After five long minutes, the sounds of vomiting finally stopped.

The washroom door opened slowly. Garren walked back into the bedroom.

He looked absolutely terrible. His perfect blonde hair was a messy disaster. His coat was wrinkled. His face was pale and covered in cold sweat. His lips were still bright red and slightly swollen from the burn. He walked slowly, holding his stomach, looking completely drained of all his charming energy.

Camilla quickly uncrossed her arms. She hurried over to the wooden table.

"Oh, Garren," Camilla said, her voice sounding incredibly sympathetic. "You look so pale. You need to wash that horrible taste out of your mouth."

She picked up the crystal pitcher again. She poured another fresh glass of water. She walked over to Garren. She held the new glass out to him.

"Here," Camilla said softly. "Have this. I promise it is just cool, fresh water."

Garren looked at the glass cautiously. His throat was burning from the vomiting, and his mouth tasted terrible. He desperately needed something cold to drink. He slowly reached out his shaking hand and took the glass.

"Be careful," Camilla warned him, her voice sounding like a sweet angel. "Your throat is sensitive now. Don’t rush it."

Garren nodded weakly. He brought the glass to his swollen lips. Because he was so incredibly thirsty and desperate for relief, he ignored her warning. He tilted the glass up and started taking large, greedy gulps of the cold water.

Camilla watched the water go down his throat.

She prepared her second lesson.

She looked him right in the eye.

"I hope you don’t choke on it," Camilla spoke out loud, stating her jinx perfectly clearly in the quiet room.

In a matter of absolute seconds, the magical jinx triggered. It forced the opposite of her hope to become reality.

Garren was right in the middle of a large gulp. Suddenly, the water did not go down his throat into his stomach. The magic forced the liquid to aggressively enter the wrong pipe, flooding directly into his windpipe.

Garren stopped drinking instantly. His eyes shot wide open in pure terror.

He dropped the second crystal glass. It crashed onto the floor, shattering into pieces right next to the first one.

Crash!

Garren grabbed his own throat with both hands. He opened his mouth wide, trying to pull air into his lungs, but nothing happened.

The airway was completely blocked.

He let out a terrible, high-pitched, wet squeaking sound. He stumbled backward. He lost his balance completely and fell heavily to the floor.

Thud.

He began to thrash around wildly on the floorboards, kicking his legs. He held his throat tightly.

"Help me!" Garren managed to squeak out, his voice a tiny, desperate rasp of air.

Zade, sitting up in the bed, watched his friend fall to the floor. Zade was completely confused and absolutely terrified. He did not know what was going on. He just saw his friend drink water and suddenly start dying.

"Garren!" Zade shouted in panic. He tried to get out of bed, but his broken ribs flared with intense pain, forcing him to stay down.

Zade looked at Garren’s face. The young man was no longer pale. His face was rapidly turning a dark, terrifying shade of purple. The veins in his neck were bulging out. He was quickly losing oxygen. He was literally minutes away from being choked to death by a simple glass of water.

"Doctor!" Zade screamed at the top of his lungs, his voice shaking with pure terror. "Doctor! Somebody call the doctor! Help him! He’s dying!"

While Zade screamed in panic, Camilla did absolutely nothing.

She took a small step backward to avoid the broken glass. She stood perfectly still, her hands politely folded in front of her yellow dress. She looked down at Garren thrashing on the floor.

She watched him turn purple. Her eyes were completely cold and empty. She simply stood there, quietly observing the terrifying power of her own magic at work, waiting for him to die. It was a dark, eerie sight.

Hearing Zade’s desperate screams, the bedroom door flew open.

The family doctor, who had been resting in a guest room down the hall, rushed inside carrying his medical bag. Two maids followed right behind him.

The doctor saw Garren turning purple on the floor. He dropped his bag instantly. He rushed over, grabbed Garren from behind, and quickly performed a harsh, firm maneuver against his chest to force the blocked water out of his windpipe.

Garren coughed violently. A spray of water flew out of his mouth.

He fell forward onto his hands and knees, gasping loudly, greedily sucking huge breaths of fresh air into his burning lungs. He was crying, shaking violently, and completely traumatized by the sudden brush with death.

Camilla watched the doctor save him. She let out a very soft, internal sigh.

"Well," Camilla thought to herself, shrugging slightly. "He survived. But I think he has learned his lesson."

She decided her work here was completely finished.

Camilla walked calmly over to the table next to Zade’s bed. She picked up the empty ceramic soup bowl and the thick, insulated cloths. She neatly packed her things together.

She turned to her younger brother.

"I’m leaving now," Camilla said. Her voice was cheerful and completely normal, totally ignoring the sobbing, wet man on the floor. "I will be back to check up on you tomorrow."

She smiled warmly at Zade. "I’ll bring something else for you to eat. It seems Uncle Murry’s soup is a little bit too strong for your body right now."

Zade, still shaking from the terrifying chaos of the last ten minutes, looked at his sister. He nodded his head slowly.

"Yes, please," Zade replied weakly. "No more strong soup."

Camilla waved a polite goodbye to the doctor, completely ignored Garren coughing on the floor, and walked gracefully out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Zade lay back down on his pillows. He listened to his friend wheezing on the floor. He thought about everything that had happened today. He thought about his sister.

He remembered how she had fought for him in the tavern. He remembered how cold and calm she looked while Garren was choking. She was now strong, dangerous, and incredibly terrifying.

"But," Zade thought to himself, a new, determined frown forming behind his white bandages. "She is still married to that terrible Tyrant General. She is still trapped in that cold house."

He clenched his bruised fists under the blankets.

"When I have recovered fully," Zade promised himself in his mind. "I want to take you somewhere safe, sister. I have to find a way to stop you from being love-crazed over that General. You are too good for him now."