Bog cough tended to crop up every year in the early summer after the floods, as the air grew warm and damp, and the dark, recessed levels of the city, far from sunlight, found their interiors blackened with mould.
The symptoms were a deep cough coming from low in the lungs, and an occasional rash. While mostly dangerous to children and the elderly, sometimes it would linger and transform into a virulent sickness that could sweep through the city like a plague. That was the ostensible reason why the upper levels of the city preferred to be restrictive with the lower sectors of the population.
Helena was familiar with the symptoms because her father used to treat it every summer. Most of the people who caught it couldn’t afford to travel up-city to a licensed apothecary. Helena could replicate the symptoms almost perfectly using vivimancy, creating purplish rashes on Lila’s inner wrists and the sides of her neck, and agitating her lungs enough to make her cough violently while Pace examined her and gave the diagnosis.
With so many people in tight quarters, plague was a constant fear.
Lila was promptly placed in isolation in the Alchemy Tower, and everyone else involved in the supply delivery was quarantined for three days until they were declared symptom-free.
Such a common sickness did not dampen morale, particularly since it was considered primarily an affliction of the poor and unsanitary. That Lila had caught it was taken as a sign that she was still too weak from her injuries. High in the sun-soaked rooms of the Alchemy Tower, she would recover.
Luc, however, was distraught. He demanded to see her, but he was flatly refused. His own lungs still showed signs of deterioration and damage; under no circumstances was he permitted to go anywhere near Lila.
Helena hardly knew where to begin with this new secret. Pregnancy was not something she’d ever studied. Her experience with newborns was mostly limited to emergency situations. She looked in the library for a few references but found the options lacking, until she remembered that Matron Pace kept most medical textbooks in the records office for easy access.
“I never thought I’d find you interested in pregnancy.” Matron Pace’s comment made Helena jump as she was caught hurriedly perusing one of the books.
Helena slammed it shut, cramming it into place. “I’m not. The title just caught my eye.”
“You’re welcome to borrow it.”
“No.” Helena shook her head. “Passing curiosity was all.”
She made for the door.
“Marino.” Pace’s voice was commanding.
Helena turned. Pace was watching her like a hawk.
“Are you in a family way?”
“No.”
“Accidents happen,” Pace said mildly, leaning back against her desk. “Especially during wartime. You wouldn’t be the first.”
Helena released an exploding little scoff. “I’m not pregnant.”
“I just hope your fellow is the responsible—”
“I can’t be pregnant. I’ve been sterilised,” Helena snapped, too mortified to keep listening.
Pace froze, shaking her head. “No. They wouldn’t. They couldn’t have possibly found that necessary at a time like this.”
Helena’s cheeks were burning, but her stomach had a gnawing pit inside it. “Well, they did. Maier did it. Ligature, same week I got back. It was—it was one of the Falcon’s conditions. So, like I said, not pregnant.”
She started again for the door.
“Helena, wait.” Pace’s voice was beseeching.
Helena winced, turning reluctantly back. Pace had one of her red, chapped hands pressed against her chest. “I shouldn’t have teased you. I had no idea. Maier never said anything.”
“It’s fine,” Helena said stiffly. “I wanted to be an alchemist more, and women don’t get to do both.” She lifted her chin. “Now I won’t ever have to worry about choosing. Besides—” She looked squarely at Pace. “—I’ll probably die young, so I’d be a terrible mother.”
Pace studied her. “Was your mother terrible?”
Pace couldn’t have hurt her more if she’d kicked her. The room swam.
Helena’s throat closed. “How dare you.”