Chapter Twenty-Eight

My stomach woke me, and I broke out into a cold sweat as I pressed a hand to my mouth fighting for control as I slipped from the bed. Caraway wasn’t there, his side of the covers rumpled, and his shoes gone from the floor.

I located the chamber pot under the bed just in time to wretch miserably over it, my stomach too empty to produce more than bile. The effort collapsed me to my knees, however, and I sat sobbing and miserable, thinking over all that had occurred the night before and what it meant that Aien had not sent me the dress – that brief period of hopefulness painful in its dying.

“Here,” Perditha had let herself into the chamber and held out an earthenware mug. “It is ginger and honey,” she told me. “It will help ease your stomach.”

“Thank you,” my voice was hoarse, and my hand shook as I reached for the cup.

“Some flatbread on your bedside, consumed before rising, should help,” she added. “You can purchase some at the market.”

“I’ll do that,” I sipped the tea. It would be