SIX YEARS EARLIER

"Have you ever known someone who died of Red Fever?" Heidel asked her friend.

Lady Ardith nodded. "One of my mother's maidservants. I was little... only five or six at the time." Ardith was now a slender girl of twelve, older than Heidel by almost a year. They sat beneath an old willow tree behind the castle, a basket of pastries tucked between them. Heidel had spent the morning baking gooseberry tarts in preparation for her friend's visit.

"Both of my parents died of Red Fever," Heidel said without emotion. She had never known her parents, and the king and queen who took their place had more than filled any void she might have felt. Truthfully, she seldom thought about it. "But I was just a baby. Do you remember what it looked like? The fever?"

Ardith leaned against the willow, long legs crossed as she daintily chewed on a tart. She had a round, sensitive face; her hair a shade between blonde and brown. "I remember her face became red, like a rose. And she sweat a lot. The servants tried to put her in bed, but before they even reached her room...." Ardith shut her eyes. "That's what frightens me most about Red Fever. It's so quick."

"I don't think it's scary." Heidel dug in the basket for another tart. Ardith was nibbling through her second but Heidel had demolished five and wasn't done yet. "I think it's interesting. If we understood how the fever works, perhaps we could stop it."

She finished her tart and stood, brushing crumbs off her pine green skirt. "Let's go in the forest and try to climb a Lumen tree! I want a piece of fruit."

Ardith shook her head. "Not now, please, I'm tired. I'd rather just talk."

Heidel flopped down again. "About what?"

Ardith sipped her goblet of water. She smiled shyly. "Who do you like better, Prince Eravis or Prince Gavin?"

Heidel groaned. She didn't know how this began, but her friends and some of her sisters – Coco especially – had suddenly become preoccupied with young gentlemen. Whereas Heidel thought of them the way she thought of bean soup: unpleasant but unavoidable.

"I hate Eravis," said Heidel. "He thinks he can beat me at anything."

"Well, can't he?" Ardith said teasingly. Heidel's cheeks began to simmer. She shouldn't have agreed to race Eravis down the Wending Way; she was never a swift runner. He'd reached the bottom of the hill a full minute before her, and laughed when she arrived, panting and stumbling.

Heidel jumped up again. "I just need to practice. Let's race around the castle, you and me!"

"Oh, Heidel, please!" Ardith grimaced. "I'm tired and it's too hot to run."

"Hot?" Heidel thought the weather was perfect, neither warm nor cold. And the willow's hood of long, lazy branches kept them well-shaded. But Ardith, who hadn't moved for half an hour, looked as if she'd been laboring under the sun, her face moist and red....

A thought fell on Heidel's mind. It dropped to her stomach like a swallowed stone, clunking against her insides. "Ardith... are you...?"

Ardith had set down her goblet of water and was rubbing her eyes. "My head hurts. I want to lie down."

"Let's go in," said Heidel, keeping her voice light. She helped Ardith to her feet. Hand-in-hand they walked back to the castle, Heidel beating off the thoughts that pecked like angry crows. It was nothing. Ardith's gown was too heavy, overheating her body. Or she'd been stung by some kind of insect. Many things could cause a face to redden.

When they passed through the castle's main doorway, Ardith's cheeks were cherry-red and she'd begun to whimper painfully. Heidel was about to send a servant to fetch the queen, when the queen herself came upon them. With her was Joc, the Royal Cook; a stout and sturdy man with thick arms and a wide smile.

Though the queen was not Heidel's mother by birth, a stranger could have been tricked to believe it. Both had autumn red hair and milky skin, though Heidel's cheeks were peppered with freckles. But the queen's figure was slender and graceful, qualities Heidel would never possess.

"Ardith isn't well, Mother," said Heidel. She didn't voice her suspicions, they were senseless and rash. She would tell Joc later and they'd laugh at her foolish fears.

But Joc stared at Ardith with rigid concern. His soft blue eyes turned to the queen and the look they shared filled Heidel with dread.

"Come, Lady Ardith," Joc said quietly. Ardith's hot hand slid out of Heidel's as Joc guided her down the corridor. Heidel began to follow but the queen caught her shoulders. "No, Heidel, no," her mother whispered. "You must keep away."

"What?" Heidel twisted out of her grasp. "She's my friend!" She started off again but the queen seized her arm. "She's ill, Heidel! It's too dangerous."

"Let go of me!" Heidel pushed off the queen and sprinted toward her friend. Joc was helping Ardith up a nearby staircase, his arm cradled beneath her honey-gold hair. She hunched against him, moaning as she climbed.

The queen shouted for the guards.

Before Heidel had even reached the staircase, they were upon her. It took three guards and twenty minutes to wrestle Heidel to her private chamber at the opposite end of the castle. By the time the guards departed, one suffered a bloody nose; another, three bright scratches above his left eyebrow. The largest was left to block the door until Heidel had 'composed herself'.

Heidel composed herself by throwing everything in her chamber at the opposite wall. When her strength gave out, she sat amidst the rubble, crying hot, angry tears. Her friend was ill. And she couldn't be with her.

An hour had passed when someone tapped on the door. Heidel looked up, expecting her mother. But it was Joc.

"Is Ardith better? May I go to her?" Heidel hurried toward him, tripping on the books and dolls and garments that littered the floor. Joc laid a hand on her shoulder. "Ardith cannot see you, Princess," he said with saddened eyes. "She died a few minutes ago."

A hard blade of pain split Heidel's chest. "No!" She shouted, shoving Joc back a step. "NO!"

Joc nodded and held out his arms. Heidel's rebellion crumpled and she fell against his chest, sobbing into the course weave of his tunic. Joc had served the Royal Family since the princesses were babies. He felt more like a father to Heidel than the king.

"I w-wanted to s-see her," said Heidel.

"'Course you did, Love." Joc stroked her hair with calloused fingers. "But your mother was afraid. She didn't want you catching it."

"It was Red Fever, wasn't it?" Heidel drew back to look at him. "I thought it might be."

Joc nodded.

"Why didn't you give her medicine!" Heidel shouted. Joc had medicine for every ailment Heidel had ever known. The queen summoned him whenever one of the princesses fell ill.

"I tried, Princess. But there is no medicine that cures Red Fever," said Joc.

Heidel glared at him, almost scornful. "Of course there is! You just haven't found it."