Page 60 of Changelings
And he would. He’d get that opportunity, for shewouldrecover. There was no other choice.
His terror and his anger sat heavily in his chest, bearing down on his lungs and making it difficult to breathe. Balar didn’t allow that to stop him, though. His Imogen needed him, now more than ever. He wouldn’t fail her.
When Diar returned with Sofie Brádaigh, a renowned healer, in his arms, Balar already had water boiling and was in the process of cleaning Imogen. While he allowed the expert to take over her care, he remained nearby, always ready to lend a hand as Sofie got to work.
He was there to hold Imogen’s hand and brace her as Sofie cleaned and rebound the leg. He washed her face with cool water and brushed her hair after she fell into a dead faint, then propped her in his arms when Sofie held a tonic to her lips.
His chest wouldn’t stop rumbling, but he kept it to a purr with sheer will. Imogen needed his comfort and strength now, not his fury. He was saving that for later.
Finally, it was time to peel Imogen out of her clothes and put her in something more comfortable.
Sofie arched a brow. “And are the two of you officially mated yet?”
“She iskigara,” Balar answered. “Her health is most important. I can control myself.”
“I’m not a prude myself, but how would Imogen feel about you seeing her bare?”
If their last interaction was any clue, then not well. Not yet at least. Balar’s ears swung backward, and Sofie nodded.
“I can manage. I’ll call when I’m finished.”
Balar grumbled at his dismissal but did as he was told. Stepping out into the main room of the cottage, he occupied his mind by considering what else needed to be done. Pots of water were boiling for cleansing and making tonics. He’d already cleaned up Shadow’s waste from what had to be at least a day stuck inside. The windows had been opened to allow in fresh air even as a fire roared beneath the mantel.
Movement caught his eye, and he watched through the open front door as Akila landed in the meadow. Balar strode quickly to meet him.
“Sorcha and Orek are on their way. They’ve packed saddlebags with supplies. Shouldn’t be another hour,” reported Akila.
“Thank you,urum-ka.”
His usually jovial cousin nodded gravely at the cottage. “How is she?”
“The healer is with her now.” That was all he dared say. Between Sofie’s knowledge and his own determination, though, Imogen would recover. He’d found her in time.
Clapping a hand on Balar’s shoulder, Akila asked, “What else can I do,akash-ab?”
Balar took a long breath, trying to clear his head. Soren and Kiri had the animals well in hand and would soon be aided by Sorcha. Diar had already set off again, retracing Imogen’s route through the forest to see if he could find any clues or explanations.
That left, “She has a sister on a farm somewhere outside Granach. She should be told. Ask in town—Emelda will likely know.”
“Consider it done.” And with a running start, he flung himself back into the sky, pushing up through the break in the canopy.
Balar hurried back into the cottage, the line between his heart and Imogen’s pulling taut. Stopping just short of the threshold, he scratched at the doorframe.
“Yes, come in. Almost done.”
He entered to find Imogen propped up against pillows, her nightgown over her top half with the thin skirts gathered in her lap.
“Come lift her, if you will.”
Balar was there in a moment, carefully lifting Imogen beneath her back and knees as Sofie straightened her nightgown. When Balar placed Imogen back onto the bed, she was clean and properly dressed. A little sigh puffed from her lips, and her head lolled to the side.
“That will have tired her out. What she needs is a good long rest.” Sofie reached to pull the blankets back up to cover her, sparking Balar’s memory.
Reaching back into the main room, he snagged the paper package he’d brought from Granach. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he’d purchased it from Emelda. Undoing the twine and tossing away the brown paper, he unfolded the soft blanket and laid it across Imogen.
She rewarded him with another sigh, her head turning toward him.
“I hope you like it,urisá,” he murmured. He tucked her in, fussing over the folds of the blanket, before stealing a small kiss on her cheek. She wasn’t as clammy as before, and that gave him hope.
