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Sarya approached and held out one of their tin cups. “This is some of the broth from the soup. Perhaps you can sip it, amir? The hot broth might feel good.”
Edmund groaned, but he pushed onto an elbow, then upright, sagging against Jalissa’s shoulder. His hand shook as he took the tin cup, and he rested it on his knee rather than bringing it to his mouth right away. “I’ll try.”
Jalissa attempted to eat her own soup. The hot meal warmed her fingers and toes, but the churning pain coming from Edmund twisted her stomach so much that she could barely choke down more than a few bites.
Edmund tried a sip, gagged, then set the mug aside, shaking his head. He leaned his forehead against Jalissa’s shoulder, his weight heavy against her. “I’m sorry, my amirah.”
Jalissa set aside her own, mostly uneaten bowl and wrapped both arms around him. “Tomorrow, we will ride out of these mountains, board a train for Aldon, and get you to the healer. Only one more day.”
No need to remind either of them that it would be the hardest day. They were out of elven healing magic, and the poison was thoroughly at work in his system. Tomorrow would mark the third day of being poisoned. The day he would have died or already been dead, if not for the healing magic and their heart bond.
Sarya took the tin cup and the bowl without a word, going about cleaning up supper and picketing the horses in a nearby glade for the night.
Edmund sagged away from Jalissa’s shoulder to curl onto the bedroll again.
Jalissa curled beside him, tucking her hands underneath his loose shirt against his skin to make sure she did not lose contact with him if she drifted off to sleep.
* * *
Edmund woke from his light,pained doze and blinked into the darkness of the surrounding forest. Jalissa lay behind him, her arms clutched tight around him with a desperate determination even in sleep.
His whole body hurt in a way he’d never experienced before. Even getting shot hadn’t hurt this badly. All his insides burned with a clawing agony.
But worse than his own pain was knowing that Jalissa felt every stab of pain right along with him. He’d seen the taut lines of her face, her pallor, the liquid sheen of pain in her eyes. Even now, she gave a small whimper of pain in her sleep.
And it was killing him just as much as the poison.
How could he keep doing this to her? He was draining the life out of her to stay alive.
He’d gambled that he and Jalissa would form a heart bond, but he hadn’t expected it to be like…this. This was far more raw. Painful. Guilt-filled. She was giving so much of herself while he was taking.
And they still had a day to go. He was not sure he could watch Jalissa suffer for yet another day, knowing that he was the one causing her that pain.
What other choice did he have? His only other option was to disentangle himself from Jalissa’s grip and crawl away into the forest to die before she or Sarya woke up.
A part of him toyed with the idea far longer than he should. It was not right. It would be giving up, and he knew Jalissa would far rather take the pain of keeping him alive than losing him altogether.
Do you think I am weak?Her accusation from the train speared his head once again.
By contemplating letting go instead of clinging to her in the heart bond, he was treating her as if she was weak. As if he thought she was not strong enough to bear his pain and sustain his life.
He knew better. She was far from weak, and she had proven that over and over on this journey.
No, he was the weak one. Too weak to cling to her when he should. Too weak for letting his mind drift to dark places it shouldn’t go.
But knowing what tomorrow would bring still tore through him. How could he knowingly do this to Jalissa?
He’d chosen this, back when he’d calculated that it was better to drink the poison than give away that he suspected the brandy was poisoned. He’d known the heart bond would take a toll on Jalissa. He’d known this would hurt her.
And he had done it anyway.
What kind of person did that make him? He’d thought he’d been changing. That he had walked away from the lies and deception to marry Jalissa.
But the moment he’d been sent on a mission, he’d gone right back to the lies, the shady morals, the gambles. And Jalissa was the one paying the price. Again.
He had to be done. For real this time. He could not continue to put Jalissa through this. When they returned, he would have to speak with Averett and General Bloam. Even if he ended up with a desk job for the rest of his elven-heart-bond-extended life, he’d do it because it was what was best for Jalissa.
If he survived.
