Page 44 of The Faerie Morgana
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For two days, Morgana lay in her bed, barely moving. Braithe never left her side except to fetch fresh water and bowls of food she didn’t eat. She slept on the floor in Morgana’s chamber, rousing instantly if the priestess made any sound or moved a limb.
On the morning of the third day, Niamh came to the door. Her knock was so quiet Braithe didn’t hear it. Braithe, focused on trying to spoon a bit of broth between Morgana’s unresponsive lips, didn’t notice that the old priestess had come in until she was standing at the foot of the bed, her hands tucked into her long sleeves, gazing down at Morgana.
“What’s wrong with her?” she demanded.
“She’s ill,” Braithe said. She could never tell anyone Morgana’s secret. It would not help, and it would only cause more suspicion and distrust in the Temple if they knew.
“Ill.”
“Yes.”
“Looks half dead to me.”
Braithe dragged herself to her feet.
“You don’t look well yourself, Braithe.”
“I’m just tired.”
Niamh rocked on her toes, her eyes on Morgana, who did indeed lie as still as the dead. After a moment she turned to Braithe, who wavered on her feet, exhausted. “Better get Olfreth in here. Decide what’s wrong with her.”
Olfreth could be a problem, Braithe thought. If she decided to scry to discover what had brought Morgana to this state…
She said, “I think Joslyn might be a better choice, Priestess. She is so good at potions, and surely one of them—”
“Hmm. Not sure random potions are the answer here, Braithe.”
“They wouldn’t be random, Priestess. And Joslyn is the only one— That is, Priestess Joslyn is fond of Priestess Morgana.”
“Priestess Joslyn has not yet returned from the coronation.”
Braithe had forgotten that. “Someone else, then. But not Olfreth.”
“You think Olfreth doesn’t like Morgana?”
Braithe was too weary to be diplomatic. She gave Niamh a speaking look. “I know quite well she doesn’t. I expect you know that, too.”
Niamh’s wrinkled lips twitched slightly, but she didn’t admit to the truth of the observation. She said only, “Very well, Braithe. I will ask Sennet to come see to Priestess Morgana. But you—” She pointed her finger at Braithe and shook it. “You go to your bed. Sleep. Leave the priestess to us for the time being.”
“But I—”
“No arguments,” Niamh said with asperity. “You will be no good to her or to yourself if you collapse. Off with you.”
Reluctantly, though the idea of sleep was so inviting, Braithe backed out of the room, keeping her eyes on Morgana as she went. When she stepped out into the corridor, she saw Priestess Sennet hurrying toward her. Braithe would much have preferred Joslyn, but she thought Sennet would be kind enough. Morgana would be safe in her care.
Braithe, suddenly so weary she could barely stand, tottered off to her own little room and collapsed on her bed. The morning sun poured through the gauze curtain at her window, but it didn’t matter. She was asleep within moments.
She slept all through the day, not dreaming, not even rolling over. She woke briefly to eat the supper brought to her by Dafne, used her chamber pot, then slept again until the rising sun woke her. She climbed out of bed on sleep-stiffened legs and hobbled to the window, where she tried to revive herself with deep breaths of the cool morning air, noticing it had begun to smell faintly of autumn. Still groggy from her long sleep, Braithe splashed water from the basin over her face, and then over her body. It was shockingly cold, but she did it again and then again, until she began to come fully awake.
She was pulling her brown robe over her shift when someone knocked on her door. “Come in. I’m up.”
The door opened gingerly, and Priestess Sennet peered around it. “Braithe.” The priestess’s hair was tousled and her robe tied wrong. Her sigil hung crookedly from her neck. “Good, you’re dressed. You’d better come.”
As Braithe hurried after Sennet toward Morgana’s bedchamber, she asked, “What is it? Is the priestess all right? What has happened?”
Sennet said over her shoulder, “She’s all right, yes. You’ll see in a moment. No point in my telling you.”
