Page 33 of The Gargoyle's Glade
“The headache. How bad is it? How long has it been going on like this? Do you need a healer?”
“Hailon has checked me over and everyone else at d’Arcan as well. I’m just… tired. I think the animals are the cause, if I’m honest. Blocking them out takes a special kind of effort I don’t know how to control. It’s like I’m doing it naturally, but the more of them there are, the more it’s taking out of me. Greta made me that elixir, and Rylan said he’d work on a trinket for me, but that might take a while. Ophelia said eating something sweet would help, but I’m tired of honey and jam.”
I could only grunt. That was not a resolution. She needed Ophelia.
Unfortunately for us both, so did I.
I blew out a rough breath and made for the door. “Stay put.” The command indulged the growing part of me that felt driven to hide her away from the rest of the world, to protect her from it. That part of me was far larger than I wanted to admit and was refusing to be ignored.
“I may go to bed instead, or soak in the tub. Is that alright?” She raised an eyebrow, sarcasm heavy. She’d do what she pleased, regardless of what I asked of her, we both knew that.
“If you insist. But stay inside. Please. I’ll be back very soon. I’m going to get a few things from my hut.” Her eyebrows knitted, but she agreed with the slightest inclination of her head.
That was agreement enough for me. I drove my wings hard toward the ground the second I was on the outside of her door so no time would be wasted. I had several stone kin remedies stashed away in a cabinet, plus some old recipes that the aunts and my mother had sworn by for situations like this.
Hopefully that would be enough for now.
“What’s all that?”Merry asked still on the sofa as I set several bottles, some food and a couple of books on her table a short time later.
“I thought we might try a few things that work for stone kin, if that’s okay.”
The corner of her mouth twitched. “Alright.”
I oriented myself in her kitchen, starting a pot of water on the stove. I sliced up some oranges and added a couple of cinnamon sticks. Once it was heated and started to perfume the air, I put it on a very low flame. Outside, I used the water pump to fill one of her clean, shallow buckets with cold water.
Things long since forgotten from watching my father help my mother when she got her blinding headaches started coming back. I wondered what else I’d forgotten about her, how similar our gifts might be.
“This is going to seem a little strange, but will you trust me?” I asked her. She eyed the bucket, which I set down on the floor near her feet on a towel.
“I don’t see the harm. For my feet?” I nodded. She tilted her head to the side but sank her delicate little feet in to above the ankles. “Freezing,” she said through clenched teeth. “What does this do?”
“Helps,” I answered, because honestly, I wasn’t sure exactly, but it was a technique that stone kin used often for sore heads. “Can I touch your neck and shoulders?”
“Yes.”
I adjusted the direction she was sitting a bit and settled on my knees behind the sofa. She pulled her long hair over one shoulder, twisting it so it was out of the way. After taking a deep breath to settle the flutter in my chest, I reached out and pressed my thumbs into the tense muscles on either side of her spine. I massaged along the column of her neck, then down into the bunched knots along her shoulders. She made small noises of distress when I hit the most tender places but began to relax after a few minutes, her smooth skin pliable under my heavy hands.
“Any better?” I asked, and her head bobbed lightly.
“Yes, thank you. Can I take my feet out of the water now? My toes are starting to wrinkle.”
“Here.” I went back around in front of her and knelt again as I moved the bucket off to the side and used the towel to dry her feet off. Then I turned her so she was lying on the sofa, well supported by pillows, and covered her with the blanket she kept there.
Her eyes were wide, the pupils large, and her cheeks pink as she looked at me like she’d never seen me before. There was surprise there but also trust. My chest burned, heart thumping so hard under my ribs I was breathless.
“Try to rest.”
“I don’t like this,” she said, my heart kicking into double-time when I saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes.
“I’m sorry. I’ll go. I just thought?—”
“Not you, Coltor. This is actually really nice. I’m usually the one doing the caretaking, so this is new for me, but I don’t mind. You’re being very kind.”
“The simmer pot then? Some people don’t take to cinnamon.”
She barked a short laugh, then reached out to catch my hand as I turned to go into the kitchen. “Will you sit for a moment?”
I could hardly breathe, and my chest felt like it was caught in a vice. “Of course.” I settled myself carefully onto the low table in front of the sofa.
