Page 91 of Whisper Woods

Vylushkiva.I have no idea why whoever is talking is whispering. They are doing a piss-poor job of it. I can still hear them over the ringing in my head. A pain only to be outdone by the pain radiating throughout my body.

What in the name of the Gods is going on? Why does everything hurt this badly? Why can’t I move? Why can’t I open my eyes?

I feel heavy, weighted down. Panic rises in me far faster than my sluggish brain can take control of. I try again and again to move my body but am only able to feebly jerk under whatever is pinning me. It even restricts my chest, bearing down on my racing heart.

“Hey, hey, hey, baby, shhh.” A heavier weight smothers me. It’s pleasant, though. Comforting. Vylushkiva,it feels good. An earthy scent teases my senses, a big hand stroking my face tenderly. I lean into the touch, rubbing my cheek against the cupped palm. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Seff?”It hurts to talk, but I need the confirmation that this is real. That this isn’t a fantastically awful dream. A nose nuzzles into the hollow under my ear.

“Yeah, it’s me, babe. I’m here.” He presses a tender kiss to my neck and I shudder a breath of relief.

“Why can’t I see? Why can’t I move?” My voice is threadbare, my throat feels like a thousand and one razor blades have torn it apart. I am so thirsty,my dry, cracked mouth making everything worse.

“Oh shit. Sorry.” I wince as Seff launches into action, the jostling making my head explode with pain. But the weight holding me down loosens and the pressure on my eyes disappears.

Gingerly, I test my new freedom, slowly wiggling my toes and fingers and sliding my arms and legs in almost imperceptible movements, so as not to send that same blinding pain through my skull. I’m on a bed, I realise. One familiar enough to be mine. Once I have confirmation that I haven’t lost the sensations in my extremities, I reluctantly attempt to open my eyes. I have a feelingthisis going to hurt.

The bed dips beside me, the tingle of Seff’s presence bolstering my strength. My eyelids flutter, protecting me against any impending doom. But the room is blessedly dim.

It’s my room, the heavy drapes drawn. The glow from a single lamp in the corner still sends sharp spikes of pain through me, making me hiss and shrink back.

“Shit, turn the light off. It’s hurting him.” Seff whisper shouts, causing someone to scramble to the light, switching it off. I try to lick at my cottony mouth, but it’s no use. “You need water? Hang on.” The bed dips again and there’s whispering in the room before I feel Seff return to me.

“You gotta be careful. You were hurt, like, real bad. I’ll help okay?”

I was hurt? I don’t remember getting hurt… Seff eases me upright enough to sip at the water he brings to my lips.

Oh. It hits with a flash. The cliff. The magic. The fighting.

“Brydon!”Seff pins me to his chest when I flail under the blankets weighing me down. Water tips everywhere and Seff curses. I don’t know what’s happening, but he wraps himself around me, pulling me into him and lying us both down while I frantically fight back. But my energy fails me all too quickly and I collapse onto him, letting him shush and rock me.

“Brydon is safe, Master Rafe. He is… he is being cared for elsewhere.” Sed’s sad voice breaks through the dark.

“Where? Why isn’t he here? We must go get him!” I try to break free of Seff’shold, but he only hugs me tighter, nuzzling himself into me.

“You can’t, Master. He is being held by the Palace guards for his role in… the events. And you, yourself, everyone in this room… You’re under watch too.”

“What?!” My bellow of rage is followed by an agonised cry as bright pain shoots through my temple.

“It’s only temporary. Just while the High Council figures out what’s going on. They just… need time.” Eldrid pats my hand.

“Get some rest. Please, Rafe. I need you better, okay? Please.” I turn my head to Seff’s, brushing my nose against his. A pool of tears on the pillow soaks my cheek.My precious Seff.For him… for him, I will rest.

***

My recovery feels agonisingly slow. Even though it has only been days.

After the first day, I could keep my eyes open without excruciating pain. Seff’s sweet smiles and my dimple were the only thing keeping the torment of my recovery at bay. After the second, I could sit upright without becoming violently ill. By the third day, the deep tears in my arm repaired enough to allow me to hold my own drink. I could even tolerate light by the fourth day, even though it took until the fifth day for me to go to the bathroom on my own without fear that the radiating pain in my skull would render me unconscious again.

Yesterday, day six of my confinement, I found the strength to argue, unleashing my pain and frustration out on any being who dared enter my room. Including Seff, who weathered it all with unrelenting tenderness. When I snapped and growled at him for daring to assist me with my lunch, he only laughed and kissed my head, calling me his grouchy little dragon like I was a child.

Every night, he has been here, wrapping me in his thick arms. It’s as much for him as it is for me, I think, considering how often I’ve woken to his whimpers and cries. He’s been there nearly every time I’ve opened my eyes. And if I dare wake when he’s not by my side, nothing—not even Estella herself—could keep him from getting back to me.

Despite the aching tiredness of his spirit, and the haunted shadows under hiseyes, he’s been here. His friends, too. Considering they, too, are under house arrest. They have been ensconced in the house with us, visiting as much as my fatigue allows.

Which is why, now that I am finally upright and able to stagger through my home by clutching onto the rather convenient and plentiful furniture, I am increasingly enraged by the utteremptinessof my home.

“Vylushkiva,” I spit, breathing hard from the exertion of not only making my way down the stairs, but across the hall to the dining room. “Where in the name of the Godsiseveryone?!”With each word, my anger increases until I am roaring, zapping the last of my energy. Panting, I slump against the archway of the dining room, squeezing my eyes tight against the return of my headache.

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