Cameron To Candy

Candy was in darkness. She could hear water somewhere ahead of her. Not much, just the occasional drip, soft and spaced out, like something leaking in a cave, or an impossibly large room. She’d been walking for… gods, who knew how long? The ground under her feet seemed wet, though when she looked down there was nothing there. There was no shine or puddles, just darkness and the feeling of cold around her ankles. There was a flash of reddish orange heat and Candy jerked forward, heart slamming in her chest as the dark gave way.

“That fox is lying!” She screamed as she surged upright.

The words tore out of her before she had any idea where she was. Her chest heaved. Her whole body was slick with sweat. The room around her swam in and out of focus, dim afternoon light spilling through the curtains, familiar walls, familiar dresser, familiar chair near the window, her dresses hanging in the open closet. She was in her bed, and someone familiar was right there beside her.

“Candy! Candy, hey. You’re okay!” Vivian assured her, jumping to her side, one hand already on her shoulder, sapphire blue eyes wide with alarm and relief. “You’re okay,” Vivian said again, a little louder this time. Then she half turned and shouted toward the open door, “She’s awake! Hey, she’s awake! Someone come up, now!”

Candy stared at her, still sucking in air. “Wh-wha-what…”

“You’re at home,” Vivian cut in. “Take a second,” she said slowly rubbing a circle on her back. “You’re home. You’re safe.”

Candy looked around again, still panting and wide-eyed. She was, in fact, in her bedroom. She was in her bed, with her blankets, near the little poster next to Marcus’ wardrobe. Marcus’s chair was pulled too close to the bed. A pitcher and cup sat on the side table. She was home... When did this become her home? This was Marcus’s home… No, that didn’t matter now. Her breathing eased, though not by much.

“What… what happened?” she asked.

Vivian let out a breath that sounded like she’d been holding it for an entire day. “You fainted at the bathhouse. Like, solidly. You went under the water like a stone! It was scary.”

Candy rubbed a hand over her face. Her skin felt hot and wrong. “I… how?”

“Beatrix hauled you out,” Vivian explained. “I pulled you up to the surface, but I couldn't lift you out of the water. Thank the gods she was there. That chick is strong.”

Candy, still panting, tried to process that information through the fog in her brain. Some stubborn part of her managed to reply. “Yeah. She really is.” Candy’s face contorted, brow furrowing as the soreness in her body registered with her. “Did, did she drop me?”

A tiny smile lit the corner of Vivian's mouth. “No, she was actually really careful. But she did destroy a coat rack on the way out.”

Candy shut her eyes for a second. “Yeah. That’s more what I’d expect. Where…?”

“She had to get back home. She asked her dad to stay, but he said no. He didn’t give a reason, but she said to tell you she’s sorry.”

“I see…”

Footsteps pounded up the stairs. Marcus came in first, almost too fast for the doorway, followed by a woman Candy didn’t know in a dark blue dress with a satchel in one hand and her hair pinned back tight enough to mean business. Marcus stopped short at the bedside, and for one naked second the relief on his face was so obvious it nearly made Candy uncomfortable.

The woman pushed right past him.

“Well,” she said briskly, setting her satchel down on the chair. “About time.”

Candy looked at her blankly.

“I’m Healer Merrow,” the woman said. “No, you don’t know me, and I’d have preferred it to stay that way, but I was assigned by the Ministry to be your physician. Open your eyes fully for me.”

Candy obeyed before she could think of anything sarcastic to say. The physician leaned in, checked her pupils, then pressed cool fingers to her wrist. “Good. Breathing’s steady enough now. Heart’s fast, but after that all that I can’t say I’m shocked.”

Marcus had moved to the other side of the bed by then. “How is she? Will she be ok?”

“She’s awake,” Merrow said. “That’s already an improvement. I don’t like how ghastly pale she looks though.”

Vivian folded her arms. “You could say that in a less icy tone.”

“I could.”

“Humph! So much for bedside manners,” Vivian mumbled.

