Chapter 53 The Recovery
The Recovery
The chamber is quiet by the time they sleep. Ari has not moved. Kiss took longer, her small restless sounds giving way slowly until her body went soft, her hand still curled against the blanket as though she might reach again if she woke.
I watch them longer than I should. Then I stand.
The bath has been drawn, steam lifting from the surface in slow curls. I step in carefully, lowering myself with more attention than I would like to admit. The pull through my abdomen lingers and then eases once I am still.
The door opens behind me.
Colsar does not speak as he enters, removing what remains of his clothing as he crosses the room, slower than he would have been before.
I watch him. The marks remain, faint bruising along his ribs, a deeper line at his shoulder where the skin has not fully returned to itself.
The Fyrekin healing had taken most of what the undead left behind, he had told me, but not all of it.
And layered over those older marks, newer ones, the bruising and abrasions from his fight with Teorin still visible beneath the surface.
He steps into the bath behind me.
The water moves around us and his hand comes to my side immediately, then pauses at the bandages.
"You should not be in this."
"The healer said they will hold."
"That does not mean I like it."
A quiet breath leaves him. His fingers adjust the edge of the wrap anyway, careful and checking. I let him.
Then I reach for the cloth. "Lean forward."
He does, without hesitation. I work slowly, rinsing the last of the blood from his hair and from the edge of his scalp, my fingers following after, pressing lightly, easing what I feel held there. His head lowers further and the tension in him shifts.
After a moment he speaks. "Before I left Veynar," he says, his voice quieter now, "I told Sevrin I was coming for his throne."
My hands pause briefly. "Did you mean it?"
"Yes."
I resume the slow movement through his hair. "You still mean it, do you not?"
"Yes."
"Good."
He lifts his head slightly at that. "You expected otherwise?"
"I expected you might decide Shalvar was enough," I say. "Especially with your father's push for you to be Sovereign."
"It is not enough."
I meet his eyes. "Then we are aligned."
"We always were."
"Which means you cannot go to Veynar only for revenge."
His jaw tightens. "I cannot go and not seek it."
"You can. Because taking the throne is bigger than that. Kiss is a feeder. If she is to inherit, she needs a crown that holds."
A pause. Then, "Mysin."
"He will die when I get to Veynar, if Sevrin has not done it already. But not carelessly. The documents we made the baron sign gave me his coffers, but his title and legacy will still pass to Mysin. There may still be political consequences."
"I do not care," Colsar says. "He must die."
I nod. "He must."
"And Yvara?"
"She knew." The words come simply. "Her kindness that day was a performance and I knew it and believed it anyway." I look at him. "I do not know yet if I will kill her. But I will take the thing she wants most."
He holds my eyes. "The throne."
"The throne," I agree.
"If we return," I add, quieter now, "it will not be to survive it again. It will be to control it. But not blindly. We give them something they cannot argue with first."
He watches me. "What are you suggesting?"
"We have Kiss named heir. Now. While Sevrin still holds it. Something that stabilizes the line before we ever touch the throne."
Silence, but it is not resistance. It is calculation.
"You think he would agree to that?"
"No. I think we make it so that refusing costs him more than accepting."
"And when I take the throne?"
"You rule. She remains the future they cannot dispute. It strengthens your claim, especially where Morrath is concerned. She is a feeder. Her brother inherits Shalvar. Her place was always meant to be in Veynar.”
"They will say she has too many ties to other kingdoms."
“Then we answer it.” My hand rests against his chest. “I bear the mark of Forizan. We produced two heirs in less than a year. Sevrin has no heir, and his ability to father one is questionable. Your father may have legitimized him, but the fact remains he was born illegitimate and only sits the throne because you have allowed it. As for Teorin, not only is he illegitimate, but he comes from an enemy bloodline and has never been formally acknowledged by the Rathmor court.”
Silence stretches between us, but it is no longer uncertain.
Then, "Yes."
It is decided.
I study him. "Say it."
"What?"
"What we are doing."
A pause. Then, "We will rest. I will stabilize things here in Shalvar. You will recover. And then we take Veynar."
"Yes," I say.
My hand moves from his neck to his jaw and his comes up to meet mine, his thumb brushing lightly across my skin before he leans in. The kiss is slow and deep, and when he pulls back his forehead rests briefly against mine.
"I love you," he says quietly.
"I know," I answer. "I love you too."
Nothing else exists. Only this, and the understanding that when whatever comes next arrives, we will face it together.
Three weeks pass before I stop expecting him to be beside me when I wake.
His place is always already cool by the time I reach for it. Kiss stirs first each morning, her body already searching. Ari does not wake. He never does. I ask for Colsar once, briefly, before the healer arrives.
"His Majesty is in council."
I nod and let it pass.
The healer's hands move with quiet precision, unwrapping, examining, rewrapping. "You are healing well," she says.
"I would like to be healed faster."
"The healing pools. At least once daily. They will accelerate what your body is already doing." She pauses, glancing at the twins. “It is not a failure to step away for a short time. Your body still requires care if you expect it to hold for them."
The words sit differently than instruction. Something closer to permission.
"I will consider it," I say.
She steps back. "You will be fully healed. The question is how quickly you decide that matters."
Then she leaves.
I dress and go. The hidden corridors are still, the turns familiar enough now that I move without thinking.
I find him once, not directly, voices carrying through an open threshold ahead.
The Sovereign and others, maps spread across a long table, Colsar standing over it with one hand braced against the wood, already inside something I am not part of.
I do not interrupt. Back in the chamber the children sleep. I send for him once and he does not come. I send again.
"He is still occupied."
I sit at the table with a blank sheet of parchment in front of me and do not write on it. We had already decided. Shalvar. Then Veynar. I do not understand why it feels as though I am the only one moving forward.
When he finally enters the light has shifted into evening. He looks tired and pulled in too many directions.
"You should be resting," he says.
"I have been."
He looks at me carefully. “How are you?"
"Better. The healer says the pools will accelerate it."
"They are not necessary."
"They are if I want to be healed quickly."
Silence.
"I was thinking you could come with me," I say.
"To the pools?"
“Yes. They are not entirely public. Not if you do not want them to be."
"No."
Something in me goes very still. "Why?"
"Because I do not have time." There is no apology in his tone. Just fact.
"We need to talk about Veynar."
"We will."
"When?"
"Soon."
"That is not an answer."
"It is the only one I have right now."
Silence stretches between us, not hostile, but misaligned in a way that has been building for weeks.
"Then I will wait," I say.
His jaw tightens slightly. "I will come find you when I am free."
"I know." I do. That has never been the problem.
He crosses to the children, adjusting the blanket at Ari's side, his hand brushing briefly over Kiss without waking her.
"I will not be long."
I nod. He leaves. The door closes.
The room returns to itself. I reach for the parchment. I do not write, not yet. We are supposed to do this together.
So I wait.