“No! It’s too early, I’m not doing it.”

Sophia was incensed and this was exactly why they were doing ‘it’ now before things got worse, but Carwyn would not tell her that. That would only make things worse.

“Darling,” he said, carefully, gently. “I promise I would not have suggested it unless I thought it was a good idea.”

They were in the bathroom because that was where Sophia locked herself away when she heard the news. Only she had forgotten to actually lock the door. Now she was laying on the floor, hair splayed across the tiles and pajamas sticking to her sweaty skin while Carwyn sat on the lip of the tub, elbows on his knees and hands clasped as though waiting or resting after a very long walk. It was just past 6:30 in the morning and he really needed to get to work.

“It’s hardly been four weeks. I’m coherent. I usually last at least eight. Are you trying to kill me?”

This last bit came out in a voice so guttural it hardly sounded like her anymore. The accusations, while not unusual, were never a good sign. It might already be too late to avoid a meltdown this time around.

“No, I’m not trying to kill you, Soph. I’m trying to save you. If we do it now you’ll feel better and have more energy. It’s the twenty-first year and things are moving much faster than before. It’s not good to compare things to how they used to be.” He had explained it all before, but it never got easier.

“It’s not fair.”

Carwyn watched as tears slid down her perfect face, silent and more full of sadness than he could bear.

“No, it’s not fair.” He would not lie to her. He never had.

Sophia finally sat up and moved close to him, tucking her legs under her like a bird tucking their wings in for bed and resting her head on his knee. His fingers found their way into her hair and although he could not see her face, he could feel her eyes closing and her breathing settle.

“Did the joker cards arrive yet?” she asked, voice soft and wavering.

“Not yet, but soon,” he assured her, gently untangling her hair with his fingers. “But the Corvid Pirates have them and when they arrive we’ll be able to find the boy and he will fix this and you won’t ever have to do this again.”

“Do you think it could really work? A boy and some cards and a curse don’t seem real enough to succeed.” She had stopped crying, but her voice was hollowed out, empty.

“It has to work. I will not lose you.”

At this he pulled her to him and pressed his lips to the top of her head. She burned with fever against him.

“Can not or will not?” she asked in the same empty voice.

“Both, Sophia. Both.”

Sophia awoke and immediately knew something was different. Her eyelids were stuck together with sleep and it took some effort to open them. Blinking a few times, she saw that her room was full of shadows. Heavy drapes had been drawn over the windows and the gossamer curtains of her four poster bed were tied shut in silk bows, but she could still make out sunlight sneaking around the edges.

Yawning, Sophia rolled to her side, tucking her hands under her cheek and letting her eyes flutter shut again. Her body felt stiff and ached as though she was recovering from a fever. She tried to remember if she had been ill and found that she could not. She could not think what day it was or when she had gone to lie down or even what she had been doing the day before.

Shaking her muddled thoughts from her head, Sophia pushed herself into a seated position. Her head spun violently and she had to shut her eyes and purse her lips against a wave of nausea. While she waited for the room to settle she listened to the quiet all around her. There were no birds singing outside or the clatter of dishes in the kitchen down stairs or the thump of footsteps on the floorboards. Just an eerie afternoon stillness. The air was cold on her bare arms and goosebumps erupted across the planes of her smooth skin. Untying the curtains, Sophia bracing herself with one hand on the bedpost and stood up. Her heart fluttered too fast and light, rising straight to her throat with the movement and reverberating through her head. Her legs shook and wobbled, as unsteady as a newborn colt. She waited and held tight to the bedpost. Like the dizziness, her heart eventually calmed and fell to a normal, steady beat in her chest.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

She had the distinct feeling that this had happened before. She knew, instinctively, that in the past her legs had shook and her heart had fluttered and her head had spun, but she was not sure when or why. Something was definitely wrong.

With slow and careful steps, Sophia made her way to the nearest window. Drawing the curtains back, she had to shut her eyes against the sunlight that poured in. Blinking, she looked out on a deep blue sky full of billowing clouds tinged pink with a setting sun. How long had she slept?

Pulling the curtain the rest of the way open, Sophia turned to see her dressing gown draped over an arm chair by the foot of the bed. It was beautifully hand-stitched with lace flowers and ivy. Carwyn had given it to her for Winter Solstice a few years back; he knew how much she preferred handcrafted items that were made with skill and love and to last. As she slipped it over her shoulders a piece of thick cream paper tumbled from its folds to the carpet.

In case you wake before I return, I leave you this note. You fell ill last night, my dearest. I have performed the ritual. I hope you wake feeling well and rested. I love you.

Your dearest husband,

Carwyn x

Sophia read the letter through three times as understanding settled in. She felt as though she had been dropped from a great height. Her knees were weak and her shoulders rose up tight about her ears. She ran a finger over the familiar handwriting wishing they told a different story. But no amount of wishing could change this. Could change her life.

Sophia got dressed in leggings and sweatshirt. She thought about calling up the pirates to check on their order of the cards, but she was too afraid of what they might say so instead she went down stairs to play the piano. She did not play much these days. These years if she was being honest, she was too ill most of the time. She had never taught Zachary the way she had planned and he had found his artistic talent in dance instead. Now the grand piano sat silent and lonely in the music room.

After scanning the shelves of music, Sophia sat down empty handed and closed her eyes. She played all her favorite songs from memory, simple childhood tunes, minuettes and arpeggios. The notes flowed through her fingers like water from a spring, easy and light and so full of life. They tickled at her insides and made her smile, made her breathe more easily and brought the light back into her eyes. That is until the sound of the front door opening and the coming of voices stopped her short.

She got up and went to the doorway to see who had come in. Zachary’s footsteps stomped up the stairs, angry and familiar. Carwyn was handing his coat and bag to George, his shoulders rolled in and his hair a little untidy as though he had been running his fingers through it. Upstairs, Zachary’s bedroom door slammed shut.

“What happened?” she asked, kissing Carwyn hello.

“You’re awake,” he said, a little surprised. Although he smiled he did not seem altogether happy.

“Only for about an hour. What happened with Zachary?” she asked again.

“Nothing.” Carwyn kissed her back, but he felt absent, distracted. “I just mentioned the internship again and he did not take it well.”

“I don’t know why you keep pushing it on him.” Sophia sighed.

“I just want him to be able to support himself when we’re gone.”

Sophia followed Carwyn into the kitchen where he began pulling out a pasta bake their cook, Julienne, had prepared for them.

“Are we going somewhere?”

Carwyn shot her a look. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t,” Sophia insisted. “Even if we died today, our savings would last him two lifetimes. He did not grow up like you. He has an education, connections, and security and we give him those things so that he can live the life he wants.”

Carwyn put the pasta in the oven and turned around, leaning on the closed door.

“Can we not talk about this right now?”

The words to argue rose fast and hot on Sophia’s tongue, but one look at Carwyn’s tired, gold eyes had them dying in her mouth.

“Of course.”

She stepped into his arms and they embraced, her cheek pressed to his chest, her hands clasping behind his back. They did not say anything else. They just held each other and listened to the beating of their hearts, both grateful the other was alive.