CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
ALYSSUM
There were very few sensations available to me the precise moment my consciousness returned.
One half of my body was scorching hot, as though I rested up against a hearth, while the other bathed in the autumn chill of the forest. There were whispers, some far away and others near, all indistinguishable from one another.
And finally, there was Vayen. I wasn’t sure how I knew it was her, given that my eyes refused to open and only a partial reality was available to my barely-there mind, but I had the distinct feeling I was floating through the air, just as I had been when we first met.
I knew, in that moment, she was carrying me.
I didn’t know where. I didn’t know how far we’d traveled, or if we’d crossed the Threshold, or if we’d both died and were in the process of ascending to the stars. But I knew that we were together, and that brought me comfort that didn’t quite make sense given all that had happened.
That was an interesting thought. What exactly had happened?
A moan slipped through my lips at the vague memory of unwavering pain and panic coursing through me in equal measure. I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t.
The world began to fade again, beckoning me into the safety of nothingness. Only Vayen’s words permeated my cocoon, the sorrow of her throaty utterance palpable even as I floated away: “I’ve got you.”
But I couldn’t find it in me to stay.
It was Catrin’s voice that pulled me back into my body.
I knew without opening my eyes that I was in a bed.
Given the familiarity of the limited surroundings I could perceive—the scent of the room, the bed linen ghosting over my skin, and the direction of the window made clear by an irksome birdsong carried on the wind—I suspected I was back in Cobble Crossing.
“You said she would make a full recovery.”
Vayen, her voice pitched with anger, muffled. They were just outside the cracked-open door, speaking in the corridor.
“And I stand by my assessment, but she should be awake by now.” Catrin. It was her, wasn’t it? I stayed very still, unwilling to move but reaching for her with my thoughts.
“Well, why isn’t she?”
“I can’t say for certain. If I had to guess… her mind is protecting itself. Maybe she’s not ready to reckon with what happened, or what she saw.”
I exhaled deeply. Catrin, indeed. Her voice was a balm to my heart.
I wanted to call out for her, but I didn’t know if I could move, and the fear that I might not be able to kept me still.
How injured was I? The memory of the pain was fresh—the arrow to my thigh, the cut to my chest. But the terror was held at bay by my denial.
The worst hadn’t happened, because I had been saved. I had been saved, I reminded myself.
I wanted to ask about the wolf. Had Vayen slain it? But my mouth refused to cooperate, and before I could manage a single sound, a deep, dreamless sleep dragged me under once more.
“Alyssum, can you hear me?”
Vayen again. I was starting to get used to the oddity of her voice pressing in on the darkness enveloping me. She visited often now, her desperate words clear in their desire to pull me from the safety of my emptiness. But I only continued to float in that faraway space.
“Come back to me. Please.”
Where am I? I wanted to respond. How do I come back?
I at least wished to see her, since she sounded so very near. It would be nice to have a visitor, to see a friendly face. For, despite her coaxing words, I felt very much alone.
Drifting, forever drifting, back down into the darkness.
I awoke with an unquenchable thirst. I peeled my eyes open, the discomfort of my mouth and throat all-consuming as I searched the bedside table for—aha!
With little regard for anything else, I pushed myself above the covers and grabbed the mug that resided there, gulping down the water with abandon.
That very moment, the door burst open, and I spilled down the front of my shift.
Vayen was sitting in a chair beside the bed before I could process her movements.
“You’re awake,” she said softly, her voice cracking under the weight of an unidentifiable emotion.
She wore light pants too large for her form, tied off at the waist to keep them from falling, and an oversized linen shirt with a deep enough V that I could see the top of the beige cloth binding her chest. Dark circles cradled her silver eyes, and disheveled curls pasted to her sweaty forehead. She looked a mess.
I nestled deeper into the bed, pulling the sheets up to cover my now-wet shift.
My braid had been removed, and pale blonde hair cascaded down my arms, notably absent the bruises I’d expected to see.
I cast a wary glance around the room to verify it was just the two of us.
