Page 66 of Andreas

‘Areanel!’ the aide all but screeched. ‘Oh, gods! What happened? Who did this?’ She placed her small hands on either side of Areanel’s face, tilting her this way and that.

Areanel did not have the strength to bat her hands away and tell her to leave. All she could do was lie there as the palace aide—clearly new and too young—fussed.

Had she not been told that it was forbidden to assist her when Areanel was in such a condition?

The tears that streamed down the aide’s face caused Areanel’s brow to pinch. Why was she crying?

Hands moved around Areanel’s body, patting all over as the aide tried to find the source of the blood Areanel felt pooling beneath her.

Delirium was a gods-given respite, dulling sharp pain to an ache—but the aide’s prodding and probing had the pain slowly returning. Red already coated the girl’s hands, and as she wrapped her arms around Areanel’s waist, Areanel knew it would stain her clothes.

When the aide tried to haul Areanel off the ground only to drop her a moment later, the pain was sudden and excruciating. Areanel screamed.

‘I’m sorry!’ The aide rushed out. ‘I cannot move you by myself. I’m going to find help. Do not move!’ Her words tumbled out of her mouth, and Areanel watched as she frantically made for the door.

‘Really?’ Areanel coughed out. ‘I was thinking of going dancing.’ The sarcasm was meant to ease the aide’s nerves, but Areanel was pretty sure her words had come out in garbled moans, blood clogging her airways.

‘I will be right back!’ A new resolve had set into the aide’s features. ‘Do not move,’ she repeated, then fled as fast as her legs could carry her.

Time passed, but Areanel had never been a patient person. She waited as long as she could, but when a small inkling of strength came trickling back, she decided to try and at least get herself to the bathroom. That much she could surely do.

Still, grunts echoed as Areanel rolled herself over so that her stomach was flat against the floor. The cold ground was a slight reprieve from the rushing heat clinging to her skin. If the sweat rolling down her face was any indication, she had broken out into a fever.

With her one working arm, Areanel dug her nails into the grooves in the floor and pulled her damaged body towards the bathroom. She worked slowly as she dragged her body towards the door. The process was slow, and thick blood spread beneath her, smearing the floor as she hauled herself forward, leaving a trail behind.

Boots thundered down the hallway, and the door swung open, crashing against the wall. Bright light poured into the room, and Areanel squinted her eyes, turning away.

‘Areanel!’

Releasing a sigh of relief, Areanel knew she could finally rest. She knew that deep timbre, that voice—it was one of safety, of home.

Rymedur.

Chapter 27

Rymedur

The screech of a fork scraping across a plate filled the quiet dining room, so when Rymedur spoke, his tone cut through the silence like a blade. ‘Edmund—’ He winced at the harsh sound. ‘Don’t scrape your cutlery against your plate,’ he reprimanded. ‘And put your book down! You shouldn’t be reading at the dinner table, son. It’s rude.’

Edmund’s green eyes sparkled as he peered over the top of his book, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses. ‘Sorry, Da.’ His smile was sheepish, and he shoved the book onto his lap without closing it, hiding it from sight.

Dark, midnight strands fell into Rymedur’s eyes as he shook his head in amusement, and Edmund’s head bowed further—the boy was secretly trying to continue reading under the table. It might have been convincing, but every time he brought his fork to his mouth, his movements would stop as he let it hover too long, too engrossed in his book.

Rymedur really needed to talk to Percival about spending too much time with his son—Edmund was picking up his bad habits! Rymedur had no doubt that the book was one Percival had recommended—and, if he knew Percival… then it was definitely one of his more romantic novels.

Maybe he should also speak to Percival about that. Was Edmund too young to be reading something so… mature?

‘Edmund,’ Rymedur’s voice lowered, again reprimanding him. ‘You will have enough time to read once you and Sivan return to Selcirith. You are staying and studying with your nokomi. Are you excited to return?’

‘I’d be more excited if Grandmother—’ Edmund began to argue, but then quickly corrected himself when Rymedur’s eyebrows drew together. Rymedur knew his mother would personally bury him if he didn’t teach his children at least some of their Selcirith culture, so he had been privately teaching his children the language. ‘Sorry—I mean if Nokomi—would give us more interesting texts to read.’

‘Like the ones your uncle gives you?’ Rymedur sent him a teasing smile.

Edmund’s face fell instantly into an unamused expression that had the rest of the table smothering their giggles, and he shoved the hovering fork into his mouth before swallowing and grumbling something nonsensical under his breath.

Glancing around, Rymedur could not help but take in his children and their smiling faces. Well… all but one.

That familiar rise of sorrow threatened to bubble to the surface as Rymedur was reminded that Resmundur was gone.