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Fenella was peering over the edge of the bed sheets with anxious eyes. “I do apologize-” she started but he cut her off.

“No need for an apology, Fenella. You’re unwell.” He approached the bed and laid a hand across her forehead. “You’re still over-warm. How do you feel?”

“A lot better actually, now I’ve been sick,” she said. “But my head aches and my throat is sore.”

“Lie back in the bed,” he said, taking a seat in the chair.

Her eyes widened. “You’re really going to stay?” Her gaze skittered away from his as she bit her lip. “It wasn’t reasonable of me to ask.”

“Wasn’t it?” he asked wryly. “I think I was the unreasonable one this morning. Will you allow me to apologize?” he asked quietly.

Her fingers twisted in the bed-sheets. “You’ve been nothing but kind, my lord,” she said in a choked voice.

“I wish that were true,” he said gravely. “But I’m afraid I was not kind outside the King’s chamber.”

Her eyes filled with tears but she blinked them away. “There was much truth to your words, my lord,” she whispered, then closed them. “I hope I will not let you down.”

“Sleep now, Fenella,” he said and watched as she shifted onto her side and settled in to sleep. He watched for a long time, even after she had drifted off into fitful sleep, her cheeks bright red and her brow furrowed with discomfort. When she woke two hours later and vomited again, he was on hand to attend her and force her to drink a full cup of water. This time her temperature did not rocket back up and she slept sounder.

Meldon poked his head around the door at one point with a clean linen shift for Fenella. “Master Roland’s asking for you. What am I to tell him?”

“Tell him I’m newlywed and otherwise occupied,” said Oswald, who now had his stockinged feet up on the bed and his doublet unbuttoned. “I’ll see him at supper.”

“Oh aye,” muttered Meldon sourly, as he scooped up the wool dress and shut the door behind him.

Oswald picked up a sheaf of papers he had retrieved from the chest of drawers and started reading through them, glancing over periodically, at the sleeping occupant of his bed. When he was three quarters through, he glanced up and found Fenella silently watching him from the bed. “How are you feeling?” he asked, glancing at the candles on the dresser. They were nine-hour candles and around three-quarter burned through.

“Much better,” she answered him in a slightly scratchy voice. “Have I slept the entire day through?”

“Yes. Can I get you anything?”

“I feel sweaty and horrible,” she admitted. “Would it be possible for me to wash?”

“Of course,” he rose from the chair. “I’ll send for hot water.”

“My lord?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for staying with me.” She held his gaze.

He paused. “I’m your ally Fenella. I want you to know that. I’m on your side. Your problems are my problems. We’re in this together.”

She swallowed and nodded as he lightly touched her head. After two palace maids carried the buckets of hot water into the bedchamber, he left her to wash and change into the clean linen shift. When he re-entered the maids had changed the bedsheets so everything was fresh and Fenella was sat combing out her wet hair in front of the fire. Oswald crossed to the chest where he kept his surcoats and tunics and extracted a dressing robe for her. “We don’t want you catching cold,” he said passing it to her. “Put it on and fasten it up to your chin.”

“Such beautiful silk,” she marveled, stroking the peacock blue fabric. “And so finely embroidered around the sleeves.” Her fingers traced the golden thread. “Are all your dressing robes so…colorful?”

Oswald who was in the act of removing his doublet, paused at her curious tone. “I only have three,” he prevaricated.

“I’ve seen the scarlet one and now the peacock blue. What color is the third?”

He looked back over his shoulder at her. “You disapprove?”

“Not at all!” she assured him hurriedly. “They’re beautiful.”

Instead of answering her, he walked back to the dark wooden chest and extracted a jade green silk robe.

“Oh, that’s lovely.”