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She tried the handle, but the door was still locked with a sliding bolt.
“No, don’t come in.” Edmund’s voice rose a bit, almost panicked. “This is not…pleasant.”
But she could feel deep in her gut how much he was hurting. No way was she just going to ignore him and go away.
Sending her magic into the wood of the door, she moved the wood away from the nails holding the locking bolt in place. The door swung open easily.
Edmund hunched over the commode, just about hugging it. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead, and his bare back was slick with sweat. A decidedly putrid stench filled the room.
Jalissa stepped inside anyway. She would not flinch away from him, no matter how unpleasant and disgusting this was.
At her entrance, his head hung lower. His mutter held a caustic tone he had never directed at her before. “What’s the point of locks when you elves just ignore them?”
The sharpness of his tone hurt, but Jalissa knelt on the floor next to him anyway. Even though his face was mostly hidden from her, she could make out enough to see in his expression something she had never seen on him before.
Humiliation.
She had seen him charming. Nonchalant. Always in control behind that easy-going smile. She had even seen him contrite, back when he had confessed that he was also Elidyr, the elf she had fallen for and thought dead.
But she had never seen him embarrassed quite like this. This was a level of degradation that he did not want her to see.
She rested a hand on his arm, sucking in a breath at the pain that lanced through her. Not just her stomach, but her whole gut twisted as if shredding from the inside out. Still, she pushed it aside, keeping her voice steady. “Two and a half weeks ago, I promised in our Escarlish vows that I would stick by you, for better or worse, in sickness and in health. I am not going anywhere.”
He gave a harsh laugh, which turned into a groan. “No man wants his wife to see him like this.”
“Well, tough.” Jalissa held out the vial of medicine. “Drink this. You need it.”
Edmund shook his head, his mouth pressed tight for a long moment, before he spoke between his teeth. “We need to ration it.”
“No. Right now, we need you to be functional.” Jalissa tightened her grip on his arm, waiting until he half-peeked up at her before she continued. “You are the only one who can speak with a Mongavarian accent. We will use as much healing medicine as it takes to keep you going until the border. Once we are in Escarland, I can get you the rest of the way.”
While it might be tempting to ration while they were on the train for the next seven hours, she suspected that it would be better to keep feeding him the healing magic and maintain his current level of pain rather than let him slip far worse and hope the magic was enough to pull him out of it.
“Jalissa…” Edmund drew in a deep breath, as if he was preparing to argue.
“Do you think I am weak?” She did not try to keep the bite from her voice.
“What?” His head snapped up, and he fully met her eyes for the first time since she had entered.
“Do you think I am weak? Do you believe I am less capable than your sister was when she kept Farrendel alive? Or Farrendel when he kept her alive?” Jalissa lifted her chin, holding his gaze.
Did he truly think so little of her? Had she not proven over and over again in the time he had known her how capable she could be? After all, he was the one who had encouraged her to see herself as capable. He had never let her doubt herself or the strength of her magic.
Perhaps that was why his doubt stung so much now.
“No. No. Of course not. I just…” Edmund hung his head again, his gaze swinging away from her. “I just wish it wasn’t necessary.”
“Well, it is.” Jalissa uncorked the vial, then held it out to him again. “Drink.”
With trembling fingers, Edmund took the vial and drank. Both of them sat still for long moments, letting the healing magic work.
Finally, Edmund’s tension eased, and he breathed out a long sigh.
Since she still rested a hand on his arm, she could feel as the burning pain lessened, though it did not go away entirely as it had before.
He pushed away from the commode, though his shoulders and back remained hunched, his head hanging. “Jalissa, you are not weak.” His voice was quieter, softer, than before. “But it seems I am.”
She reached for him and pulled him to her, cradling his head against her shoulder. He sagged into her, and she simply held him, gross and sweaty as he was.
