It was some two months after George and Adria began training Alan in street fighting when the messenger bird came. George was holding court in the Dancing Dove when Adria approached him with a small roll of parchment.
"From the palace," she whispered in his ear as she handed it to him.
George unrolled the message, read it, then passed it back to her with a grin.
Adria read it. He won the fight. Malven to leave court. She grinned fiercely before murmuring, "Good. I had word he was tormenting some serving girls-already at his age."
George frowned at hearing that. Though he was the King of the Rogue (most thought that meant he had neither morals nor honor), he made it abundantly clear that the mistreatment of women was unacceptable in his court, and rapists were dealt with swiftly. Gods knew the Provost's Guard didn't care what happened to low-born women, so George used his power to make sure someone did. "Shame the lad didn't let us kill 'im."
Adria shrugged. "It's a long way from Corus to Malven. Accidents happen on the road. Bandits and suchlike."
George adopted a thoughtful expression. "We honor Alan's wishes for now. Malven left Court in disgrace. Nobles care about things like that. Let 'im wallow in his humiliation. His parents at least will punish him for besmirching their name. If anything happens to cause Alan to change his mind, we'll do somethin'."
Adria nodded sharply before wrapping her Gift around her like a cloak, sinking back into the shadows along the wall.
It was a relatively quiet night at the Dove. Certainly, the usual band of drunks were in attendance behaving in their usual drunken manner, but there was a distinct lack of energy underneath the drinking. It must be my lord Provost cracking down this week, she concluded. The man occasionally did that, to remind the commonfolk who held the power in the law's eyes. To him, it didn't matter if he got a just a passing shadow of respect from them. As long as they knew he could send them to the hangman. She resolved to determine if this phase would pass as quickly as it came. Nervous thieves made her job harder…
As it turned out later, Alan didn't want anything further to happen to Ralon of Malven. George's assessment that leaving Court in disgrace was enough for him was accurate. Adria respected the boy's decision and so kept her opinion that the only good enemy was a dead one to herself. Time would tell, and Adria could only hope that she would be proven wrong.
It was March when Orem fell ill. He was the first in the Rogue.
Disease was not uncommon in the Lower City. Too many people lived too close together. But, this illness was different. Adria saw that as soon as she saw the healers start to die.
"Regular sickness doesn't drain healers," George muttered to her.
They were sitting outside the workroom of his mother's house.
"Sorcery?" Adria asked, just as quietly.
George shrugged. "What else? What else can suck the Gift right out of a person until it kills them?"
She shook her head. "And they're not overtaxing themselves. Bran Stone was too talented, too smart to do that. Look where it got 'im. Dead. Who is strong enough to bespell a whole city?"
The Rogue chewed on his thumb, thinking. "I know no one common-born. The Duke of Conte is strong enough, I suppose. But our people in the palace say he's in Carthak. 'Sides, why would the King's nephew wish to weaken the city mages? The midwives and hedgewitches? Now, Carthak has mages that might be strong enough. Copper Isles, too, come to think."
Adria's forehead furrowed. "But they're so far away! It's one thing to cast a spell over a city, but it's quite a bit more to cast it at such a distance."
George shook his head. "None of the reports from the men I sent to Galla, Tusaine, or Maren suggest that any of those places have mages this strong."
She rubbed tired eyes with the heel of her hand. "But why?"
A few days later, when the Queen fell ill and then Prince Jonathan, they knew why. Stefan the hostler sent a messenger bird with the news some hours before it became public knowledge to the rest of the city. George and Adria exchanged knowing looks. Only after all the healers in the city were dead or severely weakened did the heir fall ill. Now there was a motive.
That evening, Adria collapsed.
When she awoke sometime later, she couldn't tell what time it was. It was light; it was dark; her vision swam. Someone poured water into her mouth and somehow she swallowed it. She could vaguely feel the press of many blankets on top of her, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized that there was a blazing fire in the hearth, but she still shivered.
She thought she heard George, but sounds were blending together. The room was spinning; she was spinning; something was spinning. Her one coherent thought was how happy she was she was lying down.
Unconsciousness claimed her again.
The next time she woke up, she was slightly more coherent. She moaned, and suddenly Eleni Cooper's face swam into focus. "It's okay. You're going to be just fine." She sounded so far away. The woman pressed a wet cloth to Adria's forehead.
Adria managed to say something. "Don't...die…"
She felt Eleni brush hair off her face. "Sweet girl, I won't die. And neither will you. You're so strong. And George will be very cross if you die."
Adria tried to smile but her lips only twitched. She fell asleep again.
This time, when she awoke, there was a familiar shape pressed against her side. She shifted her head. Oh, George, you loving fool. I could get you sick. She then noticed Eleni, who rose from a chair in the corner.
The woman who had come to be her mother spoke softly. "The fever broke yesterday. You were very sick for six days. You'll be weak for a while yet. George has hardly left your side. But I didn't let him in your bed until the fever broke and we changed the blankets. Can't have the both of you getting sick."
"How?" Adria's voice was scratchy and her throat hurt from disuse. Eleni gently pressed a cup of water to her lips and helped her drink from it. Once she drank it was a bit easier to speak. "How are you okay?" she asked the healer.
"I used only natural remedies, not my Gift. In the end, a fever is a fever, and you can fix that right up without magic."
"Any news of the queen and the prince?" Adria asked, regaining fuzzy memories of right before she fell ill.
"They're both alive. The queen is very weak, but it seems your friend Alan saved Prince Jonathan."
"Goddess bless," Adria muttered.
Eleni nodded. "Indeed."
"So George didn't get sick?" Adria asked, concerned.
Eleni shook her head. "No lass, though I was worried he would. I had a hard enough time keeping him out of here add much as I did. To be fair, it wasn't any safer in the city."
"I'm glad he didn't get sick," Adria whispered.
The healer pat her hand. "We're glad you lived."
Adria smiled softly and Eleni stood. "Are you hungry?" She asked.
The bed-ridden woman considered it. "I'm famished," she decided.
Eleni nodded. "Let's see if we can't find something you can eat."
As the woman turned to leave the room, Adria called out quietly. "Thank you, Mama."
Eleni's eyes brightened. It had been some time since Adria called her that. "You're welcome, dear one."
With that, Adria lay back down.
A/N: Holy hats, it's been almost 4 years. SO SORRY about that. All I can say is that life got in the way and then I got sucked into some different fandoms, but I haven't abandoned this yet! And I don't plan to!