Candy would have laughed if her head didn’t still feel like it had been packed with hot sand. Merrow checked her pulse again, then pressed a hand lightly to Candy’s forehead, listened to her breathing, and asked a short list of questions in the tone of someone who expected honest answers and did not care whether Candy found any of it charming.

“Any pain in your chest?”

“No.”

“Still have the headache?”

“Yes.”

“Nausea?”

“A little.”

“Spots in your vision?”

“Uh, I… before. Not right now.”

“Any weakness in one side more than the other?”

Candy frowned and lifted each arm in turn. “No.”

Merrow nodded once. “Good.”

Only then did Candy manage, “How long was I out?” Vivian and Marcus exchanged a look. Candy didn’t like that. “How long?” she asked again.

Vivian answered this time, gentler than the physician would have. “You passed out around three yesterday.” Candy stared at her. “It’s almost three now,” Vivian added.

For a second the room seemed to tilt all over again. “What?”

“You were asleep nearly the whole time,” Marcus said quietly.

Candy looked at him, then back at Vivian. “Nnn, no.”

“Yes,” Vivian reiterated. “You moved a little now and then. Coughed once or twice. Turned over a few times. Oh, you were pretty sweaty this last hour, but mostly you were just… you know, out.”

The physician capped that with a practical nod. “You didn’t wake enough to answer questions or take broth. We had to settle for water against the lips and waiting to see whether you’d come around on your own.”

Candy stared at the blanket over her legs. “That’s… not great.”

“No,” Merrow agreed. “It was not great.”

Vivian gave her a small, apologetic shrug. “ I stayed the night. I got permission from my Dad. We took turns.”

Marcus nodded toward the chair by the bed. “Me, Vivian, and the physician.”

Candy looked from one to the other. “You stayed all night?” Vivian smiled weakly and nodded. Candy let that sit for a moment, then said, “Thank you.”

Vivian’s face softened. “Of course.”

Merrow straightened up. “I don’t like the length of the sleep, but her pulse is good, breathing is clear, and there’s no sign of immediate physical damage. Given the headache beforehand, the heat, the fainting spell, and the extended sleep after, I’d put my money on a very bad migraine or a stress collapse. Dehydration probably compounded the problem. She’ll need food, water, and no corrections for several days.”

Candy perked up a bit at the last part. Then Merrow began packing her things back into the satchel. “The headache matters. So does the fact that…” she stopped, then looked at Vivian. “Miss Corkhollow, please leave the room. Now.”

“Excuse you? I don’t believe-“

“Now please,” Merrow insisted, flashing her Ministry badge.

Vivian raised an eyebrow and glanced at Candy, who gave her a slight nod. She stood and walked out muttering, “it’s the bathhouse all over again. Lousy ministry matrons taking over, pushing me out-”

When the door was shut Merrow continued.

“You’ll need to see your assigned mage, given there’s magic tangled up in your general situation.”

Candy’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You know about...”

“Just that,” Merrow said hurriedly, putting a hand up to stop her. “I know your magic field is complex, there’s some kind of extra magic in your threads, and you’re working with High Mage Eldrin,” Merrow explained. “And I know he specializes in transformative magics, but it’s not my place to guess with you. Whatever it is, Eldrin should hear about this once you’re steady enough. These things can be an indication of unexpected change, even if it’s not apparent at first.”

That was fair, irritatingly fair.

Merrow turned to Marcus. “Keep her eating light for tonight. Keep water near her. If she vomits repeatedly, stops making sense, or drops again, send for me at once.”

“I will.”

Merrow looked back at Candy. “And you. No hot baths. No standing up too quickly. No pretending you’re feeling better than you are. This could be nothing, or it could be something severe building.”

Candy muttered, “Thank you,” as she processed everything.

Merrow headed out the door. Vivian waited until the physician was gone before she leaned back into the room

“You really scared us,” she said. “Trying to ignore the fact that there was something private she hadn’t been included in.

Candy swallowed. Her throat felt dry. “Sorry.”

“No offense, but that was a kinda stupid thing to do,” Vivian scolded. “Coming to the bathhouse with a headache that bad.”

