dark liquid inside. She kneels beside me and lifts the cold glass bottle to my lips. “Have a sip, child.” My initial reaction is to prepare my palate for a bitter, sour taste but that is not the case; it is sweet and flowery. The elixir feels soothing on my throat. Not confident it will help my head, at least it took the wretched burning in my throat.
“ Thank you.” Beatrice’s face is kind; she gestures in answer and goes back to her small area by the wall.
Michael chuckles. “Did you think she was trying to poison you? Your face was comical.” I sigh and lean back.
“ I am leery of taking anything. Substances mixed together in the wrong doses can be deadly.”
“ You know a lot about healing,” he expresses quizzically.
“ I was at Oxford.”
“ Oxford?” he queries, amazed. “How is it possible?”
“ I was admitted to the classes, laboratories, and examinations,” I rattle off. “But would not be allowed to hold a degree regardless of whether I could keep up with the men .” I know my voice is sour. “Or achieving high marks.”
“ That sounds unfair. Although I did not know women were allowed to attend.”
“ It cost my father a great deal of money and persuasion to allow my attendance. Other women participated in classes before, but not in the medical field. I am the first.”
“ Were you alone then?”
“ No. I had a great friend.” A small twinge of melancholy touches me thinking of Joshua.
A few moments pass. We sit and observe the travelers. Very subtly, the ship does a choppy dance. Shouting voices trail down to the lower level from above. The sea, wildly agit ated, begins to toss the ship. I groan—another.
“ Michael? You better hold on,” I suggest through my foggy head.
“ Why?” he asks. As the word leaves his mouth, the ship dips down hard.
Cold water floods the floor; clothes, lanterns, and other person al effects shuffle across, strewn throughout the sea water ending at the very tip of the room in a heap, reminiscent of a garbage pile. Three deep bobs and the ship tips the other way sending everything back across.
Standing, I grab Michael and help him to attach himself to the post that we slept against last evening. He is having difficulty due to only having the use of one good arm. I hug the pillar and wrap my other arm around Michael , sandwiching us together. I am weaker than normal due to this oncoming ailment. It’s an effort to keep myself in place. Michael notices my struggle and yells above the chaos.
“ I’m going to wrap my leg around you!”
I nod in understanding with the wood against my cheek. Michael swings his leg behind me , grabbing me at the knees. Pinning ourselves, we ride out the storm. Shivering from the freezing water that has soaked my clothes and shoes, I pray that this ends. Barely able to hold on any longer, a despairing, tired part of me wants to let go, flail around, going wherever the storm forces me—and just give up.
My hand begins to slip ; the jostling and dampness is too much. I’m losing my hold. Dread replaces the part of me that wants to give up. The deceptive inkling dies. With renewed vigor, I stretch myself to capacity and reconnect to the pillar, thinking of Michael’s safety as well as my own. As if it was never there, the jarring wanes. The restless ship quiets down and the water begins to flow away, leaving behind a cacophony of debris that the passengers quickly move to sort. My taut, aching muscles relax, but my head is pounding with such fury, I am having trouble standing.
Michael stabilizes me and I find my purchase. I glance around at everyone looking for injuries. It seems as though this storm didn ’t bring about the injuries of last time. The people had prepared for another tempest. I sit out of necessity and the damp boards seep into my pants.
Chapter 6
Elijah:
She is unwell and I pace my cabin with my healing injury making my immortal
“ Thank you.” Beatrice’s face is kind; she gestures in answer and goes back to her small area by the wall.
Michael chuckles. “Did you think she was trying to poison you? Your face was comical.” I sigh and lean back.
“ I am leery of taking anything. Substances mixed together in the wrong doses can be deadly.”
“ You know a lot about healing,” he expresses quizzically.
“ I was at Oxford.”
“ Oxford?” he queries, amazed. “How is it possible?”
“ I was admitted to the classes, laboratories, and examinations,” I rattle off. “But would not be allowed to hold a degree regardless of whether I could keep up with the men .” I know my voice is sour. “Or achieving high marks.”
“ That sounds unfair. Although I did not know women were allowed to attend.”
“ It cost my father a great deal of money and persuasion to allow my attendance. Other women participated in classes before, but not in the medical field. I am the first.”
“ Were you alone then?”
“ No. I had a great friend.” A small twinge of melancholy touches me thinking of Joshua.
A few moments pass. We sit and observe the travelers. Very subtly, the ship does a choppy dance. Shouting voices trail down to the lower level from above. The sea, wildly agit ated, begins to toss the ship. I groan—another.
“ Michael? You better hold on,” I suggest through my foggy head.
“ Why?” he asks. As the word leaves his mouth, the ship dips down hard.
Cold water floods the floor; clothes, lanterns, and other person al effects shuffle across, strewn throughout the sea water ending at the very tip of the room in a heap, reminiscent of a garbage pile. Three deep bobs and the ship tips the other way sending everything back across.
Standing, I grab Michael and help him to attach himself to the post that we slept against last evening. He is having difficulty due to only having the use of one good arm. I hug the pillar and wrap my other arm around Michael , sandwiching us together. I am weaker than normal due to this oncoming ailment. It’s an effort to keep myself in place. Michael notices my struggle and yells above the chaos.
“ I’m going to wrap my leg around you!”
I nod in understanding with the wood against my cheek. Michael swings his leg behind me , grabbing me at the knees. Pinning ourselves, we ride out the storm. Shivering from the freezing water that has soaked my clothes and shoes, I pray that this ends. Barely able to hold on any longer, a despairing, tired part of me wants to let go, flail around, going wherever the storm forces me—and just give up.
My hand begins to slip ; the jostling and dampness is too much. I’m losing my hold. Dread replaces the part of me that wants to give up. The deceptive inkling dies. With renewed vigor, I stretch myself to capacity and reconnect to the pillar, thinking of Michael’s safety as well as my own. As if it was never there, the jarring wanes. The restless ship quiets down and the water begins to flow away, leaving behind a cacophony of debris that the passengers quickly move to sort. My taut, aching muscles relax, but my head is pounding with such fury, I am having trouble standing.
Michael stabilizes me and I find my purchase. I glance around at everyone looking for injuries. It seems as though this storm didn ’t bring about the injuries of last time. The people had prepared for another tempest. I sit out of necessity and the damp boards seep into my pants.
Chapter 6
Elijah:
She is unwell and I pace my cabin with my healing injury making my immortal
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