Page 26 of The Verdant Cage
I know why. It’s because she thinks I killed her gran.
A few months ago, she showed up at the back door of the Apothecary cottage. Gran had been upstairs in bed, and my family members were out on duties. I was the only Apothecary available.
“It’s my grandma,” Salvatora choked out. She was one of the prettiest girls in the village, as beautiful as Marina. She hadn’t made her dislike for me a secret since I’d ratted her out to the priest for stealing an altar cup when we were kids. “She’s not well.”
“What’re her symptoms?” I asked as Salvatora and I ran through the village.
“Fever,” my former classmate called over her shoulder. “A pretty bad one. She seems disoriented. Sore throat. Plus a rash across her back.”
My stomach kicked. The ban on lifesaving intervention for the elderly had just been announced. Palliative care only. But mental disorientation and a rash could mean many things, I told myself.
Right until I looked inside Amina’s mouth.
The back of her throat was speckled with white spots.
My worst fear was confirmed. Amina had strep, and—judging by her low blood pressure and high heart rate—had become septic. Because she was slipping in and out of consciousness as I examined her, I didn’t think she noticed when I realized how dire the situation was.
But she did.
Salvatora’s gran reached for my hand, fever making her touch oven hot. Her voice was barely a sigh, strangled by the swelling in her throat.
“It’s all right,” she said. “I’m proud to do my duty.”
“What is it?” Salvatora asked. She’d been bouncing from foot to foot at Amina’s bedside.
“Where’s your mom?” I asked.
“She’s at a fitting.” Fear etched Salvatora’s features. “The neighbor ran to find her, and I came to find you. Can you help my gran?”
I dragged in a breath. “I believe she’s septic. She needs antibiotics.”
“So give her some,” Salvatora demanded.
“She can’t,” Amina whispered. Her left side twitched. “Remember the new law.”
Salvatora’s eyes widened. She spun me and shoved her face close to mine until we were nose to nose. “You can heal her,” she hissed. “Do it.”
The image of my father’s mangled body jumped into my mind then, my mother’s words ringing as clear as if she was saying them directly into my ear.
It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have stood out.
She’d been training me to give the right answer—the only answer—when someone asked you to break the rules. “It’s forbidden,” I said.
But as the words left my mouth, I realized I could sooner cut off my own arm than not try to save Amina. My first duty to the Valley had been as an Apothecary. I couldn’t forsake it no matter what the law said. I shook free of Salvatora and grabbed my bag, rustling through it.
“You’re looking for something to ease her into death, aren’t you?” Salvatora snarled. “You dirty little rule follower! You can save her life and you’re not going to.”
I was barely listening. There were no antibiotics in my kit! We never had much on hand. Penicillin was time- and material-intensive for the Chemists to produce, so we reserved it for urgent cases. Amina’s certainly qualified. I snapped my case shut and remembered: Jonas had gone to the Chemists to restock our supply. Should I intercept him en route to the Chemist cottage, or would he be home already?
I made up my mind as I charged outside, indeed catching him crossing our stoop.
“The antibiotics!” I yelled.
Jonas’s expression shifted from surprised to happy to see me to alert, all in the matter of a second. He was Apothecary-trained, after all. He tossed me a vial before I reached him. I snatched it from the air and spun on my heel, racing back to the Cobbler cottage faster than I thought I could move.
But as I burst through the door, I saw I was too late.
Salvatora was flung across her grandmother’s body. I knew what an empty shell looked like, but I took the woman’s pulse just in case. She still burned with fever, but it had already begun to dissipate.
