"Wait, Princess Addie," Rhys said. "Can you stay a moment longer?"
	I blushed and nodded, feeling glad, wondering what he'd say.
	They left, but he didn't speak. He just stared after them. When they disappeared around the grape vines, he faced me, and there were tears in his eyes.
	"Some of you die so young." He looked up at the sky. "I talked about it with Orne, my teacher, but he only said 'They live briefly. That is their lot.'" Rhys shook his head. "He has no sympathy. Your sister..." He stopped again. "Oh, Princess Addie. I hate to say--"
	"What?" My voice rose. "What?"
	"It began today. She didn't have it yesterday. It happens that way. Princess Meryl... has the Gray Death."
	“Meryl?" I forced a laugh. “This morning she ran from her chamber to the stable, and then we rode for an hour.”
	“I’ve seen it too often. I lived in a village . . .”
	Meryl have the Gray Death? She couldn’t. Not Meryl.
	“It’s impossible,” I said calmly. “You don’t know her. Meryl is the last person who’d get it. She’s too strong. She’d refuse to get it.” My voice rose. “And how would you know? You’re not an elf. You’re not even—”
	“I’ve seen hundreds sick with it.” He took my hands.
	I pulled them away. “She isn’t sick. You’ll see.” I ran to the castle. She couldn’t be sick. I’d find Milton. He’d tell me she was fine.
	Milton wasn’t in the apothecary. Two elves I hardly knew were there. I heard Meryl’s name, but that meant nothing. I wheeled and ran.
	Bella stood in the hall outside Meryl’s chamber, weeping. I dashed by her and opened the door.
	Meryl was in a nightdress, sitting up in bed, Blood-biter in her lap. My heart lifted when I saw her. She looked like herself. She was Meryl—only in bed in the middle of the afternoon.
	Milton was arranging anemones in a vase on the table next to the bed. Anemones! Flowers of the dying. I flew at him and pulled them out of his hand.
	“She doesn’t need these!” I ran to a window, cranked it open, and threw them out.
	“Milton says I have the Gray Death.”
	I turned around. I saw how afraid she was. Her eyes were huge. But she was never afraid.
	I ran to her. “Milton’s wrong.” I glared at him. “You’re frightening her.” He wasn’t frightening me. She didn’t have it.
	He met my eyes, and his were the saddest I’d ever seen.
	I sat on the bed and hugged her hard.