Chapter 24
Lord above, when will this end?
This was the third day in a row River couldn’t hold anything down.
Everything seemed to bother her stomach, from the most elaborate pies to the simplest of porridges, all of which she had tried to stomach with little success.
Even the thought of water seemed daunting.
At first, it seemed to offer some relief, but as time passed, nausea gripped her once more and she promptly emptied her stomach in basins that the maids so helpfully provided her.
“Have ye eaten somethin’?” Layla asked as she sat on the edge of her bed, where River lay, trying to fight the nausea. Arya and Colby were sitting at the other side, both children watching her with such concern that it broke her heart to pieces.
They were so scared of losing her. They were so scared of losing the only family they had left.
River wanted to assure them she was fine, but it seemed like a hollow promise. How could she assure them of anything when she didn’t know what was wrong with her herself?
Even the sight of the almost untouched tray of breakfast near her bed was enough to make her stomach churn. The smell of it brought wave after wave of nausea to her stomach, and she motioned weakly at it.
“Can ye take that away, please?” she asked, and Layla was quick to whisk the tray away, placing it in the low table of her sitting room instead, which was too far away for the scent to reach her.
“River . . . what’s wrong?” Arya asked, and River hated how fearful she sounded. She didn’t want to see Arya and Colby like this, terrified that something bad would happen to her.
“I’m sure it’s naethin’ but a cold,” Layla called as she rushed back to her bedside. “Isnae that right, me lady? There’s an illness goin’ round the castle, but it’s naethin’ tae fash about. Ye’re young and strong, ye’ll be healthy again in nae time.”
Layla’s words were reassuring, but the tone of her voice less so. River could see it in the way she held her shoulders, a tense, rigid line. She could see it in the side-glances she gave her, as if she feared to face her fully, as if she was constantly keeping an eye on her.
Layla, too, was worried.
River didn’t find that particularly reassuring. People like her had seen illness and death, and if she was worried, it meant that there was a reason for her to worry. Layla was hardened by her life; she would not hold any concern for trivial things.
When the door opened, River turned to see Finlay there, standing with his arms crossed over his chest. Concern was etched over his features, too, as he stared at her where she lay in bed, covered to the chin by the bedsheets.
“I’ve heard we’re nae eatin’,” he barked, and River couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the man. A part of her feared he would try to spoon-feed her like he did when she was a child, sparing no thought to the fact that it would be embarrassing for her.
“She’s nae feelin’ well,” said Layla before River could answer. “I say it’s a cold.”
“Aye,” said Finlay grimly. “I bet that’s what it is.”
He didn’t seem convinced either. Besides, save for the extreme nausea and the fatigue, there was nothing else to indicate River had caught a cold. She didn’t have a cough. She wasn’t running a fever. Her only problem was that she couldn’t get out of bed and she could keep nothing down.
Another wave of nausea hit her then, and River had to work hard to keep the scant contents of her stomach down, her face twisting into a grimace. At the sight of it, Finlay rushed to her side, and Arya reached for her hand, holding it tightly in her own.
“Is there naethin’ we can do?” Arya asked.
Throughout it all, Colby had been uncharacteristically quiet, his gaze glued to the floor. River’s heart ached seeing the two of them like this, and she was quick to nod towards them and then towards the door, so that Layla would take them out of the room for a while.
It would be better if they spent some time away from her, playing, being carefree again. The more time they spent locked up in that room with her, the worse it would be for them.
“Come now,” said Layla, placing one hand on Arya’s shoulder and the other on Colby’s and steering them away from the room. “Let us go and play. We should let River recover, aye?”
“I’d rather stay here, with her.”
It was the first time Colby had spoken that morning, and his tone was full of determination, but River was quick to shake her head.
“Ye go and enjoy the day,” she told them. “And in a few days, I’ll be out there with ye again.”
“Do ye promise?” Colby asked.
And River, because she didn’t have the heart to tell him anything else, said, “Of course I promise.”
River gave the children a reassuring smile, and after one final nod from Colby, the two of them left the room, followed by Layla. Then, it was only Finlay and River there, and she couldn’t help but shrink under his scrutinizing gaze.
“Ye look unwell,” he said, which was certainly not news to her. “But this is naethin’ like any cold I’ve ever seen. Has the healer seen ye yet?”