“Apparently.”

Marcus poured water into the cup and handed it over. Candy took it carefully. Her hand shook a little at first, then steadied.

Vivian watched until she drank, satisfied enough to go on. “And next time, maybe don’t come at all if you feel like that. Stay home, make Marcus wait on you, maybe get your temperature checked,” she added with a mischievous grin.

Candy took another sip. “Oh ha ha.”

There was a small pause after that. The room had gone quieter now that the panic had burned off. Candy could hear muted movement downstairs, the house settling back into itself, a wagon passing outside.

Then Vivian said, “By the way.”

Candy lowered the cup. “What?”

“What was with that thing you yelled when you woke up?”

Candy frowned. “What thing?”

Vivian tilted her head. “You don’t remember?”

“I… I remember waking up. Sort of. I remember you… no, I was panting, I guess… I…” she trailed off.

Vivian exchanged a glance with Marcus. “You sat straight up and yelled, ‘That fox is lying.”

Candy stared at her. “What?” she asked in flat affect.

“Or something like that.”

Candy frowned harder. “That’s weird.”

“Yeah,” Vivian nodded. “Very weird.”

Candy looked down at the cup in her hands. “I don’t remember dreaming anything.”

Vivian shrugged. “Maybe you were. I’m certainly no expert, but could have just been random words. I mean, your head must have been preeeeetty jumbled.”

“Maybe,” Candy said uncertainly. She hated not remembering. Really hated it. Vivian must have seen some of that on her face, because she stood and gave Candy’s shoulder a quick squeeze.

“Anyway, you’re awake and making sense now. That’s the important part.” She stepped back toward the door. “I should get home before my Mom and Dad get worried.”

Candy gave her a tired smile. “Thanks for staying.”

Vivian waved it off. “Don’t mention it hot stuff. But please, drink more water. Listen to the physician and maybe don’t give me any more heart attacks for a while.”

“I’ll do my best,” Candy answered with a laugh, faint though it was.

Vivian grinned, satisfied with the sound of it, then headed out. At the door she paused, looked back once, and said, “Tell Beatrix you survived, by the way. She looked like she wanted to carry the whole building if it would help.”

“Hmm, I bet she would,” Candy said with a little smile. Then Vivian was gone, and the room quieted again.

Marcus stayed where he was for a moment. She leaned back against the headboard and studied him. He looked tired. Not dramatically so, but definitely worn down in the way people who slept in a chiar most of the night tended to be.

“You look awful,” she said.

“Thanks.”

She took another sip of water. “Sorry.”

This time he didn’t shrug it off right away. He looked at her, quiet for a second, then said, “You uh, you did scare us, actually.”

That shut her up. He rubbed a hand over his face.

Candy looked down. “I’m, sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, but… yeah.”

They sat in that for a beat. Then, because sitting in feelings too long had never been a strength for Paddkewick men, even a denied one, Marcus cleared his throat and pushed on.

“Well,” he said, more lightly now, “you’re awake, and we’re supposed to get some food in you.”

Candy grimaced. She was at a stage where she knew she needed to eat but wasn’t sure she could bring herself to. “Ok… what’s the options?” “

Marcus moved to the wardrobe and opened one side, then looked back at her. “I didn’t have time to make anything, and you are in no shape to try cooking. And definitely not in the shape to eat your cooking…” Candy gave him a look. Marcus kept going. “Not that you can cook on the best of days.”

She let out a short, unwilling laugh. “Wow.”

“I’m right.”

“You’re an ass.”

“I can be two things. Don’t put me in a box.” That got another breath of laughter out of her, and she was annoyed that it helped. Marcus folded his arms. “So, once you’re dressed and feeling steady enough to walk, we can go downtown and get something simple.”

“Simple,” Candy repeated. “You mean cheaper.”

“Not what I meant, but that helps too.”

“Copper fist.”

Marcus tilted his head. “Hey, I’ve got to save money so I can keep you in pretty things.”

“Oh hardy har har,” she rolled her eyes.

