Tharios steps into the room, his hand entwined with Viala’s. “Gerault. I was planning to find you soon. May I speak to you freely in the present company, or would you prefer a private conversation about your health?”
His health? Rominy frowns. Does Tharios sense something wrong with Father?
The thought sends Rominy’s heart racing, and he tries to breathe evenly.
“I will leave you to your work,” Viala says softly in Elvish, if Rominy understood correctly, but when she tries to pull away, Tharios draws her to his chest instead andsays something to her in Lothlesian. Then he presses his forehead to hers as her eyes slide shut, and Rominy looks away. This is a private moment. He doesn’t need to watch them.
When the door closes, Tharios turns back to Father.
“I have nothing to hide from my son,” Father says. “Should I be worried about my health?”
“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to alarm you. Either of you. Your daughter brought it to my attention that you suffer from something humans call rheumatism. I’d like to heal that while you’re here if you’ll permit me, at least for a time. If you have no objection, I’d also like to examine you more closely with my magic and repair some of the age-related damage to your body. I can’t stop the aging process, but I can slow it down and do my best to ensure you die of old age and not something preventable.”
Rominy gapes at Tharios, and Father doesn’t speak at first.
“I seem to have shocked you both. Forgive me for not thinking of it sooner. With Elowyn unwell, I—”
Before Tharios can finish, Father pushes himself to his feet and wraps his arms around the elf prince. “I will take whatever you’re offering if it will give me more time with my children.”
Rominy wipes at the dampness filling his eyes. Stars above. He’s going to turn into a blubbering mess again at this rate.
“Just tell me what to do,” Father says as he steps away from Tharios.
“Go ahead and sit back down.”
Father lowers himself to the chair again as Tharios observes.
“My left knee is worse than my right one. I injured it in battle the day your father almost died. It’s never been the same since.”
“They both creak, though,” Tharios says.
“You heard that?” Father chuckles. “I suppose elves have excellent hearing.”
“We do. Just relax. You’ll feel better soon. I promise.”
Father nods, and Tharios kneels beside the chair, prodding Father’s legs and occasionally closing his eyes to concentrate on whatever magic he’s doing.
“There it is,” Tharios says quietly as he probes Father’s left knee. “A small tear. You must have torn it in battle that day. Have you lived with this for thirty years?”
“I’ve spent thirty years grateful to be living at all. It seemed a small price to pay for the privilege, though I admit it’s worsened with time.”
“There. I’ve pushed it to mend itself. It may take a few days to fully heal, but take it easy, and it should be fine. I’ve also cushioned some of the wear and tear causing your knee pain. It’s not permanent, but it should limit the rubbing and reduce your pain and inflammation. When the discomfort returns, send word, and I’ll repeat the process.”
“Thank you, Tharios. I will be forever grateful for elven generosity.”
“You’re welcome. Now just relax while I examine the rest of you.”
Rominy swallows the lump in his throat as Tharios continues his ministrations.
Thirty years. Thirty years of pain, and Tharios healed it in minutes. It’s almost unfathomable.
Eventually, Tharios rises. “You are in excellent health for a human of your years. I healed some minor organ damage and took care of a suspicious but probably benign growth in your bowel. Beyond that, focus on proper nutrition and appropriate rest and exercise, and I see no reason to believe you won’t remain with us for years to come.”
Rominy blinks back more dampness from his eyes as Father takes a slow, deep breath. “I already feel better than I have in years. I am grateful, Tharios.”
“Goahead and stand. Just be gentle, especially with that left knee while it finishes healing.”
Father pushes himself up from the chair, and his throat bobs. “I forgot how that feels.”
