"Heila, why isn't he crying?"
Heila didn't answer.
She turned the boy over in her hands and cleared his mouth with her smallest finger. Nothing. She rubbed his back with the rough corner of a linen, briskly, the way Cecile had taught her to. Nothing.
His heartbeat fluttered faintly beneath her palm. Still there. Still fighting.
Breathe, she willed him. Breathe, little one. Your sister did. You can too.
"Emmie," she said, very calmly. "Fetch my potion bag. There's a bottle in it, sealed in red wax. Bring it here, quickly."
"This one?" Emmie said, holding up a dull glass bottle that only held a few drops of liquid that clung to the inside of the bottle.
"That's the one," Heila said, nodding as she directed the tiniest thread of power into the infant's heart, keeping it warm while the rest of his body went cold.
