"I’m Duke Nathan Stonehart," said Nathan flatly. "Not Hunky Hunkerson."

Tilda rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Hunky. You’ll have to bunk elsewhere because my little dress shop is not big enough for you or your friend."

"Hune is not a friend," stated Nathan. "He is ... well, a Hune."

"Hune is an everything kind of man," I explained to Tilda. "Don’t let Nathan’s grumpy demeanor sour your impression of him."

"Fascinating as it is to stand here and listen to you all yap, I have other patients to see," said the doctor, packing up his medical bag.

"More burn victims?" I asked.

"That and a sick sow. Oh, and a pregnant horse."

Nathan gave the man a bar of silver. "For your trouble."

Dr. Murck looked at the ingot in his hand and then at the Duke. "You need anything else, let me know. But you should probably take her to an expert doc. Though making the six-hour trek in this rain all the way to the Capital might not be the best move."

"What is the best move?" asked Tilda. She felt my forehead and frowned. "I think she has a fever."

Nathan felt my forehead, too. "You’re right. She has a fever."

"Probably got an infection, all right. I’ve seen it before in animals that survived barn fires."

"Hune, I sent Peril ahead, he should be around. Send him to Dunnie. Get the Scanderoon here as quickly as possible."

"What’s a Scanderoon?" I asked.

"Like a peddler," said Hune. "Only better. Probably."

"His elixirs helped us recover from the airship crash," said Nathan.

"I don’t remember taking his elixir." I looked at him, questioning.

"You did. But you didn’t know it." He rubbed the back of his neck and looked sheepish. "You didn’t remember me at the time, Sophia. I admit to being a little sneaky."

His embarassment was cute. "I can’t fault you for sending me benefits even when I didn’t know." I smiled at him. "I do feel a little tired, though."

"Why don’t you get some rest?" asked Tilda. "I’ll make you some chicken soup." She sighed. "I wish this world had antibiotics. That’s what I get for reading a romantic fantasy with a touch of steampunk."

"What is a steampunk?" asked Nathan.

"My ex-boyfriend," she said. "C’mon Hunky. You can help me make the soup."

***|***|***

SOPHIA

I woke up, my body hot, but also shivering. I pulled the blanket to my chin. I felt so uncomfortable. My skin felt like it was on fire. My insides felt like the winter cold. I was shivered so hard, my teeth clacked together.

My mouth felt like I had been chewing on cotton, and my throat hurt. Like someone had scrubbed it with a wire brush.

Taking a full breath was impossible. My chest felt heavy, almost too heavy to lift with a full breath.

"Water," I managed to croak. "Please. Water."

"Here, butterfly." Nathan entered the room and poured a glass of warm water from the bedside pitcher. He helped me sit up enough to drink from the glass. "Slowly," he said. "Take sips."

"I don’t feel good," I said.

"I know." He kissed my forehead. "You’re still burning up." Worry threaded through his words. He put the glass to my lips. "Here, drink a little more."

I did as he asked, but I didn’t want anymore water.

"Throat hurts."

"The chicken soup is almost done," said Nathan as he helped lay back down. He fluffled the pillow around my head and adjusted the blanket. I could tell he just need some way to care for me, no matter how small. Otherwise, he would just feel helpless.

For a powerful man who was used to bending the world to his will, he couldn’t fathom being defeated by something as mundane as a fever.

"Winner, winner, chicken dinner," said Tilda as she entered carrying a tray. It held a blue ceramic bowl and matching spoon, along with a white cloth napkin. "Chicken soup for the soul. And the body."

Once again, Nathan helped me. This time he put me into a full seated position. My teeth chattered. I still felt blazing hot, but also like I was going to freeze to death.

"I don’t know if I can eat it," I admitted. Nathan put the cloth napkin on my lap then took the bowl and spoon.

"Try, Sophia. Tilda made this with medicinal herbs."

"It’s all I had," she said from the foot of the bed. "I would kill to give you some ibuprofen or aspirin, but those kinds of meds aren’t available here."

"More things from your far, far, far away country?" I said, attempting a smile.

"Yes," she said.

"Come on, little butterfly," said Nathan as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Have some soup."