Mari arrived with bread and eggs for Ren’wyn and hot broth for Fael.Ren’wyn watched him eat every spoonful before he sank back against the pillows.
“I’ve never felt so weak,” he admitted.
“Your fever was high,” Ren’wyn said gently.“You were barely conscious for the last three days, and you’re still very dehydrated.”
“How can I ever thank you?”Fael asked.
“Don’t,” Ren’wyn said simply.“You saved me in the Territories—and again in Delmor.I just wanted to do the same foryou.”
They sat in comfortable silence until Ren’wyn finally spoke.“It’s going to be a few days before you’re able to get around.Will we be all right stayinghere?”
“I suppose so,” Fael said.“Any chance we could get some books, though?Or better yet, a battle plan to review?”
She laughed and told him to rest, fretting with the blankets as she tucked them aroundhim.
“There are no other rooms available,” she whispered after a long pause.
“Stay here, then,” Fael shrugged.“If the past few days have been as bad as I feel they’ve been, I don’t think sharing a bed will change anything.”
Ren’wyn didn’t want to admit that sharing a bed with an invalid was much different than sharing one with him conscious.
“Besides,” he smiled, “we’re brother and sister—low-born and used to sharing.”
Too tired to argue, she crept into the small bed, still worn from broken nights of sleep.Fael relaxed into the pillows, and she put as much space between them as she could, brushing her fingers along the dark woodenwall.
Sleep finally found her, and they drifted off together—relieved and exhausted.
Six days passed before Fael left the room—six days of boredom and frustration.Ren’wyn didn’t particularly care for grumpy Fael, his tone cynical and harsh as his pent-up energy simmered.She often found herself standing with her hands on her hips, mouth twisted against his prickly comments.
“I don’t care that you want to get up,” she repeated, one hand holding him back on the bed.“You’re not strong enough yet, and I don’t feel like fixing whatever damage you cause.”
“You aren’t a healer, and you aren’t my mother,” he retorted.
“No, but you insist on acting childish—forcing me to motheryou.”
Silence.He crossed his arms and stared out the window, scowling.
“Eat,” she prompted.“Recover your strength.I promise this willend.”
He grumbled but followed her instructions.Even putting on his shirt still sent him into coughing fits, but she didn’t remind him.Fighting wasn’t worth it—she let his anger wash over her like waves against the shore.
Finally, he rubbed his face.“I’m sorry, Ren’wyn,” he said.“And thank you.You deserve better thanthis.”
She sat next to him and touched his arm.“I promise we’ll get past this.Soon enough, you’ll hardly remember being stuck inhere.”
By the fourth day, Fael was doing slow stretches alongside Ren’wyn in the cramped room.On the fifth day, he stretched a little longer.On the sixth day, she walked him downstairs to breakfast.He sat heavily at the first table, and Mari merrily brought over milk, eggs, oatmeal with raisins, and bread.
“You’re looking much better, Seth.”She smiled prettily.
“My sister is practically unbelievable,” he returned, pouring milk into his oatmeal.
Ren’wyn grinned to herself as heate.
Fael followed the walk back up the creaky stairs with a nap but made it downstairs for both lunch and dinner.The next day, they ventured outdoors, bundled in coats against the winter chill.Ren’wyn described her childhood home, where snow often lay so deep this time of year that knee-high boots and carriage runners were a necessity.
When his face paled, she took him inside, tucking him gently into bed and humming as she prepared tea.His cough was improving, but Ren’wyn couldn’t quite shake her fears of pneumonia or bronchitis.She plied him with every remedy in her arsenal.
Fael called her overbearing, but his teasing tone softened the words, and he drank her teas without complaint.
