Lady Charlotte Christianson lifted her head from the pillow and winced before setting it back down. The headaches were getting worse. She closed her eyes and blindly reached out beside her bed, slowly moving her hand around until she felt the small pewter bowl. Charlotte removed the cloth, which was draped over the side, and dipped it into the cool water. As her stomach lurched, her fist tightened, ringing out the excess liquid. She brought the damp cloth to her face and listened to the rhythmic throbbing of her head.

After several minutes, which seemed like hours, Charlotte reached her hand out again, retrieving a small jar from behind her headboard. She opened it and, using a tiny silver spoon, Charlotte withdrew some of its contents. She brought it to her mouth and swallowed the syrup, greedily licking the spoon until it was clean.

Shortly after, Charlotte sighed with relief as the drug began to work.

Minutes later, she was giggling and slurring what she thought were amusing and profound revelations to her spoon, which she had begun to call “Sil”.