Chapter Twenty-Seven

“ B lood loss?” Léhiona asked the palace healer incredulously. She had finally relented to Sylvain’s pestering and was now certain it was a waste of time.

“Yes, your majesty. Your symptoms are what we would expect to see in someone experiencing blood loss; those we see with it most often are Sangviere who have pushed their magic too far,” the healer explained, maintaining his professional demeanor.

“But you see I am not bleeding. I have no scars or injuries. How do you suppose I am suffering from blood loss?”

“It is possible you have an internal injury that is bleeding, your majesty. Have you had any accidents lately? Any falls?”

“No, nothing of the sort,” she answered, confused.

The healer’s face showed a hint of concern then, and he considered for a moment. “I would suggest as much rest as possible for the next few weeks, as well as increased water intake and an iron supplement. We can check in then to see if your symptoms have improved at all. But please, your Majesty, if you notice anything at all amiss, please return right away or call us to your chambers.”

Léhiona nodded her understanding at the older man, and he turned to leave the small examination room.

Sylvain was waiting for her outside. “Were they able to prescribe anything for you?” He asked as they walked toward Léhiona’s sitting room.

She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to whisper, but she did. “They said I have symptoms of blood loss. Isn’t that bizarre? I have no injuries to speak of.”

He looked down at her as they walked, clearly sharing her confusion. “That was all they said? Blood loss? That is very strange indeed.”

“They said to rest and drink water and take an iron supplement—but honestly, blood loss? I can’t even remember the last time that I bled outside of my monthly cycle.”

An unsettled feeling took root in Léhiona’s mind that she couldn’t quite shake for the rest of the day.

That evening, she sat with a book, waiting for Aldith to come to bed. They hadn’t had much time together since the start of the festivities, and Léhiona wanted to talk with her wife about her strange visit to the healer.

The clock had just struck two in the morning when Aldith finally appeared.

“How was the party, my love?” Léhiona asked, setting aside her book and rising from the bed to cross to where Aldith stood removing her jewelry.

“It was alright, dear. How are you this evening? I am sorry you did not feel well enough to stay for longer.”

“Sylvain finally convinced me to go to the healer today,” Léhiona said, watching her wife in the mirror atop the small dressing table, where Aldith now sat.

Léhiona noticed Aldith’s shoulders tense ever so slightly at her words. “Well, what did they have to say?” Aldith asked, her tone light, but somehow more intense than usual.

“They said I have symptoms of blood loss, of all things! I told Sylvain, I can’t even remember the last time that I bled!” Léhiona said with a laugh. “I know you employ the best in Ichorna, but I must say I have my doubts.”

Aldith’s shoulders relaxed, and she turned to face Léhiona. “That does seem rather far-fetched. I’ll begin a search for a new healer.”

“Oh no, you don’t need to do that! I don’t mean to cost anyone their job. I am certain I’m just overtired and the healer was trying to humor me with a more serious diagnosis.”

“Inaccuracy, whether pandering or otherwise, is not something I will tolerate from those in my service. I will find us a new healer. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, my love,” Aldith’s tone brooked no objection. Léhiona knew not to argue; Aldith always said her input was valuable, but in reality, Aldith had the final say on everything in their lives.

“I am glad there is nothing really ailing you,” Aldith said as she slipped a nightgown over her head. “Now, come to bed?”

Léhiona quieted her thoughts and followed her wife to bed.