Swiftcurrent Creek Let me go, I wanna die in the disco

Venison! Maybe Reverie would need Lestan's help with that one. She tried not to think too hard about what that would mean: violence, death, blood on her beloved Mayfair man again. She tried, too, not to flinch from Moss's question.
But it was hard. I've been... sick, She explained quietly, looking away from Moss. I haven't been eating or sleeping very much. I get dizzy, and I fall. Suddenly realizing that her words might cause Moss some alarm, she added, It's not the kind of sickness that can spread. It's... Reverie bit her lip and tried to remember the word her father had used for it. Chronic.