He felt her warm breath upon his cheek, the perfume of her hair as she leaned over him. Uttering a faint scream, she sank backwards, and would have fallen, if it had not been for the interposition of Blueskin, who, at that moment, staggered into the room with a candle in one hand, and the bottle in the other. “You must have heard—have you—oh, tell me, won’t you?” she begged. I’d need to be out of my senses. The Plague raced through the city and the Palazzo, consuming it like fire. Even her memories of he who had frequented her life for the longest period of years were worn and fading.
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