Chapter 21
The next fortnight or so of Imogen’s life was strange. Not bad, just strange. Full of new things, situations, and experiences.
First and foremost, she had not just one but five manticores living with her. Not always all at once or within the cottage, but there were always lion-men coming and going. Of course, Balar was a constant presence by her side, always there to cater to her every need and whim.
This time around, she wasn’t so overwhelmed by it.
Perhaps it was because of just how much help she needed in the days following her fever.
Although it broke only a day after Sofie began her treatments, Imogen was still consigned to bed to rest. Weak and tired, she’d little choice but to leave the care of her little herd and farm up to Balar and his brothers.
While she might’ve considered this an affront before, somehow, knowing that Balar had it handled was a kind of relief.
Or perhaps it was different this time because Balar treated her with the utmost care and gentleness. He looked upon her like she was something precious, something worth caring for. No heated looks or innuendos or evening winking. Which was fine. Just fine.
He spent every night in the main room of the cottage, contorting himself onto the sofa. Even after Sofie declared Imogen was out of danger and packed up her healer’s bag, Balar kept his post.
He was there in the morning to carry her out to the armchair and feed her breakfast. He was there to change her bandages, after careful instruction from Sofie, administer poultices, and coax foul-tasting tonics and medicine down her throat.
He was there in the evenings to prepare supper, keeping her company and entertaining her until it was time to tuck her securely into bed.
He was even there in the middle of the night when she woke needing a cup of water or to use the chamber pot.
Through it all, he was as stalwart as he was gentle, as dedicated as he was kind. Imogen couldn’t have asked for better care.
And yet, there were times she felt a niggle of unease in her belly. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, only that he sometimes avoided looking her in the eye.
Was he upset? Tired? Unhappy? She couldn’t tell, and it was beginning to bother her.
There hardly seemed a good time to bring it up, though.
Sometimes, she was half-convinced she imagined it.
But then she’d catch him with a sort of long look on his face, one that gave her pause.
Even when he hid it behind kind smiles and sweet words, Imogen couldn’t help feeling like he was burdened by his thoughts.
Whenever she asked over him, if he was sleeping and eating enough, he brushed aside her worries. “You need only think of yourself. I promise I’m well, urisá.”
Imogen nodded slowly the next time he said just that, unconvinced. “What does that mean?” she blurted. “Urisá?”
His golden brows rose in surprise, making Imogen blush. She hadn’t asked about his mantii words before. What she knew already she’d learned from one of his many bouts of storytelling, particularly during their early courting days.
Balar’s expression became tender in a way that almost had tears pricking her eyes.
“It is what we call someone dear to us. Someone we have affection for.” He thought a moment. “Like your darling or sweetheart.”
Oh. Imogen twisted her fingers in her lap. He’d been calling her that for a long time now. And whatever he might be upset about, he still called her that, at least.
It was a few days after her fever had broken that Neomi came to the cottage. Sorcha and Orek had taken Sofie back to town just the day before, as Imogen, Chestnut, and the goats were all doing well, so it was several manticores who greeted Neomi.
Imogen heard her before she saw her. Leaning to the side in the armchair, she tried to peek out the front door, which the brothers had taken to keeping open when the weather wasn’t poor.
It helped keep the cottage from feeling too cramped, and Shadow enjoyed getting to come in and out on his own whim.
Imogen heard a bit of discussion out in the meadow, a woman’s voice interjecting between the deep rumble of manticores. Finally, Neomi broke through the wall of tawny muscle, marching into the cottage with several sheepish manticores jogging at her heels.
Neomi took in the sight of Imogen, resting comfortably in her armchair by the fire, and Balar in the kitchen, hands white with flour as he kneaded a huge roll of dough. Her sister blinked, processing what she saw, before rushing to Imogen and falling to her knees.
“Genny! I’m so sorry, I’m sorry for everything!” Grabbing Imogen’s hands, Neomi buried her face in the blanket on Imogen’s lap.
“Genny?” Diar repeated with a snort.
One foul look from Imogen shut him up. He gulped, his ears flattening to his head, and he made himself scarce.
Patting her sister’s head, Imogen said, “I’m all right, Neomi, really. They’ve been taking good care of me.”
Neomi continued to cry, her shoulders shaking. Surprised by the outpouring of emotion, she turned to Balar in the kitchen to ask, “Could we have a moment?”