There was no wolf, no Catrin. But we were indeed in Cobble Crossing.
That shouldn’t have been a comfort, yet the weight on my chest lifted slightly under the realization.
“How are you feeling?” Vayen pressed when I didn’t speak.
“I… I don’t know,” I managed. I closed my eyes with a forced, steadied inhale—in through the nose, out through the mouth.
Unthinkingly, I drew a thumb to the dip in my neck and rhythmically tapped to keep myself in the present.
I could feel my mind attempting to wander back to the forest, and the sheer terror that had consumed me, but I wouldn’t let it.
Not yet. I needed something to ground me, to make me feel safe. But what?
I bit the inside of my cheek before peeling my eyes open to look at her. Vayen. I thought I’d never see her again. But if she managed to survive…
“Are they all dead?” I asked quietly.
Her face turned cold. The hand that rested on the bed flexed, her chin dipping to her chest. All she said was, “Yes.”
I heaved a great sigh. I wasn’t exactly feeling celebratory, but I did find comfort her in her reply. All but reveling in the death of several men—what had become of me?
“Is… is the wolf dead, too?”
Vayen’s attention snapped to mine, her eyes skittering around my face as though I were a puzzle she had yet to solve. “What?”
“The wolf,” I repeated, pulling the covers tighter against me.
“When I lost consciousness, it was…” I swallowed the rest of that sentence when I realized how deranged I would sound.
The creature had mauled a man to death before my very eyes, and then put the same tongue that had been coated in his blood on my open wound.
It had to have been infected by now. I should have wrinkled my nose in disgust, but the memory of that particular sensation…
stars above, it was confusingly pleasant.
With a preparatory breath, I hooked one finger into the neckline of my shift and pulled, casting a downward glance to assess the havoc wreaked on my body.
I expected to see the gnarled gash splitting my chest in two.
Perhaps bandages, or stitches, or some sticky substance Vayen would tell me she’d fashioned from plants I’d never heard of.
Except nothing was there at all. Well, not nothing, exactly.
I could see a faint red line, as though I’d merely been scratched.
It had healed better than any wound I’d been on the receiving end of, even those that had been far more superficial.
I threw the bed linen from my body, uncaring of my impropriety as I lifted my shift to assess the thigh that had been split open by the arrow.
Its mark was more prominent than my chest’s, but still not at all close to what I would have expected.
The skin around the edges of the wound had grown tight, puckering into a pale center where I imagined a faint scar would remain.
I couldn’t have disguised my shock if my life hung in the balance. “How many days has it been?”
“Four.”
“Four days? My wounds have healed this drastically in four days?”
A scuffling of feet in the corridor drew my eye. The door pressed open further, and a full head of coiled, strawberry-blonde hair poked into view.
“Lyssa,” Catrin said, hurriedly placing the bags she carried on the table.
She approached my bed, hands clasped together, wetness gathering at the corners of her eyes.
Her lace-trimmed blouse was a faded pink with sweeping sleeves and a high collar.
Its hem disappeared beneath a pair of fitted black pants, a stark contrast to the flowing skirts I’d always seen her wear.
“Praise Naeno, you’re awake! And feeling much better, I see. ”
My heart thawed at the very sight of her.
I wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up in her arms, to unleash the torrent of emotions threatening to unravel my repression, but I wouldn’t give in to that urge.
I needed to understand what had happened to me, and—almost more importantly—what was going to happen in the future.
With a warm but decidedly small smile, I said, “I am feeling better than I should. I suppose I have you to thank for that.”
Something unspoken passed between Catrin and Vayen, their eyes connecting for a brief moment before attentions returned to me.
“What was that?”
“What was what?” Catrin pivoted on her heeled boot to retrieve a clay jar, all innocence and ease.
She sashayed over to me, uncorked the jar, and placed it directly into my hands.
“Sip this. It’s herb-infused broth that will continue to promote the healing process, reduce scarring, and keep you relaxed while you recover. ”