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“I am sorry, Úlfur. The days are hard, but you are strong.” Her voice is strained, but she squeezes my hand tighter with a pointed look.
“You heard about Zaina.” I don’t bother to pretend it’s a question.
“That she fell from her horse? I suppose she was always going out riding after midnight, and I just never noticed.” She levels me with a look, and I say nothing. “I will not be the only one asking questions, child.”
She has put together that Zaina is alive, or she wouldn’t be half so pointed. But I can’t tell her the rest, not when I don’t understand it myself.
“I know,” is all I say.
A moment later, she’s coughing fiercely. I don’t miss the way small droplets of blood spray onto the towel she holds near her beak.
I help her sit up and take a sip of water when she’s ready, trying my best to be gentle when all I want to do is break the person who did this to her.
“Úlfur?” She wheezes.
“Yes, Sigrid? What do you need?” I ask eagerly.
“No. Not me. You. You need to shower. You stink,” she says, a distasteful expression overtaking her bird-like features.
An unexpected laugh bursts out of me, and I nod.
“I suspect anyone forced to share your chambers won’t appreciate you making it stink like a wet dog.”
I clear my throat and take her meaning.
“It is a good thing no one will have to suffer that burden then,” I add with a pointed glance to the hallway, and she pats my hand with hers.
“And you need rest.” I say after a moment, “I’ll check on you again later.”
“Be careful, my boy,” she says quietly before laying back on the bed, and I nod.
Her breaths are labored but she looks as if she’s fallen asleep again before I even reach the door.
I take in the sight of this once strong, fierce woman, who hasn’t left this bed in days and it takes everything in me to leave the room. Each time I do, I wonder if it’s the last time. If she will still be breathing the next time I visit.
I force myself to turn and walk away as calmly as possible. Planning one funeral was quite enough for today. I can’t allow myself to think of how many might be on the horizon if I can’t find their cure.
Chapter Eighteen
Einar
Istop by the kitchens to grab dinner for Zaina. With everything I learned today, my appetite is long gone.
She raises her eyebrows but says nothing when I set her tray on the bed with more force than necessary and head straight for the shower, sweat still dripping from my brow.
The water flows warm from the heating stones in the walls. Usually, I revel in the luxury, but even this can’t relax me today, not when it still smells likeher. I wrench the handle to shut the pipes off as soon as the last speck of dirt circles the drain.
Wrapping a towel around my waist, I head back into my bedroom for clean clothes. Zaina lets out a sharp intake of breath.
I glance over to see she has frozen midway through setting her cup down, her wide eyes fixed on my damp chest as a blush creeps into her cheeks.
As naturally as pretending seems to come for her, she isn’t doing a very good job of it now. Or she is, and the reaction is for show. I let out a frustrated growl.
Already, I am so sick of trying to find the truths in her endless array of lies. Her expression turns to stone, though the redness remains while she focuses a little too hard on setting her cup down.
I ignore her as I continue to change into a fresh shirt and soft, long trousers. When I look up a second time, her features are as unaffected as ever until I sink down onto the mattress on the other side of her.
I briefly debate the merits of sleeping in my chair. Zaina notices everything, though, and she’ll take it as a sign of weakness. I’ll be damned if I let her think I’m afraid of her.
