Silence falls for a brief moment before Devin answers, “Thank you.”
Clumpy footsteps draw quieter. As I lie in the darkness behind my closed eyelids, I hear the squeaking of a sunken chair.
“Lyra,” Devin whispers. “Lyra, if you can hear me, open your eyes.”
I fight to keep my face relaxed, my body neutral. Focusing on the steady fall and rise of my chest.
“Lyra, if you’re still feeling…ill, and they find out, they cannot in good faith keep you here. They would want to send you back home.”
Still ill…surely he does not believe whatever Lady Bethany told him?
“Devin,” a voice booms, and I nearly flinch.
Heavy footsteps echo around me until they’re near and stop. A chair near me squeaks again, like the weight has been lifted off it.
“My King,” Devin says, his voice somewhere above me. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I wanted to see her,” he says. And I swear I can feel those eyes scanning me. “What has the doctor said?”
“That she might wake before tonight. She is in stable condition and is only resting. So no need to worry.”
“No fever?” Cyrus asks.
“No. He theorized it could have been a potential nip from one of the earth dragons out in the gardens.”
“They’re not venomous,” Cyrus says slowly.
“Most aren’t. But if it was some sort of hybrid, perhaps? That, or a lingering faintness from her illness the night prior, combined with severe stress, exhaustion, and lack of nutrition.”
Cyrus sighs heavily, and the two of them fall silent. I’m trying so hard not to disrupt my rhythmic breathing, nor give into the temptation to open my eyes.
“Why don’t you go and check on Lady Bethany and the rest of the women? Perhaps we assess all of them, and take a small break from the process if it’s needed,” Cyrus murmurs.
“We can’t afford any delays,” Devin responds.
Cyrus’ voice is stern. “That is an order, Devin. Not a request.”
Devin clears his throat before his footsteps disappear in the distance. The chair nearby squeaks even louder as Cyrus takes a seat next to me.
My heart skips a beat at his proximity. Fragments of dreams flash behind my eyes. Elongated fingers and slitted eyes. A creature cresting the shadowed hill.
“Lyra,” Cyrus breathes. My name on his lips stirs my heart with how lovely it sounds. An honor that he’d know it well enough to say it.
A timid finger brushes my forearm before it disappears. I flutter my eyes open. The ceiling is a blurry shape of carved elegance, with crown molding, chandeliers, and that damned florals and dragon wallpaper adorning the walls. I turn my head to the left, where Cyrus is sitting.
He lets out a relieved sigh and grins. “Hello.”
I can’t help my own dizzy smile as I rasp, “Hello.”
He leans forward, his elbows on his knees as he tilts his head at me. He’s wearing a lavish white long sleeve with frills at the throat. Behind him, shrugged off on the chair, is a red blazer, matching the crimson pants encasing his legs.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, glancing from my hand resting on the mattress to my face.
Slowly, I lean up as the muscles in my body protest. I’m still in that cream-colored dress with flowers skimming the bodice and skirts. Tucking a damp strand of black hair behind my ear, I turn a bit toward him. “A touch faint and a little hot, but…alright, I think?”
Cyrus snaps his attention to one of the assistants, motioning to a door in the distance before they scurry away. He then turns to a bedside table,grabbing a cloth soaking in a bowl of water. Once he wrings it out, he holds out the damp towel. “May I?”
Dipping my head in permission, he cautiously presses it to my forehead for a few moments before moving it around in spots on my face. The water is ice cold, settling the heat pricking in my skin.