“I havenae called him,” said River, and she expected the unimpressed, stern look Finlay gave her. “Finlay, I didnae wish to worry anyone. I didnae think it was so important, I thought I must have eaten somethin’.”
“Do ye still think that now?” asked Finlay.
River shook her head. If it was something she had eaten, she would have started feeling better already. The first symptoms had begun to appear several days prior, and so she doubted it had to do with food.
“Then shall I call him now?”
River nodded. It was wise, she thought, to have Jenson see her now, maybe give her something that would settle her stomach enough for her to eat. Quietly, Finlay left the room and River heard him give an order to a passing guard, telling him to call Jenson, before coming back inside.
Her illness was timed rather unfortunately, River thought, and she wished she could share her concerns with Finlay, but she didn’t want to tell the man anything that Archer might not want him to know.
It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him—quite the contrary.
There was no one River trusted more than Finlay, since she had spent all her life around him and he knew him as well as she knew herself.
But Archer wanted to keep everything about his condition a secret, and she had to respect that.
Of course, that also meant she had to suffer in silence.
“Daenae fash,” said Finlay, perhaps sensing that she had become even more upset. “The man will be here soon.”
“I’m alright,” River said, not for the first time that day. “It’s just…I have a lot in me mind.”
“Such as?”
River hesitated. “Och, I daenae ken. Perhaps this illness is makin’ me overthink everythin’.”
“Illnesses tend to do that,” said Finlay. “But ye come to terms with it in the end.”
River let out a humorless laugh. “Ye make it sound as if I’ll be like this for the rest of me life,” she said, and then suddenly, her eyes widened and her head snapped to the side to stare at him in horror. “Do ye think I’ll be like this for the rest of me life?”
“Nay, nay,” said Finlay with a soft snort, as if her terror amused him. “River, of course nae. Ye’ll be fine. The healer will ken what to do.”
I certainly hope so. If Jenson doesnae ken, who will?
For a while, she and Finlay sat there in silence, she in bed, staring at the ceiling as she tried to fight off the nausea, and Finlay pacing up and down the room until River feared she would wear off the wood on the floor.
Then, River heard a knock on the door, followed by the sound of vaguely familiar, slow and unsteady footsteps as Jenson entered the room.
The old man was wearing his usual clothes, the scent of his concoctions and medicine clinging to the woolen vest he wore. He approached the bed with a soft hum, bent over as if burdened physically by the years he had been alive, his rheumy eyes staring curiously at River.
“Well, well…what seems to be the problem, me lady?”
“She’s nae eatin’,” said Finlay before she could speak. “She’s nauseous and she cannae get out of bed.”
“I see,” hummed Jenson. “And how long has she been like this?”
“A few days now,” said River. “It began very suddenly. I thought I must have eaten somethin’.”
“Nae one else has gotten ill,” said Jenson, which confirmed what River had thought. “Let us see…what other symptoms do ye have?”
The old man approached the bed even more, dragging a chair from the corner of the room closer to River. He plopped himself down on it with some difficulty, though despite his weakened appearance and his advanced years, he was more sprightly than people tended to think.
River hummed thoughtfully as she racked her brain for any clue that might reveal what it was that was plaguing her.
“Naethin’ specific,” she said with a small shrug. “Other than the nausea and the fatigue, I cannae think of anythin’ else.”
“May I?” Jenson asked, pointing at the covers that River had pulled over her. She nodded, and Jenson gently lifted them past her knees, his fingers gently pressing against her stomach. “Is there any discomfort?”
“Nae more than expected,” River said. “Only pressure.”
Jenson continued to poke and prod at her, asking her how she felt every now and then. In the end, he sat back in his seat and stared at her in silence for a long while.
Throughout it all, Finlay had been standing just over the man’s shoulder, watching him carefully, his gaze shifting back to River every now and then, as if to ensure she was still alright.
“Me lady…when was the last time ye had yer courses?” Jenson asked in the end, and River’s face heated immediately. She sputtered for a moment, her brain caught between trying to remember the date and trying to cover up for the fact while Finlay was there.
“River…answer the man,” Finlay barked, now suddenly much more serious.
“I…I…”