Santiago speaks again, but it’s only the low timbre of his voice, not the actual words that I make out.

I think about what happened last night when he brought out the vial. How my thoughts had gone to those old stories of poisoning within The Society. How Santiago had sipped the contents to confirm it wasn’t poison as if guessing my thoughts. As if that were a real thing. A possibility.

Poison.

Who uses poison? What year is this?

No, that can’t be what they’re talking about.

But I keep going back to that last word. Coma. I think about my father lying in a coma in that hospital bed. He’d gone into cardiac arrest. It made sense, given his lifestyle.

I shake my head. This is stupid. They’re not talking about poison.

“Does anyone else know?” Santiago asks.

“No.”

“Good. If you find any more information,” he starts, but that’s my cue. I’m sure he’ll come check on me before he goes to bed, and I need to be back in my room if he does.

Without waiting to hear anything else, I hurry out of the library but knock my hip on a shelf in the dark. I don’t have time to wait to see if anyone heard the sound. I keep going, pausing only briefly to listen at the library door to make sure the hall is clear before hurrying back to the main part of the house, then up the stairs, slipping into my bedroom and closing the door, my heart in my throat as I throw off my robe and hurry into my bed.

The next morning, I wake up to cramps low in my belly.

I open my eyes to watch the soft orange glow of the rising sun coming through the sheer curtains. I left the heavier drapes open.

I push the blanket back and get up, seeing the smudge of red on the white sheets. Different than the blood on our wedding night. Abel came through. Santiago will be disappointed, though.

Good.

Walking into the bathroom, I open the cabinet beneath the sink to look for tampons. I hadn’t thought to look before, but a slow panic comes over me when I don’t find any. In fact, there’s nothing here I can use at all.

I go into the closet to look through the drawers there. Did he really miss this detail? He doesn’t seem like he’d miss any detail. I was joking about his potency, but did he really think I’d be pregnant instantly and not have the need?

Unbelievable.

I walk back into the bathroom and wad up toilet paper to absorb the flow, then wash my hands and put on my robe to find Antonia. I’m not asking Santiago for tampons. And I’m definitely not asking Mercedes.