Page 56 of Stars May Burn

Finally, I settled at Kasten’s side, clasping his hot fingers in mine, wishing I knew of more ways to help him. I watched the clock, memorizing all the hours his medicine would need to be administered. I would ask Tom to dig up felixleaf ten minutes before each time and set up a station to prepare it in his room. The fire was lit despite Kasten’s temperature at the physician’s request. I opened the window to let in a breeze and sat back down before I was tempted to pace the room with anxiety.

I wasn’t sure if what more I could do at the moment other than wait.

I looked down at Kasten’s face, his black hair making his paleness more shocking. He looked so much younger asleep. He didn’t look strong anymore, just vulnerable. In a strange way, our roles were reversed.

I wouldn’t let him die. Not like Frederick.

“I’m here,” I whispered, entwining my fingers in his before pressing them to my lips. “I won’t leave you. Get better.”

Kasten

I woke, the darkness sticky and lingering around my consciousness. My mouth was dry, and my throat burned. I was in the middle of the battle. I must have lost consciousness again. I had to wake up. Had to escape the flames. My fingers sought for my sword, but instead crushed silk bedsheets.

I gasped as my racing heartbeat calmed long enough for me to recognize the clock ticking in my bedroom.

Home. I was home. I was safe.

I blew out a long breath and my eyes instantly searched for Sophie in the half-light of my room.

She was asleep, crumpled in the hardwood chair in the corner of my room, her neck at a strange angle. Her skin was pale, and she had to be exhausted to sleep in such an awkward position. Had she left my side at all? I wasn’t sure how long I’d been here. My mind was sluggish, and I wasn’t ready to relive my memories of Whitehill or remember the endless sea of pain I’d been lost in. That pain was dull now.

I pushed myself into a sitting position, ignoring the burn along my neatly bandaged side and abdomen. Sophie’s glass potion bottles and poultices crowded the table, and the smell of herbs permeated the room. I had to admit, the wounds hurt a lot less than I expected, and I didn’t have the burning thirst, nightmares, or cold sweats that normally accompanied my more serious wounds. I guessed I had my wife to thank for that. She had exhausted herself to care for me. If she wasn’t careful, she would make herself ill.

Next to the tonics was a flat metal disk with a twisting knob in the center. A reserve device. I reached out to the cool metal and turned it on. It was fully charged. Bless Callum. I drew strength from it, careful not to take more than my fragile body could bear. I placed it back and decided to see how far my body could go.

I grunted as I pushed myself to the edge of the bed and eased my legs over the side. Pain spiked to agony. I paused, counting deep, even breaths until the wave passed. I eased my weight forward and stood, taking care not to topple over as the room spun.

I cursed. I hated being weak. Even the reserve device couldn’t strengthen me enough to be able to simply walk.

I staggered a few steps before finding my balance by spreading out my good arm. My injured arm was strapped flat to my chest. When I felt it was safe to do so, I freed my bad arm from the sling and gave it an experimental flex. There was a new wound across the shoulder joint that wasn’t bandaged; the physician must have operated on it. It hurt to flex, but not as much as I’d expect, and it seemed strong enough. I rolled Sophie into my arms and carried her to the bed while holding my breath against the pain. I tucked her under the covers and winced at the smell of my sweat. Nothing I could do about that now. Her breaths deepened as she nestled into the mattress, and she looked far more comfortable.

I looked at the space in the bed beside her and considered whether to lie down again. No, that wouldn’t be appropriate. She would wake up and have a fright. I grunted and staggered away, helping myself to a big cup of wine before sitting in the hardwood seat. It was as uncomfortable as it looked, and my stitches tugged as I struggled to find a comfortable position.

I returned my attention to Sophie, struggling to believe she was right here with me. Her face was so smooth when she slept. She was flawless. The shoulder of her dress had slipped slightly, revealing the edge of her collar bone. I wondered whether it was more inappropriate to cover it up or to leave it.

I tried to keep my eyes to her face, but they kept trailing down her neck to that exposed skin, the shadow beneath. Maybe I should pull the covers up farther.

I didn’t turn as the door clicked open. Only one person entered without knocking. My heart sank.

“Well, this is stupid.” Callum flopped down into the spare chair, one of his own arms in a sling. “You realize you’re the one who’s supposed to be in the bed? And why is your arm free? If I can put up with a sling, so can you.”

I didn’t reply, just flung the empty wine cup at him, hitting him square in the stomach where it wouldn’t make a noise that would wake my wife.

“Ow!” He set it down on the table with exaggerated gentleness. “You need to heal, Kasten. Do you have any idea how lucky you are to be alive? You need to be in that bed, not her.”

I nodded to Sophie. “She’s exhausted. It looks like she hasn’t slept in days. How long have I been here, unconscious?”

“Six days. They drugged you after the surgery to help manage the pain and to stop you from moving. The arrow didn’t pierce your intestines or organs, but you still got peritonitis from the infection. The physician was convinced you were going to die at any minute. Not to mention the operation on your shoulder took hours. Physician Harris and Physician Jones both operated along with a specialist they summoned from Adenburg.” He shook his head when my eyes lingered on Sophie and sighed theatrically. He gestured to the other half of the bed. “She’s your wife. Just get in the bed next to her. It’s your bed.”

I glared at him. He didn’t understand.

Callum dragged his hand slowly down his face. “I can’t believe I’m about to use this argument,” he muttered under his breath. “Kasten, think about how Sophie is going to feel when she wakes up. She’s been slaving away to make you better; she’s the one who stitched your forearm and side, giving you poultices and tonics at all hours. If she wakes to find you in the chair, probably bleeding, and her in the bed, she’ll be mortified. Upset. You’ll be throwing her hard work back in her face. You’d better get your arm back in that sling too.”

I looked back to Sophie’s sleeping form and grunted. By the three kingdoms, he was right. Why could I never get these things right?

Callum massaged his forehead. “Just get into your bed and rest. You’re wearing clothes, she’s wearing clothes. You’re married. You never know, she might actually be thrilled to have some attention from her husband for once.”

I was too sore for his attitude. I scowled at him. “Get out, Callum.”

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