I barely notice as Soria steps back. Did Vale signal for her to go? I feel him adjusting the blanket over me—a tender move that doesn’t completely hide his concern. His shoulders sag low.
“I was so worried I might….” More words unsaid. I hate all this discomfort around me.
I shift my arms along my sides and force myself up. It takes all my strength just to sit back against the pillows. Every muscle in my body is on fire. Vale stands, his hands hovering helplessly around me—reaching, but unsure what to do.
“It’s no use.” My voice catches and scrapes in my throat. His brow puckers exactly as I’d hoped. “As strong as you are, you’ll never be able to save me from my own stubbornness.” Even through the fractured breaking of my words, he hears me.
The laugh he gives is small, but enough for me to feel my endeavor a success. He may not be any less worried about me, but even that small dose of humor might show him I am still me. I am still here.
It must be the middle of the night.
Soria returns with two figures alongside her, both still rubbing sleep from their eyes. The wrinkles across their clothing make mewonder if they dressed in a hurry in the dark or slept in their clothes from the day.
A man leads the charge, a woman close behind him carrying a bag he ushers her to bring quickly.
“How is the patient?”
The man’s aged voice indicates his years even beyond his appearance. I may never get used to how young even the ancient appear. His grey hair is somewhat disheveled as he brushes it back, leaning in to look at me.
“Her personality is intact,” Vale says, with a charm that makes my mouth upturn in the faintest smile as the man presses his hand to my forehead.
“Has the fever passed?”
“Aye, it would seem so. Bring me a lantern.” The man barks at the woman. She returns, and he peers more deeply into my eyes as the light burns against my vision. “Good, yes—very good.” Then comes the barrage of questions.
Do I know my name?I do.
Do I know what happened?I don’t.
How do I feel?Awful.
Apparently that is a good sign. “Pain means the body is still communicating with you—still fighting. Healing. Very good indeed.” He turns to the woman, her curled hair even more wild than his own and only subtly streaked with grey. “Same remedy, thrice a day.” He turns to Soria. “And whatever her stomach might handle as soon as possible. She’ll either turn up the simplest broth or eat everything in sight. I’ll expect to know which when I return. Keep resting, dear. Your strength should return soon.” He rises, and the nurse passes a satchel to Soria. Vale shakes his hand. They speak quietly enough that I can’t tell what transpired. A mutual reassurance, perhaps.
Figures scatter. All but Vale. He sits even closer now.
Soria opens the window, and cool night air pours in. Moonlight lines the blanket across me like the silver thread of my gown.
The gown. The solstice.
“When did you return?” I ask Vale weakly, more pained from his absence than from what transpired since.
“This morning, just before dawn. I’m so sorry I was late, I’m so sorry….” I lift my hand to his cheek, my thumb gently caressing the scruff of his beard.
“It’s alright. You’re here now.” Tears sting the corners of my eyes, too feeble to temper my rising emotions.
“You have to stop doing that,” he insists—there’s a playful, loving tone to the scolding.
“What?”
“Worrying about me. I am fine. It nearly broke me when I found you lying there, but… I’m fine. Let’s focus on you. Porridge or broth?”
I look at him, confused—then recall the words. The same ones I used toward him when he was in such dire straits.
I laugh.
“I’d say I could eat a horse, but I don’t want to worry Bracken.” That alone is enough to ease him at last.
Soria flits about as she so often does, bringing a fresh cup of the same warm herbal brew from before. The taste hits even more sharply now that I am lucid. It feels like only a moment before a knock at the door, and Soria approaches with a tray. Broth—and yes, even porridge. Alongside cured meats and aged cheeses, bread and fresh butter. A bounty of fruits.
