She paused from spooning liquid into his mouth to give him a chance to rest. And to speak, if he wanted to.
First, she should tell him what had happened since their return. “We were so worried about you. You’ve been asleep with a high fever for days now.” It felt like months. She glanced at Brielle. From her position behind his head, Levi probably hadn’t seen her. Best to let him know of her presence.
She returned her focus to him. “I don’t think you’ve officially met Brielle.”
Brielle scooted her chair and leaned in where Levi could better see her. Her face certainly didn’t match the joy radiating inside Audrey, but at least it was showing deep consideration instead of anger. “Welcome back, Monsieur Masters.”
Levi glanced at her but couldn’t seem to hold the gaze since it required his eyes opening wider. “Levi ... call me.” Even those few words seemed to exhaust him, and his eyelids drooped shut.
Audrey’s need to touch him, to soothe him with what little relief she could, overwhelmed the restraint she’d been trying to show in Brielle’s presence. She reached up and stroked the hair from his brow, running her fingernails through the locks the way he liked. She didn’t continue the motion after that first time but did let her fingertips trail down the side of his face. “Sleep a little more so you can regain your strength. I’ll be here if you need anything.”
A small bob of his chin was Levi’s only response, but the tension on his face eased.
After a long moment, Brielle rose from her chair and laid a hand on Audrey’s shoulder. “My sister made a pot of stew big enough to feed three families. She’ll bring some for your evening meal.”
Audrey nodded. “I’ll have a chance to thank her myself, then.”
Brielle held her gaze with another sad smile. “I’m glad he’s awakened.”
Though the words were right, something in her friend’s tone made Audrey’s middle tighten.
When Levi recovered, they would both have to face the council—and accept whatever punishment they set.
24
Levi couldn’t summon strength to do more than lift the spoon to his mouth, but at least he could do that much now. The day before, he’d barely been able to crack his eyes open, so this was progress. Achingly slow progress, but according to Audrey, he should be thankful he could still draw breath.
He’d never seen her so giddy, even with the constant hammering in the background. She flitted from her cookstove to her shelves to his bedside, always with a smile brightening her expression. Sometimes he even caught a soft humming as she worked by the fire—only when the hammers ceased, of course. Watching her for hours on end, joy lighting her sweet face . . . there could be no stronger inducement to regain his strength.
And to do so, he had to swallow more of this broth. His belly grumbled against the endless liquid. What he wouldn’t do for a meat pie, or something else he could sink his teeth into. But Audrey insisted he needed to work up to heartier foods, and the fact that he still possessed a slight fever seemed to be holding him back.
She turned to him with another of those sweet smiles asshe stepped toward his bed. She paused to glance toward the rear door as it opened, her expression turning to a question. Her smile reappeared. “Papa. You’re just in time. I’ve a meat stew simmering and pastry almost ready to come out of the oven.”
Levi tried to shift his head to see the man, but the adjustment sent a shock of pain through the base of his skull. He squeezed his eyes shut to quiet his body, then reopened them slowly. He hated being this weak, this fragile. Especially in front of others.
He wanted to meet Audrey’s father man-to-man, to clasp his hand and say how well he’d done raising such a remarkable woman. As it was, he could barely manage to string a few sentences together before his body wore out.
Monsieur Moreau shuffled into Levi’s view, approaching to stand by his bedside. The man studied Levi’s face for a long moment without speaking. His expression held the same gentleness Audrey’s did, yet there was a guardedness in her father. A tension that seemed almost hostile at times.
Levi struggled to find something to say, but could only manage, “Hello, sir.”
Moreau nodded in acknowledgment. “You’re feeling better?”
“I am. Trying to get my strength back.”
Audrey moved around her father and picked up the cup of water from the table she’d placed beside his bed. “He still has a bit of fever, but he’s been awake for a while now.”
She took the cup of broth from his hands and replaced it with the water. He gripped the container with both palms, so he didn’t drop it as his shaky hands lifted the vessel to his mouth.
Audrey kept her fingers on the mug’s base as he lifted, and good thing, or his trembles might have sloshed the water all over his face.
After a few sips, he lowered the cup, and she took it. “I think it’s time for you to rest again. Let me get some tea to help you sleep.”
The thought of more tea and more sleep made him want to groan, but his eyes were already drooping. He was weaker than a newborn babe.
Though the weight of Audrey’s father’s gaze still pressed upon him heavily, Levi could do nothing but fade into the darkness.
Audrey did her best to stay busy so she didn’t appear to be listening in on the conversation behind her, though they clearly weren’t trying to keep things private. Especially since they had to raise their voices over the background hammering.
