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“I’m keenly observant.”
“I have an itch in my throat. No big deal.” Cole looks at me from behind the canvas. “Ready?”
I nod and affect what I hope is a stately stance and expression. I’d been erased from my family because of the liberties my uncle took with me. His crimes had somehow becomemyshame. He robbed me of my dignity, my sense of self, and here I am pretending to be the confident, poised human I never was.
Your glory is so much greater now. Why bother with this farce?
But I hold still and Cole paints. Being under his thoughtful, diligent gaze isn’t the torture I feared it might be. True, I want to stride to him, strip him naked, and return the favor he gave me the other night. But mostly, the sense of safety washes over me and I relax.
But Cole coughs again and again. After another few minutes, I can’t take it anymore. I drop my pose.
“Cole.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re ill. From last night’s rain, just as I said.”
“It’s just a cold. I’ll be okay.” Cole’s eyes flare with concern. “Can I get you sick?”
“Bloody hell, man,that’swhat you’re…?” I scrub my hands over my face. “Put down the brush and sit down. Or lie down. Or perhaps, the hospital?”
He chuckles. “That’s a little extreme. But I’ll take some lemon tea with honey if you have it.”
I make Cole the tea, and he insists on continuing, though his cough worsens with every passing moment. I have no idea what to do. What he needs. Human bodies are so bloody fragile, it’s a miracle any of them make it past infancy.
After another bout of coughing, I toss the cane to the floor with a clatter.
“Enough. Go to bed at once.”
He nods and sets his brush down. “I am feeling a little warm. Shit, I hate when you’re right.”
“Get used to it.” I follow Cole to the spare room, and he climbs into bed. I stand awkwardly beside him. “What can I do?”
He smiles against the pillow, his eyes already closed. “Tell me a bedtime story.”
“Fuck’s sake...”
Cole laughs and that laugh devolves into yet another cough. “I’ll sleep a bit and we can start again. I’m sorry, Ambri.”
He sleeps, not for “a bit” but for hours. When he wakes, the sun is low in the winter sky and the room is beginning to darken. His cheeks are splotched with red, and his eyes are glassy. His coughing is worse, wracking him and bending him in half.
“Cole…”
“Do you have something for a fever?” he croaks. “A few pills and I’ll be good to go.”
“Will you, now? You look like absolute shite,” I say to conceal the fact that my heart is thudding against my chest like a hammer. “What else? Should I call for a doctor?”
“No. Maybe some water?”
I’m already out of the room to ring Jerome. I place an order, then bring Cole a glass of water. He struggles to sit and drinks only a little. I frown, still standing impotently at his side.
He smiles at me tiredly. “You’re always too handsome for your own good, Ambri,” he says. “But right now, you’re beautiful. I’ve never seen you look more human.”
I scoff. “You’re clearly feverish. Stop talking nonsense and rest.”
Cole chuckles, then is wracked by more coughing. “She’s right,” he mutters, his eyes falling shut. “I won’t give up…”
He falls into a fitful sleep. I tear off my coat and yank at the ruffle at my neck, undoing buttons. I’m about to burn the city down myself waiting for the currier to bring the supplies I requested. Finally, there is a knock at my door, and a young man hands me two bags filled with cans of soup, juice, and medicines of all kinds.
