She didn't know how it happened. She never knew how it happened. But it always produced the same result: fear.

Maelyn woke during the night with a sore throat, and worse—a hot face. She denied it. Tried to ignore it. Then she dropped out of bed and hurried to Heidel's room, her heart quaking the whole way.

Heidel answered promptly, though the hour was far past midnight. She pressed a hand to Maelyn's forehead and her mouth turned downward.

"Definitely a fever. Let's go." She accompanied Maelyn back to her room, where she instructed her to change into her thinnest nightdress. "No blankets. Keep your body cool. We don't know what it is yet."

Maelyn obeyed, already feeling a painful heaviness in her head. "Is my face red?" She asked as she lay back on her pillows.

Heidel leaned in with a candle and shook her head. "No, you look normal. But if your cheeks turn red, we'll start the cold water."

Maelyn closed her eyes, trying not to overthink. Being sick was bad enough. But even worse was the fear that accompanied it. Was it Red Fever? This thought came with every ailment that heated the face. A cold rock of fear lodged itself in the pit of her stomach and would stay there until she knew. It came whenever a family member caught something, too. She was well acquainted with that rock.

Heidel stayed the whole night, watching for that frightful moment when the face turned cherry red. Maelyn flopped in and out of sleep, sometimes drenched in sweat, other times shaking with cold. She wanted to know. She just wanted to know.

For three days, the question stayed unanswered. She felt wretched, unable to leave her bed. She drank the tonics and broths Heidel brought her and slept away the hours, using blankets only when the shivers took her. The rock in her stomach refused to budge, and when Maelyn vomited her broth, she was convinced her fear—not her ailment—had been the cause. Her symptoms didn't fully match those of Red Fever. But people had been fooled before.

She saw no one but Heidel, except for one night when Briette insisted on taking the watch so Heidel could sleep. Briette changed the cold compress on Maelyn's forehead at regular intervals, getting the cold water from their deepest well. It was important to keep the face cool. The other princesses stayed firmly away, probably nursing their own rocks of fear. No one ever took this lightly. As the saying went, if you hadn't lost a relative to Red Fever, it was because you were the dead relative.

But it wasn't Red Fever. Maelyn woke on the fourth day and knew she was improving. She was well enough to be vexed that she had lost three days in the throne room. Was three days closer to Uncle Jarrod's visit. So much time lost. But Heidel refused to let her leave her bed.

"Just rest! We don't want it coming back," Heidel said.

"Is anyone else sick?"

Heidel shook her head. "You can see them tomorrow. They've been worried, though."

"Were they?" Maelyn asked. Worried about her, or about catching the illness? She had her guesses, depending on which sister.

Heidel patted Maelyn's shoulder. Her long nights of caregiving had left her braid limp and ragged, her eyes underscored in shadows. "Of course they were. They love you. Now—anything else I can get you?"

"Oh... a book. Just grab anything in my library." A fresh new book would have felt like the best of medicines, just then. How could everything be so unfair?

"Sure! I'll bring you something." Heidel picked up the tray that had held Maelyn's breakfast. "But don't read too much! I want a good long nap out of you. Look—I opened your balcony door to let in some air. It's a beautiful summer. We've had a beautiful year, come to think of it. Gorgeous weather."

Very true. The spring had been lovely. But the words 'beautiful year' conjured a memory for Maelyn. Not forgotten. Just one she hadn't thought of in a while.

The beautiful year. A story Maelyn's father had liked to tell, and on rare occasions, her mother. Runa had not been a storyteller. That was Dellan's talent, and he'd enjoyed doing it. Maelyn remembered how he had told the story of the beautiful year.

Runa had left the palace one day in a state of great distress. She had taken her horse and galloped recklessly through Lumen Forest, taking no heed of the terrain. Something spooked the horse, who reared unexpectedly, throwing Runa from the saddle. She fell into a shallow brook laden with sharp stones and tumbled across them. She suffered a severe wound to her abdomen and broke one of her legs.

The fall nearly killed her. Even after the healers worked on her, she was confined to her bed, unable to walk. At nineteen years of age, Runa faced the possibility that she might never walk again. She grew weak and thin, losing interest in her life. A heavy sadness took hold of her, and she despaired of ever recovering.

In Grunwold, Prince Dellan heard a distorted report that she was dying. They had grown up as friends and the news frightened him. He traveled to Lumenera—as it was called in those days— and was permitted to see her. Runa greeted him with a beautiful smile and tears in her eyes.

After that, Dellan visited every day. They talked for hours. Read books together. Laughed and teased. Runa began to eat more and strength returned to her body. Learning to walk again was slow and painful, but Dellan stayed beside her, sometimes holding her when she cried. He said everything healed in that year, in a way that suggested he meant more than physical wounds.

When Runa walked again, they married. And though their marriage was a happy one, Dellan always said they were never closer than during that beautiful year of Runa's recovery. Runa said the same. The only shadow in that memory was that Runa believed the fall was the reason she could never have children.

Maelyn closed her eyes. So terribly sad—but the reason she was here now. She wished Willow would come and stay with her until she recovered. Then she chased the thought away. She sometimes wondered why her father had been allowed to visit Runa's bedchamber, a thing considered improper by almost any standards. Her injury must have excused it.

Dellan had loved telling that story. Only one thing about it puzzled Maelyn. The fall had been caused by Runa galloping through the forest in a state of distress. Yet Maelyn could never get her parents to tell her what had caused Runa's distress in the first place.