Page 8 of Heart of Snow
Friedrich
The bed, softer and warmerthan any bed I’d ever slept in, was my first reminder that I was in Count von Waldeck’s castle. I relaxed each muscle into the mattress before opening my eyes to see a walnut canopy above me. Black wood posts twisted down to the coverlet, and I let my fingers run over the fabric, smooth as velvet, before sitting up with a groan. Looking down at myself, I saw my tattered livery had been replaced with a simple shirt. All my personal belongings were gone.
The letter.
Panic-stricken, I patted down the blankets and mattress to find it. I dug through the pillows but came up empty. Flipping back the coverlet, I gingerly stepped out of bed, crouching on the ground to look under the frame as a timid knock sounded at the door. I had little time to hoist myself back onto the mattress before the door clicked open and a beautiful face peeked around the corner.
The countess raised her brows in surprise. “You’re awake.” Pink colored her cheeks, and she lowered her eyes to the ground, stepping inside the room with her lady-in-waiting close behind.
“How long have I been here?” I asked.
The countess wouldn’t meet my eye as she walked to the bedside and put her hand to my forehead. “Three days. Your head is cooler now. Do you feel any chill?”
What I felt was the softness of her skin on my face. I never knew hands could be so soft, but it ought not surprise me. Nobles never did do much work.
“No chill,” I answered.
“Belinda, the electuary.” The countess waved her companion forward.
Mistress Hatzfeld brought a silver tray for the countess, who picked out a corked flask full of an alarming brown liquid. She gripped the flask with her fingertips, careful not to let it bump her bandaged palm. That uncomfortable tug in my gut was back, and I squirmed. Apologies had never come easy for me, but I couldn’t ignore my wrongdoing.
“I’m sorry again about your hand. I really was trying to help.”
“I know. It was an accident, and I shan’t hold that against you.” Her tone was light, untroubled, as if she actually meant what she’d said. But people did not forgive so easily. I wouldn’t trust her ready pardon.
The cork opened with a pop, and she put the flask in my hand. “It tastes vile, but it will help balance the humors.”
Gulping the tonic, I forced myself not to shiver with disgust before I put the empty flask back in the countess’s hand.
“Very good.” She sounded impressed and even peeked a glance at my face but quickly looked away when she met my eye. I almost laughed. Where was the bold, demanding woman from the other night?
“I’ll need to change out the poultice...” She hesitated, and I wasn’t sure why until she pointed to my shirt still covering my side.
“Oh, yes, just let me...” I fumbled with the blanket, wrapping it tight around my waist to keep myself decent, which earned another blush from the countess. When I wriggled my shirt up to show her the wound’s wrappings, she knit her brows with a determined focus. She cut away the old bandage, uncovering a greenish, leafy mud smeared against my skin, then took a clean cloth from Hatzfeld’s tray and gently wiped the poultice.
“What is your name?” Her voice was so soft I almost didn’t hear her.
“Friedrich.”
“And how were you injured, Friedrich?”
“A lancer hurled his weapon at me. He only managed to graze my side before I buried a lead ball in his eye.”
Hatzfeld’s eyes went wide, and though Countess Margaretha continued cleaning the mud, her silence suggested my topic might be unfit for refined ladies.
After a long pause, the countess spoke. “It’s healing, but not as well as I’d like.” She dropped the dirty cloth on the tray and picked up a bowl with more leafy mud, spooning the thick substance over my gash. “It’d heal faster if you kept in your bed.”
So she’d caught me hurrying to get back under the blankets. “I was searching for my livery.”
“The livery was burned.”
I froze. “But... I had some things, personal items I always keep with me. What happened to them?”
She put the bowl down to pick up long strips of cloth, laying them out at a frustratingly slow pace before answering. “Put aside when we dressed you.” She kept the last strip in her grip. “Belinda, would you send for them?”
Her companion bowed and put the silver tray on the bed, leaving the room.
“You... dressed me?” My neck warmed at even the thought of Countess Margaretha doing so.
