At least that was like Earth. Everything moved faster in war. Cara’s thoughts were foggy. Despite the potions, including a healing potion for her throat, she was running a fever.

“Something is wrong. I cannot believe it is a sickness.”

“I think it’s the stress. Or perhaps mana fever? Let Miss Cara rest. We may need her voice tomorrow.”

“But—”

Violetta hesitated as her father touched her arm. No one said it. But they needed Cara. Her songs could change the tide of the battle. With her singing—no one grew tired.

It was wrong. Cara struggled with the idea as Violetta applied another towel and left her alone. Risel gathered Sasi and Culin, who had come as well.

“Thank you for singing, Miss Cara.”

The girl whispered to the young woman. That hurt. Cara flinched. Sasi waved, and Culin put something on her chest. It was a flower. He’d plucked it—with a hint of purple—from around the keep.

They left her. Cara lay there, feeling her fever worsen. Which was…bad. If she got it, she couldn’t sing tomorrow.

Good.

She didn’t hear anything as the light faded. The smell, the siege continued. Cara lay there.

Wrong, all wrong. No heroes. No rulers. A song shouldn’t change anything. She was an actor on a stage, not a hero in a story. She was miscast. All flaws, no redeeming qualities. She couldn’t even pretend to be that kind of person.

Her head spun. Cara wanted to puke. The fever was getting worse. Any more and it would put her out for good. They might all die. Was that worth…?

Someone opened the door. Cara heard the sound, but her head spun too much to let her see who it was. She saw a flash of light as a lantern was lit. She didn’t make a sound as the light came closer.

“Well, I had to see it for myself. Pathetic.”

Someone murmured. An old, female voice. Duchess Gr—

An old hand slapped Cara on the face with an open-palm. Cara jerked.

“Ah!”

That hurt! She started, rolling over to scowl at Grishen. The old [Lady] looked down at her imperiously.

“Look at you. Too afraid to be anything more than a coward. It’s no wonder you hate authority so, girl.

Anyone with proper backbone can see you can’t face any kind of responsibility.”

“W—what the hell?”

Cara croaked. Her throat stung horribly despite the potion. And her head hurt. Grishen sat down on a chair next to Cara’s bed.

“I heard you’d taken sick after singing all day. I don’t believe it. A Skill doesn’t work that way. And if you burned through all your mana with that illusion spell I’ll eat my mace. Stop faking your illness. We need you to help us slaughter undead tomorrow and that is what you’ll do.”

“I can’t.”