Serina wonderland's Arc

Chapter 7 of 9

By midnight Cheshire's fever climbed. The girl thrashed on the flour sack and pushed the apron off her legs. Serina pressed a wet cloth to her forehead and felt the heat come back through the cotton in seconds. She checked her shelf: dried chamomile, willow bark she used for her own headaches, a jar of honey. Nothing that could break a fever this high. The apothecary two lanes over closed at sundown and would not open till morning. Cheshire's lips moved without sound. "Stay with me," Serina said. She wrung the cloth again. The child's cheek burned under her palm. The bell rattled. Serina jumped. Rose stood in the doorway in her red flower dress, wings folded tight against the cold. She sniffed once and looked at the girl on the sack. "Smelled the fever from the lane," Rose said. "Sweet. Wrong sweet." "I don't have anything for it," Serina said. Her voice cracked. "Everything's shut." Rose crossed to Cheshire and put two fingers on the girl's wrist. "Willow bark. Elderflower. Cold cloth on the feet, not the head." She looked up. "You have the bark?" "Yes. No elderflower." "I do. My pouch." Rose pulled a small cloth bundle from her dress and set it on the counter. "Brew both. Strong. Honey after, not before." Serina moved. She stoked the kettle, crushed the bark, tore the dried elderflower into the pot. Rose lifted Cheshire's feet onto a folded towel and wrapped them in a cold wet cloth. The girl whimpered and went still. "How do you know this?" Serina asked. "Mother had fevers," Rose said. "Every winter." They worked without talking. Serina strained the tea into a mug and cooled it with a spoon. Rose lifted Cheshire's head. Serina fed her the tea in small sips, one after another, waiting between each. Cheshire drank. She coughed. She drank again. An hour passed. The girl's forehead cooled under Serina's hand. Not gone, but softer. Her breathing lengthened. She turned on her side and slept a real sleep, not a sick one. Serina sat back on her heels. Her hands shook. "She'll wake hungry," Rose said. She pulled a chair to the sack and sat. "Go rest an hour. I'll watch." "You don't have to." "I know." Rose folded her wings against the chair. "Apprentice trial. Consider it that." Serina almost laughed. She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. "Then you're hired for the night." She stood and looked at the glass case. The hedgehog pastry sat under the cloth where she had left it, small and waiting. Two streets away, a blue door. She had promised today. Today was gone. But Cheshire would live, and the pastry was still whole, and morning would come. She pulled the note from her pocket and set it on the counter beside the case. Tomorrow she would carry both.