Mother was curled up behind him, one hand resting on Vasily’s hip as he let out soft snores, and his presence had memories flooding back.
He let out a shaky breath as remembered panic coursed through him. He recalled the split second of terror and disbelief when his feet had skidded out from under him and sent him plummeting, and the pain of his skull bouncing off the rocks when the waves had dashed him against the wall.
When he’d hit his head, he’d been too dazed to try and stay afloat, and as he’d started to sink, he’d genuinely thought he was going to die. Panic had flooded him as everything had started to go dark, and he’d had to fight the urge to open his mouth, desperate for breath. But then, impossibly, Mother had appeared out of nowhere, a grimly determined rescuing angel, and hauled him to the surface.
Mother had saved him.
The knowledge of how close he’d come to drowning filled him with a sudden, desperate need to be held, and he put his hand on top of the one resting on his hip and drew it around himself, encasing himself in Mother’s warmth. The arm tightened as Mother stirred, and his breath was a light breeze against Vasily’s ear as he murmured, “All right, love?”
“Want to hold you,” Vasily mumbled, turning in Mother’s arms and burying his face against his chest as his heart hammered. The fabric of Mother’s shirt was rough against his cheek, but underneath it his heartbeat was steady and strong, just like Mother himself. The familiar rhythm along with Mother’s presence worked to soothe him, until he felt a little less off-kilter and his heart stopped racing quite so much. “I was so afraid,” he admitted.
Mother kissed the top of his head and pulled him closer. “You’re not the only one. Thought I’d lost you for a minute there.” His voice was unsteady, and he reached out and brushed Vasily’s hair away from his face. “Couldn’t see a bloody thing underwater.” He twirled one of Vasily’s locks idly around a finger. “This was what saved you. Shone like gold, it did.”
Vasily propped himself on one elbow and looked down to find Mother watching him, his expression a mixture of devotion and possessiveness that warmed Vasily inside and chased away some of the lingering terror. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Mother’s cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered, “for diving in after me.”
“I’ll always dive in, if it’s you,” Mother said, his gaze intense.
Vasily didn’t doubt for a moment that he meant it, and the words settled something inside of him. He decided he’d spent long enough thinking about his close call when really, the most important event of the day had been Mother’s declaration as they’d sat on the harbour wall. “You said you loved me. You even used all my names.”
“I do love you,” Mother said, a smile curling up the corners of his mouth, and he looked so pleased with himself that Vasily couldn’t resist leaning in and kissing him—a soft, tiny thing but thrilling all the same because he was alive to do it.
“I love you too,” he said when he pulled away. It suddenly seemed important that he not miss a single chance to say it.
Mother’s expression turned soft, and he cupped Vasily’s face with one broad palm and guided him close, then kissed him with a quiet passion, gentle but persistent. Parting his lips, Vasily welcomed Mother in, mapping the inside of his mouth with equal fervour. Mother fitted against Vasily like they’d been made for each other, and kissing him was like coming home. They stayed like that, kissing soft and slow, until a knock at the door interrupted them.
Vasily rolled back onto the bed, wincing at the pull in his muscles, while Mother went and opened the door.
Maester Owens bustled in, making a pleased noise when he saw Vasily sitting up. “You’re awake! Excellent. Mr. Jones was supposed to come and get me,” he said, shooting Mother a narrow look.
Mother ignored him.
The maester turned to Vasily, pulling out a wooden cylinder and pressing it to his chest. “Deep breaths in and out,” he ordered. Vasily did as he was told, and the maester put his ear to the other end of the tube. After several breaths he nodded and moved the tube to his back, saying, “Again.” When he lifted his head, his smile was more of a relief than Vasily wanted to admit. “Your lungs sound clear. You took a knock to the head, and you’ve got some scrapes, but there are no serious injuries.”
“So I can go home?” Vasily asked.
The maester hesitated. “I’d prefer it if you weren’t alone.”
Vasily glanced across at Mother, who was sitting in the chair at the side of the bed. He gave a tiny nod. “I can stay with him.”
The maester sighed. “Fine. Vasily can go home if you keep an eye on him. But he’s not to exert himself inanyway. No strenuous activities for at least three days.”
Mother affected an innocent look. “So, no working with the horses, you mean?”
Maester Owens raised an eyebrow. “You knowexactlywhat activities I’m talking about, Mr. Jones.”
Mother’s ears turned pink.
Vasily swallowed his disappointment. He found himself craving Mother’s touch and had been looking forward to being properly alone. Surely they wouldn’t really have to wait three whole days?
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, and everything wobbled for just a moment. As he bent over the bed and clung on for support, Vasily was forced to concede that perhaps the maester knew his job after all.
Mother was at his side in an instant, one arm around Vasily’s waist as he helped him sit on the side of the bed. “Are you sure he doesn’t need to stay longer?” he asked, his brow creased with worry, and Vasily loved him a little more for his obvious concern.
“As I said, he’s fit to go home as long as you watch him and he doesn’t exert himself,” Maester Owens repeated.
Vasily threw him a grateful smile. As nice as the infirmary was, he suspected he’d go mad being cooped up in it for too long. He stood again, more carefully this time, and to his relief there was no dizziness. He glanced down at his nightshirt and screwed up his face. “Am I walking to the cottage wearing this, then?” Another thought struck him. “Oh, bollocks.”
“What is it?” Mother asked, the furrow in his brow deepening as he hovered. “Are you hurt? Do you need to be sick? You’re very pale.”
