Chapter Eight #2
Body aches, a burning throat, and a blistering headache brought upon a black mood that boiled Austin from the inside out.
He couldn’t move without groaning, couldn’t hear so much as a drop of water falling on fabric without covering his ears, and he couldn’t utter a peep that didn’t hurt him fiercely.
Austin’s wish to protect Liam from his voice had been granted by a higher power with a twisted sense of humour. All were now safe from the harm his voice could unleash.
Luckily for Tristan.
Austin forced a painful growl from his menagerie of soft blankets, but Tristan’s patience was at an end. He thrust back the covers and caught Austin by his midsection, hauling him out of bed. Austin fought him, and lost with insulting ease.
“You are starving to death.” Tristan kept his voice to a whisper.
Hours earlier, before Austin lost his voice, he’d threatened to tear out the merman’s tongue if he dared raise it above that.
Tristan wrangled Austin only a few feet away from the bed to where a couch had been brought in, placed next to a blazing fire.
The fireplace had previously been hidden behind a large tapestry, now removed, and the fire was lit in the early morning when Austin uttered his first complaint of being cold.
That little prickling shiver down his arms was now a tremble that no amount of blankets could stave off.
Tristan sat on the couch, pulled Austin onto his lap, and wrapped fire-warmed blankets around him. Austin relaxed, spared from chattering teeth for a moment. Tristan looked to the side. “Bring me that bowl.” His voice stayed low.
Aged hands offered the soup. A wary Char.
Unable to voice his objections, Austin locked his jaw. Tristan’s eyes flashed. He gestured for Char to set the bowl down and grasped Austin by the chin, guiding him so their eyes met. “You must eat.”
Austin jutted his head toward the soup and made a noise of discontent.
Tristan softened. “You can’t have bread right now. It would hurt your throat too much. It is causing you severe pain already, is it not?”
The gentle tone worked against Austin’s tired defiance. He nodded because his throat was killing him. It would be agony to put anything down it, even soup. He blinked and was humiliated when Tristan released his chin to wipe away falling tears.
“You are afraid the soup will be too much for it too?”
Galled to admit it, Austin nodded.
“I have painkillers for you, but they are not to be taken on an empty stomach, never mind one that hasn’t had a proper meal in days.
A few spoonfuls of soup first, and I will give them to you.
” Tristan kept speaking, soft and persuasive, until Austin gave in and swallowed when he raised the bowl to his lips.
The painkillers he was too grateful for to fight.
His fever receded and advanced in waves, and it lasted what felt like forever but reasonably could only have been a handful of days.
Austin and Tristan fought every hour of it, food and water abhorrent to Austin and Austin’s refusal of food and water abhorrent to Tristan.
Char and Eli drifted at the edges, bringing food and drinks, fresh cloths with warm water, stoking up the fire.
When Austin glared at the arrival of food, they would quickly shrink back and flee the room.
“Is it wise to antagonise him so?” Char asked after a particularly bitter fight over porridge. The fight had drained Austin of energy, and he lay barely conscious, cheek pillowed on Tristan’s warm chest. “When he regains his voice…”
“I will ask his forgiveness,” Tristan murmured, angling his mouth away from Austin’s ear.
The fire crackled, as if laughing.
“He doesn’t seem the forgiving type,” Char said.
Tristan’s chest shook as he chuckled. “Certainly not,” he agreed. “But what siren has ever been placid? It is not in their nature.”
A beat of considering silence.
“Everything I’ve ever read said siren’s beguile and charm—”
“He is very charming,” Tristan agreed.
Char made an impatient sound. “Yet, I have never heard about their voice hurting. Surely the way he’s using it is meant as a warning. I’m certain he wouldn’t be able to match you, but what of your brother?”
“I can’t say I share your certainty.”
“You think he’s stronger than you?”
Tristan considered the question. “He was injured on the beach. But he ordered a ghoul to kill itself, and the thing obeyed. It was too young a ghoul to understand speech, and yet…” There was an admiring note in the merman’s voice, as if such acts of violence were beguiling.
“If that is his strength when injured, then once recovered, he is likely to be stronger than Hal, yes. As for myself…I suppose after this, there is every chance I’ll be finding that out soon enough. ”
Char groaned. “I do wish you would spare a thought for your estate, lad.” His stately speech disintegrated entirely. “Your staff are all terrified of him.”
“Rightly so.”
“And speaking of, what about the matter I brought to your attention?”
“You will have to be more specific.”
“The attendant who snuck in. The men I actually sent for finally arrived. I gather our imposter locked them all in the basement and took their place. Inx has him confined in one of the bedrooms. Will I send him to the city courts, or would you like to deal with him?”
“You can let him out,” Tristan said. “And send off the others. I believe Austin likes him.”
“…you do?”
“If I’m wrong, I’m sure I will be told in short order.”
Char sighed. “Fine. I hope your father doesn’t find out someone’s caught your eye. He’ll go from writing letters about the Zatic princess to knocking our door down about it.”
Tristan’s snort was derisive. “The man is consistent, if nothing else.”
“If Eloise is right about the ghoul numbers then his attempts to get you north will only persist.” Char sighed. “I worry what he’ll do if you continue to ignore his summons.”
“Send more?” Tristan asked, clearly unconcerned. “Remember his other son and try to persuade him instead?”
“Your brother has even less interest in the north than you.”
“Indeed.”
“Prince Hal’s sent for you again, by the way. Apparently, he got his hands on a book detailing an ancient judicial system he’d like to try out, and he wants you to train the guard on the new—or rather, ancient—ways.”
“I’m busy.”
“Exceptionally busy,” Char replied dryly. “He sent a copy of the book.”
Tristan let out an amused huff. “Of course. Bring it here, then. I’ll take a look.”
“Prince Hal mentioned the monarch in his letter too.”
Austin’s pillow stiffened.
“He’s circling.”