Chapter 3

The bedroom was quiet except for the sound of his labored breathing.

Katherine reached out and placed the back of her hand against his forehead. The heat was terrifying.

"You have a fever," she said. "The wound is infected."

He knocked her hand away, his eyes snapping open. They were glassy with fever but still fierce.

"I know my own body," he muttered.

In his time, an infection like this was a death sentence. She knew that, even if he didn't want to admit it.

She turned back to the medical kit. She picked up the blister pack of antibiotics and the bottle of water.

She popped out two capsules. They were half red, half white. She held them out to him on her palm.

"Take these," she said. "They'll kill the bacteria and bring down the fever."

He stared at the capsules in her hand like she was offering him a live snake.

"What is this?" he asked, his lip curling. "An alchemist's pill?"

"It's medicine," she explained, trying to keep her voice patient. "It's made of penicillin. It's a mold extract that kills bad things in your body." She was parroting what the wilderness course instructor had drilled into them, hoping it sounded authoritative enough to convince a man who would probably think paracetamol was witchcraft.

Her explanation was clearly the wrong approach.

"Mold?" he repeated, his voice dripping with disgust. "You wish to cure me with rot?"

He swatted her hand away. The capsules went flying, bouncing off the floorboards.

"I will not take your poison," he declared, his hand fumbling for the sword again.

Katherine's patience snapped. She was tired, scared, and her hand was covered in his blood.

"It's not poison!" she yelled. "It's going to save your life!"

She might as well have been talking to a brick wall. He was a product of his time, whatever time that was, and he wasn't going to be convinced by modern science.

"You are too eager for me to consume it," he said coldly. "That only proves it is suspect."

He would rather die than take a pill from a stranger. It was a twisted logic, but it was his logic.

Katherine took a deep breath, trying to calm down. She couldn't force it down his throat. She had to play his game.

She bent down and picked up the two capsules. She blew the dust off them. Then, she popped out a third one from the blister pack.

She placed one capsule in front of herself and pushed the other two toward him on the nightstand.

"You think it's poison, right?" she asked, looking him dead in the eye. "In your world, how do you test for poison?"

He paused, his fevered brain processing her words. A flicker of understanding crossed his face. Silver probes. Food tasters. It was the royal way.

"You first." he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Katherine almost hesitated. She had taken this same antibiotic before, after a root canal the previous year. She knew she was not allergic. The physical risk was minimal-but the psychological gamble was enormous. Then she thought of the tabloid headlines, of the blood already soaking into her priceless antique mattress, and of the fact that if this man died in her bed, no explanation in the world would save her. She grabbed the capsule, twisted the cap off the water bottle, and swallowed it dry. She held her mouth open to show him it was gone.

He watched her, his eyes wide with shock at her boldness.

Katherine capped the water and set it down. She spread her arms wide.

"Now we wait," she said. "We wait to see if I drop dead. But your fever? It isn't going to wait."

It was a gamble. She was forcing his hand. She was making him choose between his paranoia and his life.

He stared at her, searching her face for any sign of deceit. She stared right back, refusing to blink.

A violent shiver wracked his body. His teeth chattered. The fever was winning.

He couldn't wait.

With a trembling hand, he reached for the two capsules. He picked them up, holding them like they were made of glass. He looked at her one last time, memorizing her features, as if he wanted to remember the face of the woman who had either saved or killed him.

Then, he put them in his mouth and took a long drink of the water.

He swallowed.