Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Mira”—the voice an aching plea as warmth cradles me. I writhe in pain and stiffness, cold tiles beneath my body. Overwhelmingly fragrant, perfumed air fills my lungs as I fight my way to consciousness.
“Mira, my darling”—each word pained with concern.
“Vale.” His name rasps in my throat as I blink my eyes open. Saffron hues color the room. I twist my body, his hold never wavering.
“What… what happened… where…”
I push myself up, my arm giving out beneath me. He catches me as I falter. I flex my fingers, my legs—anything in an attempt to regain control of the moment, of myself.
I barely register the sight of the conservatory as he lifts me, standing with me draped in his arms. Feeling safe in his hold, I give up this futile fight for understanding.
I let my head fall heavy against his chest. The sound of his ragged breathing and beating heart gives enough peace for me to surrender and slip back into the darkness that holds me so tightly.
The rise and fall of my chest and distant voices are the first things I register when I stir again.
The low, steady rhythm of Vale’s voice, along with others.
I am surrounded by warmth all around, but there is a chill deep within me I can’t quite shake.
I can’t even muster his name—only a meager sigh that stops the conversation.
I feel the weight of him next to me. His hand cups my own. Another presses a damp cloth to my forehead. So cold, and so hot. I cannot make heads nor tails of what is happening inside me, around me. The room is too full. Too loud. I want to crawl out of my own skin.
I open my eyes, slight slivers allowing me to see that I am in my chambers. In my bed. Vale seated beside me, more fear and worry etched on his face than I had ever seen.
My head rolls across the pillow, not by any directed movement of my own.
The daylight from the window stings my eyes; a figure in silhouette finally comes into view.
Soria. She is there, pressing the cloth.
Also looking worried. I hear the door shut, but I can’t be bothered to question by whom or to what end.
Deep ache envelops every fiber of my being. I feel as though I might burst out all at once or recoil within myself entirely.
More darkness.
More voices.
I can hear them but not their words. Vale is still there. Soria too. The others—so many others. I cannot name them. A comforting caress across my arm soothes me, and I feel my shoulders sink back into the bed, even as tightly bound as they feel. Something presses to my lips.
“Mira, I need you to drink. Please.”
I part my lips, the flesh pulling apart in an uneasy tear. The dryness in my mouth is now coated with a warm, earthy concoction. If not for Vale’s command and my vow to the man I love, I may have been lost to the darkness. Bitterness follows, and I choke out a cough.
“There, there,” Soria murmurs, still flanking the other side. Still? Again? How much time has passed? I try to gauge the amount of light as my eyes flutter, but even that is too great a task for my weakened state.
In fact, by the time I finally regain any real semblance of awareness, fire’s glow holds the room in quiet surrender.
My head rolls listlessly across the pillow as I awaken. My shift clings damply against my skin. When had I changed?
There by the fire, sitting in the armchair by the hearth—much like he had the night he asked me to stay—elbows perched atop his knees, he cradles his head in his hands, reaching one up to grab at the pain in his neck.
The sight of him makes me want to reach out. The heaviness in my arm as I lift it toward him is slight, yet somehow enough to catch his eye. His posture shifts immediately as he hurriedly moves to my side.
A dry rasp is all that escapes my mouth when I try to speak.
“Soria, water—now!” His voice trembles as much as it resonates. Soria emerges from just beyond my view, passing the glass to him. He cradles my head in one hand, lifting it just enough for the water to cool my throat.
“What happened?” My whisper draws notable relief in them both.
Soria is the first to speak. “A fever, my dear. You’ve been out the whole day and into the night. The healers have never seen one quite so severe. Of course, the healers have not tended to your….”
Kind. The word she delicately avoids. My weak mortal, human kind. I avert my eyes, as if that might hide the human weakness they all so gently pretend not to see.
I barely notice as Soria steps back. Did Vale signal for her to go? I feel him adjusting the blanket over me—a tender move that doesn’t completely hide his concern. His shoulders sag low.
“I was so worried I might….” More words unsaid. I hate all this discomfort around me.
I shift my arms along my sides and force myself up. It takes all my strength just to sit back against the pillows. Every muscle in my body is on fire. Vale stands, his hands hovering helplessly around me—reaching, but unsure what to do.
