Sitting back on his heels, Niel studied her helplessly. After a moment he grabbed a blanket from the bed and tucked it around her, pulling it tight to her body. She stirred when he pressed the blanket against the side of her hips, and he froze, staring at her face for signs she was waking. But Ayla settled again.
If he had only checked on her earlier in the day. He should have gone to her when he woke. She was sick, he was certain, only because she’d tended to him. And it would be on him if she… but no; he couldn’t think about that.
Cademund had already been weak. Ayla had been strong, young, healthy. She’d be fine.
“You have to get better,” he told her quietly, his voice barely a breath. “There’s no choice, Ayla. I only just came to know you.”
He did not walk to the hall. He ran, and burst out of the doorway with his hands gripping so tight to the frame it might have splintered beneath him.
“Is anyone ware?” he called.
“Aye,” a voice called from around the hall. “Lordship?” the soldier’s head poked around the edge of the hall.
“Find Larkin,” Niel snapped. “Send him up.Now.”
Desperation
He ran back into the room and stood there, staring down at her in front of the fire. Her body rested on the furs, her skin pale and clammy and her eyes sunken. Her lips were cracked, dry from fever and lack of drink. How long had she been unconscious, how long without water? Fetching his cup from the table beside the bed, Niel filled it with clean water, cold from the pitcher, and approached where the lady lay.
“You have to sit up,” he told her, hoping she could hear him even if she didn’t answer. “And I need you to wake up, enough to drink.”
He sat and pulled her carefully up against him, leaning her sweat-damp back against his chest to keep her upright.
“Come, Ayla. I need you awake. Come back.”
She stirred again, her head turning against his sternum, and made a small sound.
“Stay with me.” Niel's heart thundered. “I just need you to take a sip. You can do that, can’t you?”
Lifting the cup to her lips, Niel held her head in place with his other hand and tipped it against her lips, letting a thin stream of water dribble into her mouth. He pressed his fingers to her neck, feeling for her swallow, terrified she wouldn’t. Her throat moved.
“Beautifully done,” he praised softly in a voice that shook. “Can you drink again for me?” For a frantic and foolish second it blazed through his mind that it was too intimate, pressing a cup to her lips and giving her drink. It was part of how they wed, in Enar, and perhaps she would not wanthimto hold the cup for her, as a new husband did to his new wife in a traditional ceremony.
But he was being an idiot. This was not a matter of romance. It was Ayla’s life, and nothing beyond that mattered. He wasn’t imitating a wedding ceremony. He was trying to make sure she fucking survived.
“Mercy.” Larkin stood in the doorway, his dark brow furrowed. The healer approached and knelt beside Niel, who looked helplessly at the lithe man, Ayla still propped up against him and encircled by his arms. Her body felt far too chilled against his.
“She was alone,” Niel said, his voice shaking with suppressed fury, at himself most of all. “In the cold. No fire. No water.”
“How long?” Larkin asked, reaching forward to place his hands on either side of her neck. Niel felt himself tense all through his body as Larkin touched Ayla. He shoved down the emotion. HeknewLarkin was trustworthy. But he didn’t like seeing anyone else’s hands on her.
“I don’t know. Perhaps as long as last night. But she’s better than Cademund was, isn’t she? She’ll be alright?”
“Perhaps.” Larkin said. “Her heart seems slow.” The healer removed his hands from her neck and pressed a palm to Ayla’s forehead.
“Perhaps?” His hands tightened around her, one arm below her breasts, the other across her clavicle. “Heal her. Do something.”
“Nobody else froze like she did. That's dangerous all on its own. She hasn’t woken at all?”
“She’s here. A little, at least.”
Larkin peeled up one of her eyelids. Ayla turned her head to the side away from the healer, who removed his hands.
“Don’t hurt her,” Niel said tersely.
“I’m just trying to get a sense of her state,” Larkin said, holding his hands up.
He needed, desperately, for Larkin to tell him all was well. That Ayla merely needed rest; that she’d be fine in a day or two.