“Of course. Let me just put this away to prove.”
As Imogen stroked her sister’s hair, Balar went about covering the dough and putting it away. He wiped his hands, stopped to kiss the top of her head, and then pushed Akila and Kiri out the front door before him, closing it behind them.
Alone in the cottage, Imogen waited for Neomi to find her words.
“I’m sorry,” Neomi finally sniffed. “I was just so worried and I…” Straightening, she smoothed out the wrinkles she’d made in the blanket. “This is a fine thing. Is it new?”
Imogen blushed. “Balar gave it to me.” It’d quickly become her favorite. Soft and luxurious, she sat in the armchair during the day with it on her lap and slept in bed with it at night.
Neomi smiled through her tears. “He’s good to you?”
“Very good.” Imogen couldn’t help a rueful smile. “He’s far more patient than I am.”
“Good. You deserve someone like that, someone kind and patient.” Neomi squeezed her hands.
“That’s what I should’ve been to you. I’m so sorry—I’ve done nothing but regret what I said to you.
And when you didn’t come back for days and days, I thought…
” Neomi shook her head. “When Akila came and told me what’d happened, I was frightened to death for you.
I’m sorry I haven’t come sooner; I came as soon as I could. ”
Imogen nodded along, deciding to take the apology that was there. She could quibble about why Neomi hadn’t come herself if she felt so badly. She could wonder what kept her for several days even after hearing the news.
But Imogen didn’t. There were things she didn’t know about Neomi, things that had long troubled her, it seemed.
She thought it was time they made things right.
“About what you said…” Imogen squeezed Neomi’s hands. “Will you tell me more?”
Neomi’s inhale was shaky and wet, and for a moment, Imogen didn’t think she’d admit much. However, after another breath, Neomi began to explain. Her words came haltingly at first, as if she didn’t dare speak too loudly of it.
She told Imogen of how, despite years of being married and sharing a bed, she and Collin hadn’t successfully had a child.
Not for lack of wanting or trying, but year after year, it just didn’t happen.
The most that had ever happened was a brief pregnancy that lasted only two months.
After that, she and Collin had hardly touched or spoken for half a year.
Neomi assured her that Collin was a good man. That things were better now, they were trying again. That they loved each other, touched each other.
But Imogen wasn’t sure she believed it. And not just because of her low opinion of Collin.
She didn’t believe it because of how Neomi spoke of Collin’s family, his mother Ada especially.
Ada wanted a grandchild. She had other children of her own who could provide her with them, but Collin was her eldest, special.
Every chance she got, she was asking Neomi about their tactics, pushing foul-tasting remedies on her, and giving her more and more outlandish advice.
Every time her courses came, Neomi despaired. Ada would hate her that much more. Collin would surely come to resent her, if he didn’t already.
“I’m sorry, Neomi. I didn’t know.” Her sister’s struggles didn’t minimize Imogen’s own, nor excuse Neomi’s hurtful words, but they did help her understand.
For so long, she’d thought everything was perfect for Neomi.
It was an easy dichotomy to make—Imogen, the blemished, outcast sister and Neomi, the beautiful, beloved sister.
The role of the outcast, the unloved, was easy to inhabit for Imogen. It’d become comfortable.
But it also became confining.
Imogen wasn’t a victim and she wasn’t…unloved.
Her parents loved her. Neomi loved her. Her animals loved her.
Balar…
“I didn’t want to say anything,” said Neomi. “It’s my burden.”
“Burdens are lighter when you share them,” Imogen said.
“You sound like mama.”
“Well, she was usually right.”
Neomi sighed. “But you always feel everything so keenly. I didn’t want to trouble you. And you already dislike Collin—I don’t want there to be bad feeling between you.”
“I’m your elder sister. It’s my duty to look out for you.”
“And that’s why I didn’t say.” Neomi smiled sadly. “You shouldn’t have to protect me. Especially not from my own husband. I’m a grown woman.”
“Yes, but you can always come to me. You know that, right? You can rely on me.”
“I know, Gen. I know that.” Reaching up, Neomi threw her arms around Imogen in a fierce hug. “I’m glad you’re my sister. I want to be a better one to you.”
Imogen squeezed her sister tight. “Have you thought about talking to Sofie Brádaigh? She’s an excellent healer and may have some ideas.”
Neomi groaned into Imogen’s shoulder. “I don’t think I could bear the embarrassment.”