“Uh, tell you what,” he said, wisely moving forward. “You’re the one who’s recovering. You pick any restaurant you want that’ll take us without a reservation.”

Candy looked up at him in disbelief.

“Really?”

“Really.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Man. That really must’ve scared you. You, offering me spending discretion?”

Marcus almost smiled. “Yes. It did.” That landed harder than she expected.

Candy looked away first. “All right.”

“All right, what?”

“All right,” she said again,. “I’ll pick.”

Marcus nodded toward the washstand. “Then finish your water. Sit another ten minutes. After that, get dressed slowly. If you fall over while putting on stockings, and Greg finds out you’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Ha. Well, that’s true… Hey, Viv said something about matrons at the bathhouse. What was that about?”

“Oh, yeah, as soon as the call went out that you’d passed out there a half dozen female ministry employees were sent to collect you. You know, before anyone there could notice certain things about you. It wasn’t a great place for that to happen to you.”

Candy grunted recognition and trailed off thinking about that point. It was in many ways the worst place that could have happened. Really she was lucky, very lucky, no one…

He left her to wash up and change, though not before setting another full cup of water beside the bed. Candy moved carefully. Physician Merrow had been right about one thing at least. Standing too fast made the room feel loose around the edges, so she took her time. By the time she’d changed into a day dress and laced herself in, the worst of the weakness had passed, leaving behind only that washed-out, slightly fragile feeling that came after an illness or a long cry. Not that she’d done the second one.

When she came downstairs, Marcus looked up from the front room and gave her a quick once-over in a disturbingly Paddlewician husband kind of way..

“You look upright,” he said.

“High praise.”

He sighed. “It is today.”

She reached the bottom step and paused. “I’m still picking the place.”

“Yeah, I said you could.”

“And you can’t complain when I do.”

“I can let you pick and still complain. What’d I just say about boxes?”

Candy smirked then studied him for a moment, finally saying, “There’s that little place off Ledger Lane. The one with the butter rolls.”

Marcus’s brows lifted. “The Balanced Ledger Lodge? That’s your choice?”

“It’s warm. It’s close, and I want the rolls.”

A faint smile touched his mouth. “Then The Lodge it is.”

He got her shawl and tossed it over to her. She hadn't asked for it. She didn't comment but wondered if he was trying to manage her. A few minutes later the two of them stepped out into the late afternoon light and started toward the trolly stop.

***

Marcus hadn’t been exaggerating about the restaurant being simple, more so even than Candy had remembered. That suited Candy just fine.

They had taken a carriage into town because Marcus had looked at her once on the front step and decided, without saying so directly, that she was not making to all the way to Ledger Lane and back on foot. Candy had rolled her eyes but let him help her up anyway. The driver was the best kind in Candy’s mind, that is, the kind that didn’t say any more than he had to to know where to take them and to collect their money.

The ride was short. Paddlewick Prime was orderly enough that even its evening bustle felt disciplined. Lamps had been lit. Shop windows glowed. Wives and husbands moved along the chalked walking lanes. Carts rolled past at the regulation pace, never faster. Somewhere farther off, a bell rang the hour.

Candy sat with her shawl pulled close and watched the city go by. She still didn't feel quite right. It wasn't the same as the headache. The worst of that had passed. This was something else. A low, vague unease sat just under her ribs. She couldn’t name it, which bothered her more than anything.

Marcus sat in silence for most of the ride. He glanced at her once or twice, not enough to illicit comment but enough to annoy her.

Ledger Lane was warmer than the main avenue, tucked into one of those neat little commercial rows Paddlewick did so well. The restaurant Candy had chosen sat between a cooper’s shop and a place that sold only brown or grey clothes. Light spilled through the windows in gold rectangles onto the street.

Inside, it smelled like yeast, onions, pepper, and something sweet under all of it. Butter, probably, or honey warming somewhere in the back. That smell alone made Candy realize how hungry she was.

The hostess took one look at Marcus, then one look at Candy, who still had the slightly washed-out look of someone recently hauled back from the brink then seated them with unusual speed.

