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His eyes closed.

“How long was I sick?”

He barely opened his eyes again. “More than three days, mo leannan, tis how I knew yer sickness was verra grave. After three days, when ye dinna recover, I kent I had tae get ye home.”

“Sometimes people are sicker for longer than three days. I’m worried about you.” I pressed the back of my hand to his forehead again. Still warm. Too warm. “You’ve been out for more than a day⁠—”

Torin cracked one eye open, his voice gravelly. “Och, Princess, cease yer fussin’ over yer auld warrior husband. I will be well.”

“You promise?”

He gave me a lazy, half-lidded smile. “Two days left, mo leannan. I will be well on the third. Ye will see.”

His eyes closed and it looked like he was falling asleep again. “Daena worry on me, I just need tae sleep…”

“So this has been one day. Two more days?”

He nodded.

So that was that.

He lay on his good side, and I spooned him, though I was much smaller. It was less spooning, more like a barnacle hanging on for dear life, hoping that the whale doesn’t die.

I whispered, my mouth against his back, “Please don’t die.”

And continued, I need you, please… you are my everything… I know we are new, you are ancient, I am modern, I don’t know how we work… on paper it’s tricky, but I love spending time with you, we fit… we fit like a family that I never knew I had, which is kind of true…. I found my brother and my uncles and you were the one who brought them back to me, and you’re there my husband, doing everything good for me… Please don’t go…

I begged him to stay.

Later, food was delivered, and ale.

I woke him with a gentle whisper and he mumbled, “Princess, ye are stealing m’third day! I will be weak as a mouse if ye keep interruptin’ the slumber.”

“You must eat.”

“Food? Och, aye, I am verra hungry.”

He sat up, bleary eyed, seemingly full of enthusiasm, but then picked at it as if his appetite was gone. I had to make him eat a bit, then he washed it down with most of the ale.

I hovered while he staggered to relieve himself and turned my head away modestly. I said, though, “This is good news, Torin, you must be feeling better, peeing and pooping is a good sign.”

He finished and washed his hands in the basin, scrubbing poorly, and spying the dirty water. “Och, I am disgustin’, I am relieved he wasna real…” He staggered to the bed, collapsed on it, and started to fall asleep again.

“Do you need any medicine for the pain?”

“Will it keep me from bein’ able tae fight if I need tae?”

I raised my brow, incredulously. “Who are you fighting, Albannach?”

“What…?”

“How are your ears, are they getting better?”

“Aye, much better.”

“I asked, ‘Who are you fighting, Albannach?’”

“Apparently a ghostly king and his men…”