My Dream Banquet Chapters Ten and Above

Chapter the Fifteenth: Don't be a Pill!

"Dong... Dong... Dong," a strong voice donged through Rayma's royal chambers. "Ding, ping, sing!" It chimed.
The combination of low dongs and shrieking chimes thumped Rayma out of her Raoolian siesta.
"Lady's maid!" She croaked through a thick fog of smoke crowding her lungs.
"By the Raoolian Rufferees!" She exclaimed weakly. "Who has slain my voice?"
The talking only made the burn worse, the torture fiercer.
"Lady's maid?" Rayma's delicate rasp tried to thunder through, but severely failed.
Rayma desperately tried to remember the one class her parents had been forced to make her take; Save Yourself Only 101.
"No... Nope...Neep," she flipped through the textbook imprinted in her mind. "Why did I read this Raoolianly Ruthless... Riterature?" She thought in RATified frustration.
"Aha!" She managed a small squeak. "Take your pulse- if you feel it, you're almost dead."
The royal's heart rattled recklessly.
"Here goes." She thought as her talons scraped along her scaly earlobe.
"By the Rats!" She shivered. "I'm halfway gone ready!"
Thankfully, she didn't have to worry for long as her savior was already knocking down the door.
"Stay back!" Rayan crashed in. "This is Rayma Protection Services!"
Instantly, Rayma had an idea. She thumped her tail twice, then snapped.
"Hello, Rayan."
Rayan gasped.
"Rayma! Why are you using our secret sign language?" He frowned in confuzzlement. "I thought we were only supposed to use that in emergencies?!"
Two blinks. A hair flip.
"You're hurt..." He decoded. "Smokeaconia?" The knight guessed.
Rayma smacked her forehead, then plopped her head up and down. Why had she not thought of that before?
A grunt, three clicks. Two rests of silence. A squeak.
"How did I know?" Rayan flashed a tooth-less smile. "I did take the Protect Rayma 101 class when I was one, ya know."
"Anyways," he hurriedly rushed to her side. "I'll solve this dilemma in a non heart beat."
He zoomed out and back in in .1733939300292873822910029283838373883838273639283639929292828000000017383804.2 milli seconds.
"Sorry I was gone so long," he hauled a basket in the room. "I didn't want to leave you."
A hair flip, check of the nails twice. Two teeth clicks.
"It's ok."
Rayan scattered the goodies onto the sand bed.
"Get well cards, a white rose, three pink teddies, a kissing frog, four cups a tea, five chocolate bars, two pancakes," he paused. "Oh, and a big hug from Sir Ra!"
He crossed his fingers behind his back. It wasn't quite a lie... Yet.
"Knock! Rap! Crash!" The door was knocked upon. "Rayma!" Sir Ra's voice clacked.
A clap.
"Hide!"
Rayan dived into the nearest bathtub.
"Rayma! I must come in!" The impatient suitor snooted.
Rayma took a shallow shuddering breath.
"'Ullo?" She managed.
Sir Ra sighed as if this came to a deep inconvenience to him, and swung open the door.
His boiling yellow eyes scorched the room until they found Rayma's frail figure.
"Why are you still in bed?" He demanded.
"I'm... Cough... Wheeze... Sick."
"Oh dear," he checked his nails. "Looks like influenza."
Rayan snorted from the pink porcelain tub. Influenza? Wasn't that a fairy tale disease?
"What was that?" Ra sneered. "Do you have a cat in here?"
Rayma only shook her head. Ra Ra musn't be able to see that talking hurt her.
Thankfully, Rayan had this covered.
Pulling his emergency disguise out of his pocket, he swapped his nose and eyes, and donned a hat. Now he was a classic doc.
He leapt out of the tub.
"It's Smokeaconia you... Uh... Sir."
"No it's not!" Ra was outraged. "I should know."
"No I should!"
"No I should!"
"No I should!"
"No I should!"
"No I should!"
"Would you both just shut up already!?" Rayma's yell resounded throughout the kingdom of Raool. "Oh. That's better." Suddenly the burning flames in her throat were doused.
"It's Smokeaconia." Rayan stood up straighter. "Sometimes yelling cures the flames caused by this infection."
"Infection," Ra wrinkled his nose. "You mean I've been in contact with someone contagious?!"
"BOYS!" Rayma yelled.
"RAYMA!" The queen yelled in her slumber. "Princesses don't yell!"
"It's the butt aches," Rayan explained to Ra. "I've been, er, prescribing some medicine to those royals."
Sir Ra took a deep breath. Exhaling, he pounced over to the door.
"Rayma," he called as he departed. "In the breakfast room. Five minutes."
Rayan sighed in relief. Suddenly, his eyes grew watery with fury.
"You're still weak with sickness," he turned to Rayma. "How can he expect you to continue on with the day's activities?"
Rayma was smiling.
"Dreamy, right?"