Maybe Vasily would be all right after all. He gave a shaky sigh and straightened up, scrubbing his hands down his face. “You’re far too sensible,” he grumbled to hide his embarrassment.
Janus patted his shoulder. “One of us has to be since you’re obviously lovestruck.” His brows pinched together. “You’re freezing.”
Mother shrugged. He hadn’t noticed.
“You should go and get some dry clothes.”
He shook his head, even though now Janus mentioned it, his skin was pebbled with the cold and his bare feet curled in discomfort on the stone floor. “I need to—”
“You need to get dry and warm and then you can come back,” came a voice from the corridor. King Leopold arched an eyebrow in a way that left Mother in no doubt that he meant it, but then he looked at Mother properly, doubtless taking in his tear-stained face, and his expression softened. “But first, shall I go in and find out how he is?”
“The maester sent everyone out, sire,” Mother said, his heart twisting with worry once again.
Leo snorted. “He won’t sendmeout.”
And sure enough, Leo pushed the door open, and Mother heard, “Who in damnation—sire!My apologies!” before the door closed again.
Janus smirked. “Leo enjoys doing that far too much.”
Mother gave a shaky laugh, and while they waited, he found a pile of folded linen squares and blew his nose and wiped his face. It made him feel a little more respectable, at least. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself.
It wasn’t long before the door to the infirmary opened, and Leo emerged. “He’s going to be fine,” he said before Mother had a chance to ask. “He woke up, just for a few minutes, and the maester says the bump on his head looks worse than it is.”
Mother sagged with relief as all the tension left him. “Can I—”
“Once you’re dressed and dry,” Leo said firmly. “Then you can come back.” He paused. “I’ll be sending someone to tell Vasily’s parents that he’s been injured. It’s the proper thing, given his position. Vasily was sent here with the intention that he be kept safe, and not to inform the Koroslovan royal family of something like this could spark a diplomatic incident.”
Leo watched him carefully as he spoke, as if he expected Mother to disagree, but Mother nodded. “Of course, sire. Vasily’s a prince, after all.” The words still sounded odd to his own ears, but Mother supposed that would pass with time. Besides, after nearly losing him, Mother was determined that he wasn’t going to let Vasily’s position come between them. “Get one of the lads to saddle up Archer, sire. He’s the fastest ride we’ve got, and I assume you’ll want word to get through as quickly as you can.”
“Quite. I’ll send Janus. A message like this needs a person with some standing to deliver it.” Leo gave him a soft smile, and Mother couldn’t help but feel he’d passed some sort of test.
Then Leo shooed Mother towards the door and he didn’t even think of arguing. Still barefoot, he made his way to his cottage and hastily stoked the fire, setting a pan of water to heat while he peeled out of his wet trousers and dried his hair. By the time he’d done that, the water had heated, so he washed himself, removing the traces of ocean salt and chasing away the chill at the same time.
He dressed in clean, dry clothes and ran his fingers through his hair, then pulled on his spare boots, anticipation and relief tangled together as he hastened back to the infirmary.
The maester had said Vasily was going to be fine, and that was well and good, but Mother was still shaken by how close he’d come to losing him. He didn’t plan on leaving his side anytime soon.
When he arrived back at the infirmary, he knocked softly on the door and Maester Owens let him in. A chair had been set next to the bed. “His Majesty said you’d want to stay,” the maester murmured.
“Aye,” Mother said. He sat down and reached out, covering Vasily’s hand with his own. “Is he really going to be fine?” he asked quietly.
“Thanks to you,” the maester said. “I’ll leave you alone.”
He left, and Mother let himself really look at Vasily. He’d been stripped out of his wet clothes and dressed in a nightshirt, and he looked pale and fragile against the bed linens, with dark circles under his eyes. But the wound on his head had been dressed, and his chest was rising and falling in a reassuring, steady rhythm.
Mother stroked the back of Vasily’s fingers, but it wasn’t enough. He’d nearly lost the person he loved, and now he needed to be close.
Slipping his boots off, he eased onto the bed behind Vasily and wrapped an arm around him. Vasily nestled back against him and made a contented noise, and the familiarity of it immediately made Mother feel better.
Mother’s entire body was a catalogue of aches and pains, and a wave of exhaustion swept over him as he sagged into the mattress like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Still, he found himself smiling because he had Vasily in his arms, and what could be better than that?
Secure in the knowledge that his lover was safe, Mother slept.
ChapterSixteen
Vasily woke in an unfamiliar bedroom, blinking slowly. His eyes stung, the taste of seawater lingered in his throat, and it felt like one of his horses had kicked him in the head. When he raised a hand to the throbbing spot on his temple, he found a dressing there, and he noted that he was in a nightshirt. It was obviously evening, with the curtains drawn, the fireplace lit, and the room suffused with dim lamplight. A vague scent of herbs permeated the room.
The infirmary, then.
