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“Rukh,” I call out to him.
He frantically mixes the two ingredients together in a mortar and pestle.
I know that it’s no use and that what he’s brought me is a simple potion for ordinary diseases. And judging by the fact that I can feel my organs slowly failing, I don’t think his concoction will do too much, anyway.
He doesn’t hear me.
“Rukh!” I call out again, this time much louder.
He startles. I didn’t think Rukh was capable of startling. I can add that to my list of achievements, as I start to expire.
“Yes?” he asks.
“Come here,” I instruct him.
Early on, I was afraid of giving him my sickness, in fear that the magical illness might somehow become contagious.
I imagine a horrifying magical plague unleashed on the population of Mellara, and I start to shudder. If I were evil, and I wanted to wipe out an entire population of dark elves, it would seem almost too perfect.
He approaches me, and I take his large hand in mine, meeting his gaze.
I feel myself tingle at his touch. I want to bring him to me and wrap myself around him. I want to kiss him and never let go.
“I love you,” I tell him.
He smiles. “I know that,” he says.
“I know. I just want to make sure you know that before –”
He shakes his head, steps away from me, and returns to mixing the potion. “I’m sorry, Annette,” he says. “I love you, too, but we need to figure this out.”
It’s a common potion he could have purchased himself, if he had any sense of how local shops work. The idea that he thinks it’s going to have any long-lasting effect on me is a little irritating, but I know how hard he’s trying, and I honor him for it.
Eventually, when he’s exhausted his options, he starts asking me for help, searching through the books.
There are tomes on magical curses, cursed items, advanced spells and conjuration rituals, blood magics, and books I can’t begin to piece together, whose magic is so far beyond my own I can barely read the language it’s written in.
“Here’s something about fevers,” Rukh suggests. He holds up a book, and I realize it’s a common alchemical text on household remedies.
I shake my head. “I’ve got a bit more than a fever going on, Rukh,” I tell him.
He rubs his chin before bringing his fist down hard on the table, leaving a small crack in its surface. The impact shakes the room momentarily.
I don’t look up from the text he’s given me. Though I know he won’t apologize, I can tell that he’s sorry.
I’ve resolved to cherish every moment I have left with Rukh, faults and all. What’s more, I can feel my mind weakening, and I know that soon, I won’t even have the faculties to appreciate our time together anymore.
In a cruel twist of irony, the greatest reminder of how valuable Rukh is to me is how little time I have left with him.
“You’re going to be okay,” Rukh says, picking up another text. “You know that right?”
I nod, hoping that I convince him, because I’m certainly not convincing myself.
“I know you’re scared,” Rukh says. “But you don’t need to worry.”
I don’t know, at this point, whether he’s reassuring himself.
He flips open the book, and I think I hear him mutter something along the lines of ‘I’ll pull you up myself, if I have to.’
