"Yes, my lord. Perfectly clear. Hands here—" Morrison gestured vaguely. "Roll there. Simple."
It was not, Aubrey reflected grimly, simple. But surely even Morrison could manage it with instruction.
"All right. Let's attempt it. I need to be rolled onto my right side—the uninjured side. You'll need to position yourself on my left."
Morrison moved to the left side of the bed with the coordination of a sleepwalker. He stood there for a moment, swaying slightly, staring down at Aubrey with the confused expression of a man who'd forgotten why he'd entered a room.
"Morrison?"
"Yes. Yes, of course. Turning." Morrison rubbed his face with both hands. "Where do I put my hands again?"
"One on my shoulder, one on my hip. The right hip, Morrison. The uninjured one."
Morrison reached down, his movements uncertain. His hands hovered over Aubrey for a moment before landing—one on Aubrey's chest, the other somewhere near his knee.
"Morrison, that's not—"
"Right, right, shoulder and hip." Morrison adjusted, but now both hands were on Aubrey's injured left side.
"The other side, Morrison!"
"Sorry, m'lord, still rather foggy—there we are." Morrison finally positioned his hands correctly. "Now I just... roll you?"
"Gently. On three. One... two... three."
Morrison pulled.
Or rather, Morrison yanked.
Instead of the smooth, controlled roll Eleanor achieved, Morrison hauled Aubrey toward him with all the grace of a man pulling a sack of potatoes. Aubrey's body twisted at entirely the wrong angle, his injured hip grinding against the mattress, his left leg caught beneath him at a position that sent white-hot agony shooting through his entire lower body.
Aubrey's cry of pain was involuntary and loud.
"Oh God, oh God, I'm sorry!" Morrison tried to correct his mistake by pushing Aubrey back the other direction, but that only made it worse. Aubrey was now half-twisted, his weight on his injured hip, his leg still trapped, pain radiating through him in waves so intense his vision greyed at the edges.
"Stop—don't—" Aubrey gasped, butMorrison was panicking now, trying to lift and push and pull all at once, making everything catastrophically worse.
The bedroom door burst open.
Eleanor flew into the room, her wrapper billowing behind her, her hair loose and wild around her shoulders. She took in the scene—Morrison flailing, Aubrey twisted at an agonising angle, grey-faced and gasping—and moved with decisive speed.
"Get away from him!" She shoved Morrison aside with surprising force. "What have you done?"
"I was trying to turn him! He said to roll him but then I pulled and he twisted, and I tried to fix it but—"
"Out!" Eleanor commanded. "Out, now!"
Morrison fled.
Eleanor positioned herself beside Aubrey, her hands finding exactly the right places on his shoulder and hip. "This is going to hurt," she warned. "I need to straighten you out first before I can get you into position properly."
Aubrey managed a nod, his jaw clenched tight.
"One... two... three."
She pulled him toward her with smooth, controlled strength, straightening his trapped leg in one fluid movement before rolling him fully onto his right side. The pain was excruciating for a moment—bright and sharp—but then it was over, and Aubrey was in position with pillows being tucked behind his back to support him.
He lay there gasping, sweat beading on his forehead, while Eleanor's hands moved over him, checking for new damage.
