Chapter 18 #2
The fae’s body looks as if he could blow away in a slight breeze. Something as small as lifting a spoon could prove monumental for him, but I fully believe in bodily autonomy, and I’m not just going to assume he needs help eating.
“Would you like some help?” I ask gently, holding up the bowl of black bean soup in offering. This time, there’s no hesitation. He gives a small, weary nod.
Taking that as his consent, I inch closer and carefully lift a spoonful to his lips.
He accepts it, swallowing slowly, as though even that simple action takes great effort.
My heart aches watching him struggle, unsure what I’ll do if he can’t manage another bite.
But then he gives a faint nod and parts his lips again, ready for more.
With quiet relief, I offer him another spoonful, glad to provide whatever comfort I can.
We fall into an easy rhythm, going at the pace the man sets. Companionable silence settles over us. Not once does the door open, revealing family members or friends. He’s truly all alone, which makes this moment all the more significant.
Would he have eaten if I never checked on him? How often does this man eat? Because it’s clearly not enough. And according to my new fae family, he’s unlikely to eat much more until we break this curse.
If we break this curse.
I push those dark thoughts away, concentrating on feeding the man. He manages to consume more than half the bowl, which I take as a win. His complexion seems to have improved, and I swear there’s a new rosiness to his cheeks. Or maybe that’s just my eyes playing tricks on me.
“I hope you liked it. There’s a little bit more left. I’m going to leave it right next to your bed in case you get hungry later.” I put the bowl back on the tray, angling it closer toward him so he might be able to reach it when he grows hungry again.
I don’t expect him to speak. So when a raw, hushed voice breaks the silence, I freeze.
“Thank… you.”
I stare, stunned. He spoke.
His words aren’t as delayed as before, though each one still sounds like it costs him. “I’m… Jameson.”
“Jameson,” I offer him a smile, “it’s lovely to meet you. Thank you for having a meal with me.” Technically, he was the only one eating, but it counted all the same.
Jameson’s eyes flutter closed, a deep sigh leaving his body. “Please come…again.”
His words pierce my heart, stealing the breath from my lungs. I had hoped to be wrong about Jameson. That he did have family, but they just couldn’t be there. But if he’s asking me, a complete stranger, to come back and see him, the likelihood of him having anyone else is slim.
“Of course I’ll come back. I’ll bring something new for you to try the next time,” I vow, hoping there’s enough food for more meals and that he’ll be alive the next time I see him. It’s a sobering thought.
Jameson doesn’t speak this time. The soft rise and fall of his chest tell me he’s fallen asleep. Not wanting to disturb him, I quietly stand up and leave the room.
The moment I enter the hallway, I nearly collide with Niko and Zephyr. As usual, Zephyr is wearing a disinterested frown, while Niko grins. “There you are. Everything okay?”
“Just helping Jameson eat. He really needed the meal.”
“Ah, yes. Jameson is worse off than the rest. He’s one of the first to be exposed to the sickness, and the person who has suffered through the curse the longest. It’s a cruel fate that the sickness has not taken him out of his misery yet.”
I inwardly cringe at his words. “That’s horrible. I can’t even imagine.” Suddenly, that one meal isn’t enough. I want to do more. Need to do more.
A yawn escapes my lips.
I can’t be useful tired. Zephyr seems to catch on to my fatigue before Niko. “Your betrothed needs rest. We’ve kept her up long enough.” From anyone else, his words would appear concerned. But since it’s Zephyr, he seems mildly irritated by my tiredness.
Is there anything that doesn’t irritate the man?
“Right,” Niko agrees, reaching for my hand.
A flash of something like possessiveness crosses Zephyr’s features when Niko takes my hand, but he quickly dons his mask again. Disappointment coats my tongue.
“I promised I’d come back and visit. I would also like to continue to cook for the patients, if that’s possible.” I let Niko lead me down the hallway, presumably toward the castle.
“Then it shall be done. Bed first.”
A shiver passes through me, but it isn’t from the cold. It’s the lingering echo of everything I’ve witnessed today—the poisoned land, the haunting eyes of the Nephilim, the weight of a destiny I never asked for.
The sick fae we’re leaving behind.
I follow Niko and Zephyr in silence, the warmth of their presence the only thing keeping me from unraveling completely.
When we reach my door, they each take a moment to look at me—really look at me—and in their eyes, I see concern wrapped in something deeper, something unspoken.
Zephyr offers me a tight-lipped smile, and Niko squeezes my hand, promising they’ll check on me in the morning.
I nod, unable to trust my voice, afraid, if I speak, the fragile hold I have on my emotions will snap.
As soon as the door closes behind me, the weight of my responsibilities creeps in like a tide.
I stumble to the bed, still wearing the clothes from today, and sink onto the mattress.
The moment my head hits the pillow, the exhaustion finally wins.
Sleep wraps around me like a cloak, and I let it take me, grateful for the escape, even if only for a little while.