“And I want runners waiting here if he needs anything else,” Verice added. “Ersal,” he hesitated, glancing back at the bed behind him. Pain rose in his chest, memories of that horrible night—
The sound of Warna being sick again echoed from the privy.
“Ersal, see to it that this room is cleaned and restored.” Verice ordered. “Do everything possible for Warna’s comfort.”
Ersal’s face was solemn. “M’lord, I will see it done. It would be easier though, if we could use the hot springs below, and the smaller hearths.”
Verice’s throat closed. For a moment the pain threatened to overwhelm him. But he didn’t let it stop him. “Whatever you need, Ersal. Except the Great Hall. Let no one enter there.”
“On my honor,” Ersal bowed his head. “It will be done as you command.”
“My thanks,” Verice said. “Ricard, send word to the commanders along the border with Valltera to watch for trouble.” Verice said grimly. “Then join me at Narthing’s bedside.”
“M’lord,” Ricard acknowledged the command. He hesitated for a moment. “You might want to clean up first.”
Verice looked down at his stained and fouled leathers. “I will. We’ll need to send word to my advisors as well,” he started off down the dimly lit and dusty corridor, Ricard at his side. “There is much to discuss.”
The stars wereout that night by the time Verice returned to the keep. He entered through the main doors, taking the steps two at a time. Painful memories lingered in the shadows, but he ignored them. His thoughts were of Warna. He’d received hourly reports from Dominic, all of which boiled down to ‘no change’.
The keep was alive with light and movement as the work of cleaning progressed. Ersal’s voice was coming from the Seneschal’s office, but Verice didn’t pause to inquire. He continued on.
The main corridors were being scrubbed, the carpets removed to be aired and beaten. Verice acknowledge the staff’s quiet nods and‘m’lords’as he strode on, climbing the stairs and walking the halls to his chambers.
He tapped on the door, and one of the apprentices opened it and bowed him in.
This room shone, having been cleaned to a fare-thee-well. The smell of fresh soap and linens filled the air, but there was an underlying scent of medicines and sickness.
Warna was lying in bed, almost dwarfed by the bedding and pillows. She gave him a weak smile. Verice crossed to the bed and took her hand. “You look terrible,” he blurted out.
“Trust me,” she said wryly. “I’m not feeling much like a delicate flower right now.”
Verice sat on the side of the bed, looked over to where Dominic was conferring with the other healers. Dominic caught his look, and motioned for him to wait.
“What’s been happening?” Warna rasped. “Anything?”
“Yes,” Verice hesitated. “Barathiel has sent messages of concern for your health and assurances of the sanctity of our mutual border.”
“What does that mean?” Warna said.
“We’re not sure,” Verice admitted, enfolding her cold hand in both of his. “There have also been messages from the Regent of Palins, inquiring as to the health of my betrothed and offering assurances of his readiness to defend my borders.”
Warna’s eyes went wide. “But how would they know? So fast?”
Verice shrugged. “Spies, no doubt. In both courts, probably. Here, even. News flies on the wind.”
Warna’s fingers tightened weakly around his. “I’ve made a mess of things, haven’t I? I was lying my fool head off to get us out of there, and never thought through the consequences.”
“Hush,” Verice said. He reached out to push a strand of her hair back off her face. Her skin felt flushed. “Are you cold?”
Warna pulled at the blanket. “Can’t seem to get warm.”
Dominic and the others approached the bed. “Well, let’s see to you,” the healer said.
Verice rose, and released Warna’s hand slowly, making way for the healers.
“Open,” Dominic ordered, and Warna obeyed. “Let this melt under your tongue. That will ease the pain, and let you sleep.”
Warna grimaced. “Bitter,” she complained.
