The next time he woke, Jules was beside the window closest to him, staring at him oddly.
“I didn’t disturb you, did I?” he asked.
“No, I was just checking you were still alive. You’ve been oddly still for an hour.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
He quickly started to cough again.
“And… there we go again. Oh joy.”
“I assure you, I am taking no pleasure in this.”
“I assure you, neither am I.”
She handed him another draught the healer must have brought, and returned to hovering by the window.
“You look awful,” she remarked.
“Ifeelawful, and oddly enough, you reminding me of that fact is not particularly comforting.” He paused, wondering whatwouldbe comforting, and remembered pawing at her hand during the night, scared out of his wits. “Did I nearly die last night?”
Juliana hesitated. “No. Your fever spiked, and the healer encased you in ice to bring it down, but I don’t think you were in danger of expiring at any point.”
“I see.”
“It… it was a bit scary for a moment,” she whispered, almost imperceptibly, and her mouth hovered half-open, twitching with thoughts unsaid. “How are you feeling now?”
If he’d had the strength to buckle, he would have then. At most, he managed to blink. “Why are you asking?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “It all seems a bit pointless. I doubt there’s anything I can do anyway, but my father informs me it’s a thing mortals will say to express concern.”
It was strange to hear her speak like mortals as if she wasn’t one, but she’d never known what it was like to live truly amongst them. What must that be like, he wondered, to be neither fully mortal, nor one of the fae?
He decided he didn’t like to think about it. “And are you?”
“What?”
“Concerned?”
She could lie, of course. That was the problem with Jules. She could say whatever she wanted, and would, and it was up to everyone else to work out if she was telling the truth.
“Yes,” she said, her voice oddly soft. “I mean, I don’t think you’re about to expire, but yes, I’m alittleconcerned about you. I don’t think I’ve heard you utter a mean word or an order in over twenty-four hours. Most unusual.”
“I don’t have the strength to,” he said. “I can barely lift my own head, everything hurts, it feels like you’ve finally made good on your threat to throw an axe at my head and I’ve never felt quite so awful in all my life.”
Juliana stared at him, and he waited for the barbs to come, the inevitable teasing.
Instead, she crossed the room, and sat down beside him. “Did it help to speak it?”
“Curiously, it did.”
And then in an act that completely surprised him, she leant over, dipped one of the cloths in water, and started to dab at his forehead with curious gentleness.
“And this?” she asked. “Does this help?”
“It doesn’tnothelp.”
He felt the nausea returning, even though he knew there was nothing to bring up. His fever seemed to have spiked again. His skin felt as flushed as ever, and yet, for a moment, it all felt endurable.