They were shown to a small table near the wall. Not private, exactly, but tucked far enough away that Candy could relax.

A candle burned between them in a squat little brass holder. The tables around them were full but not loud. A married couple shared a pie near the front. Two men in National Guard off-duty jackets sat near the back with a pair of tankards. An older wife, silver-haired and stern-looking, was glaring at them while her husband described something about axle grease with grave importance.

Candy sat down carefully and let the warmth of the room settle over her. A server came. Marcus ordered first.

“The grongolonk steak,” he said, handing over the menu. “With potatoes, green beans and a roll, please.” The server nodded.

Candy had barely glanced at the menu. “Soup,” she said. “And the butter rolls.”

“The root broth?”

“Sure.”

The server left.

Marcus folded his hands. “The physician’s orders were light food.”

“Soup is light food.”

“You only chose it because it comes with bread.”

“That doesn’t detract from the soup.”

He let that go, which meant he knew she was technically right. The first basket of rolls arrived before the soup did. They were small, glossy, and still warm, each with a softened top brushed in something sweet and buttery. Candy tore one open and steam curled out.

Marcus watched her take the first bite.

“Better?” he asked.

She chewed, swallowed, and gave the smallest nod she could manage without admitting too much. “Don’t ruin it.” He almost smiled.

The soup came a minute later, pale broth with diced roots, herbs, and a little shredded meat floating through it. Candy hadn’t realized how empty she was until the first warm spoonful went down.

It helped. Not a miracle level help, or enough to clear that low feeling from her chest, but it was enough for her to start settling. Her shoulders dropped by the time Marcus was halfway through his steak, cutting it with the efficient seriousness of a man who respected both money and well marbled steak. He noticed before she did.

“You look less haunted,” he said.

“Thank you. That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all week.”

“I said your dress looked fine earlier.”

“You said it would do, and it's creepy you’re commenting on my clothes.”

He paused. “Yeah, sorry.”

Candy dipped a roll into her soup. For the first time since waking, Candy let herself relax. The room was warm. The food was good. Marcus was being mostly tolerable. Outside, hooves passed in the street, then faded. Someone at the next table laughed. Someone else dropped a fork and muttered an apology.

It was a perfectly normal evening.

Then every crystal in the room lit up.

The little table lamp on the hostess stand. The polished scry bead near the register. The three decorative viewing crystals set into the back wall. Even the old hand-sized mirror charm hanging near the kitchen arch flared yellow all at once. A deep, slow chime filled the restaurant.

DIIIIINNNG.

It came again, steady and low.

Diiiiinnng.

Not loud, exactly. Worse than loud. Inescapable. It seemed to settle into the bones of the room. All conversation stopped. A fork slipped from somebody’s hand and hit a plate. The crystals continued to pulse, each glow rising and falling in the same sickly yellow rhythm.

Diiiiinnng.

Every person in the room knew what it meant. Candy saw it happen in their faces before she understood it consciously. The way everyone went still. The way the color changed. The way wives looked at husbands, children looked up at parents, and men straightened without thinking.

It was the Royal Announcement channel. Kingdom-wide.

The server who had brought their soup had gone pale. One of the National Guard men in the back was already on his feet. From somewhere outside came the muffled answering chorus of other alarms, other crystals, other mirrors, all chiming in time across the city.

DIIIIINNNG.

The owner stepped out from behind the front counter, face tight but voice controlled.

“Everyone, please exit in an orderly fashion,” he said. “Make your way downtown. The nearest viewing station is at the central projection square. Don't stop to pay, just go."

No one argued. No one lingered to finish food or settle gossip or complain that their evening had been interrupted. It was Paddlewick. A royal emergency signal did not invite discussion.

Chairs scraped back. Marcus stood at once. Candy did too, slower, spoon still in her hand for half a second before she realized and set it down. Her heart had started going too fast.

The owner was still speaking. “Orderly, please. No running. Families stay together.”

Marcus grabbed his coat and put it on while Candy, without speaking, took two extra rolls from the basket and slipped them into her napkin, then joined Marcus at his side.

What fresh hell was this about?