The doctor came and went, leaving behind nothing but the acrid bite of camphor and the hollow shell of his reassurances.
My prognosis, he’d murmured to Sylum, was favorable.
A mild concussion, nothing more.
Rest was all I needed.
Rest.
Everyone always wanted me to rest. As though stillness could soothe the roiling unease inside my skull. As though sleep could quiet the clamor behind my eyes.
I remained silent for most of his examination, feeling Sylum’s gaze on me the entire time. He said very little, though his silence was a language unto itself—the tight set of his jaw, the furrow between his brows, the careful distance in his voice when he finally asked, “She’ll recover fully?”
The doctor assured him I would.
I wasn’t so certain.
The following days blurred together in shades of gray and candlelight. Sylum came to me in the evenings, his presence like a soft shadow at the edge of my consciousness. His touch was gentle when he brushed my hair back, his lips even gentler when they pressed to my brow. But his eyes, those deep, kind eyes, were full of something I couldn’t bear to see.
Not guilt.
Pity.
He looked at me now as one might look upon a wounded bird. As if I were something fragile and half-broken.
I hated it.
Meals were brought to my room, each one growing colder before I could stomach more than a few bites. Nelly stayed constantly by my side, hovering like a watchful nurse, though I suspected she was there on his orders. Even her kindness began to feel like confinement.
Tea was delivered twice a day, its scent cloying and sweet. The doctor had left Laudanum as well, a cruel mercy that clouded my mind and softened my edges until I barely knew myself. I slept endlessly, dreamless, empty sleep, and woke each time feeling more ghost than woman.
By the third morning, I could stand again, though the remnants of the Laudanum left my limbs shaky. Syluminsisted I remain in my room, claiming it was for my safety, though it felt more like a cage.
At least I was granted one small mercy.
Poe.
After much pleading, Sylum allowed the raven to stay with me on the condition that I rest.
He became my only true companion, a small, macabre sentinel perched near the window, muttering to himself in dark verses.
“Good morning, Your Grace.” Nelly’s voice was chipper, as she entered my room, balancing a tray with one hand. It clinked as she set it down on the small table beside the bed—bread, cheeses, fruit and a pot of tea steaming fragrantly beside a small brown bottle.
Laudanum.
I frowned.
“I don’t need that anymore,” I said with a reassuring smile. “I’m completely recovered.”
Nelly turned, her hands folding before her apron. “His Grace said you’re still to take it, just to be safe.”
I smiled through gritted teeth. “Did he?”
She hesitated, glancing down. “Yes, Your Grace.”
My fingers clenched the coverlet. “And where is His Grace right now?”
“I—” Nelly stammered, visibly flustered. “He left aboutan hour ago. I’m not sure where.”
