The tender, emotional father vanished, immediately replaced by the hyper-vigilant, paranoid medical commander.
"Are you ill?!" Kaelus demanded, sitting up straight, his violet eyes wide with panic. He pressed the back of his bare, ungloved wrist against her forehead, checking for a fever. "Is it the Capital smog? Did you consume a poisoned tart?! I will turn this carriage around and execute the Royal Baker!"
"I'm fine, Papa," Seraphina sniffled, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand. "The tarts aren't poisoned. They're just very dusty."
"Achoo!"
She sneezed again, louder this time.
Kaelus's panic escalated.
He grabbed the heavy wool blanket from the opposite bench and meticulously wrapped her in it, turning her into a tiny, confused burrito.