“It’s no use.” My voice catches and scrapes in my throat. His brow puckers exactly as I’d hoped. “As strong as you are, you’ll never be able to save me from my own stubbornness.” Even through the fractured breaking of my words, he hears me.
The laugh he gives is small, but enough for me to feel my endeavor a success. He may not be any less worried about me, but even that small dose of humor might show him I am still me. I am still here.
It must be the middle of the night.
Soria returns with two figures alongside her, both still rubbing sleep from their eyes. The wrinkles across their clothing make me wonder if they dressed in a hurry in the dark or slept in their clothes from the day.
A man leads the charge, a woman close behind him carrying a bag he ushers her to bring quickly.
“How is the patient?”
The man’s aged voice indicates his years even beyond his appearance. I may never get used to how young even the ancient appear. His grey hair is somewhat disheveled as he brushes it back, leaning in to look at me.
“Her personality is intact,” Vale says, with a charm that makes my mouth upturn in the faintest smile as the man presses his hand to my forehead.
“Has the fever passed?”
“Aye, it would seem so. Bring me a lantern.” The man barks at the woman. She returns, and he peers more deeply into my eyes as the light burns against my vision. “Good, yes—very good.” Then comes the barrage of questions.
Do I know my name? I do.
Do I know what happened? I don’t.
How do I feel? Awful.
Apparently that is a good sign. “Pain means the body is still communicating with you—still fighting. Healing. Very good indeed.” He turns to the woman, her curled hair even more wild than his own and only subtly streaked with grey.
“Same remedy, thrice a day.” He turns to Soria.
“And whatever her stomach might handle as soon as possible. She’ll either turn up the simplest broth or eat everything in sight.
I’ll expect to know which when I return.
Keep resting, dear. Your strength should return soon.
” He rises, and the nurse passes a satchel to Soria.
Vale shakes his hand. They speak quietly enough that I can’t tell what transpired. A mutual reassurance, perhaps.
Figures scatter. All but Vale. He sits even closer now.
Soria opens the window, and cool night air pours in. Moonlight lines the blanket across me like the silver thread of my gown.
The gown. The solstice.
“When did you return?” I ask Vale weakly, more pained from his absence than from what transpired since.
“This morning, just before dawn. I’m so sorry I was late, I’m so sorry….” I lift my hand to his cheek, my thumb gently caressing the scruff of his beard.
“It’s alright. You’re here now.” Tears sting the corners of my eyes, too feeble to temper my rising emotions.
“You have to stop doing that,” he insists—there’s a playful, loving tone to the scolding.
“What?”
“Worrying about me. I am fine. It nearly broke me when I found you lying there, but… I’m fine. Let’s focus on you. Porridge or broth?”
I look at him, confused—then recall the words. The same ones I used toward him when he was in such dire straits.
I laugh.
“I’d say I could eat a horse, but I don’t want to worry Bracken.” That alone is enough to ease him at last.
Soria flits about as she so often does, bringing a fresh cup of the same warm herbal brew from before.
The taste hits even more sharply now that I am lucid.
It feels like only a moment before a knock at the door, and Soria approaches with a tray.
Broth—and yes, even porridge. Alongside cured meats and aged cheeses, bread and fresh butter. A bounty of fruits.
I partake in it all.
The healer was correct. The first spoonful of broth ignites something in my belly. Not just hunger. Need.
The need to feel alive, to taste, to be. Now that I am awake, my hunger is insatiable. When I bite into a fresh strawberry, I let out a moan. It is divine.
Vale’s smile broadens, and I feel a flush at the attention he casts my way.
With my belly full, I feel my body start to ease. I sink into the pillows, my head resting against his arm now that he has moved to sit beside me on the bed. “You should rest, little flame,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
“I don’t want to close my eyes,” I whisper, the words trailing as I yawn.
He shifts slightly, reaching to the table beside the bed—to the book I had left there. Tales I turned to in his absence when sleep proved too elusive.
He reads to me until I drift once more.
When I wake, the sun is warm. He remains at my side, the book sitting on his lap, his eyes opening as I move. We’ve made it to morning.
And for the first time in days, I believe I might still have a future.