The air in the converted healing chamber hung thick with the sharp, earthy scent of fermented potato broth and crushed herbs.
Taut tension lingered in the air amongst the occupants of the manor for various reasons.
It had been 2 days after receiving the first dose of penicillin. Although the spread of the blackening on her skin stopped at her upper limbs, Dola, Jem's cousin, still lay pale and shivering on the bed, her breathing a ragged wheeze that grew shallower by the hour.
Agitated, Aria had paced the courtyard all night.
Perhaps she did not think this through. She was not a doctor. She barely even knew first aid.
Jem was even more restless--praying to the heavens, locked away in the underground dungeon, his face drawn with exhaustion.
Kira and Lira found him deathly pale with hollowed eyes and cheeks from worry. He was released from containment himself hours earlier, after they confirmed he carried no contagion from his cousin.
