Nora's POV
"How is she doing?" Antonia settles at the edge of the bed, her worried gaze fixed on me.
"She's not improving at all," James responds, his voice strained with frustration. "Nothing makes sense about this." His fingers trail through my hair with tender care. He assumes I'm still unconscious, but I lack the strength to prove him wrong by opening my eyes. "I've researched every human illness I could find. Common colds, seasonal flu, everything. Her symptoms don't align with any of it."
Antonia shifts closer and presses her palm against my burning cheek. "She's running dangerously hot."
The mattress dips as James reaches for the thermometer. He doesn't voice the reading, but his sharp intake of breath tells me everything I need to know.
"Hours have passed and there's been no change in her temperature?"
Concern threads through Antonia's tone. "I'll return shortly."
