Seffargo

Chapter 20

Barcley stood in his chambers, leaning on a single crutch as he watched over Madeline's sleeping form. Two fresh scars lined her face. One travelled from the corner of her nose in an arc to the side of her mouth. Another small one resided by her eye. Though she had been treated by the best doctor's Georgie had found—the same ones who were treating the King—the scars were likely to remain forever. They may fade or grow smaller, but the proof of her bravery would live on. Her scars were proof of her pain and suffering—of what she had endured. They were a story which deserved to be told.

Unfortunately, Margaret was beyond saving when Georgie and the guards arrived. It was a sad moment, even despite Margaret's treachery. Georgie had raised her since she was young and trained her for the best past of five years, and when she arrived to see the young girls still body, she had lost control of herself. Barcley and the guards had given Georgie time to mourn, and when Madeline was taken into the care of doctors, they gave her space as well. It wasn't until the early hours of the morning when Barcley passed Georgie in a hallway, accompanied by two guards, a body bag shared between them. Barcley had said nothing.

With Margaret gone, Barcley's mind shifted to the antidote. They hadn't found it on Margaret's person, nor had it been with the assassin. And the house ... It was bare, vacated years ago. Without the antidote, the King was sure to die. But, despite knowing that, Barcley couldn't bring the topic up. It would only cause further distress—and he had caused more than enough. Besides, there was no point mentioning it ... The antidote was the only thing which could save his father. Without it, there was no hope.

He moved to his desk and pulled the chair out, being careful to avoid dragging the legs over the stone. Though he longed to speak with Madeline, he would not wake her—she needed sleep and rest, as per the doctor's orders. He sat in the chair heavily, shifting his weight this way and that. No matter what he tried, he couldn't get comfortable.

He knew it wasn't the chair causing him discomfort; it was his thoughts. They were large and prominent and not easily swayed. Each one grew thorns and prodded his mind, demanding proper attention and care. But Barcley didn't have the strength to lend them his attention. He knew the answers to each thought would only pull him further away from where he wished to be.

Pushing aside the thoughts of his father and his future, Barcley forced himself to sit still, his back leaning against the desk, and his legs stretched out before him. Slowly he breathed, and soundly he slept.

∼

Something broke through the calm which had swallowed him and stirred his consciousness back to life. Barcley opened his eyes and yawned as he stretched his arms high above his head. He could feel himself sliding down the chair.

'Good morning.'

Barcley smiled as his eyes met Madeline's. 'Good morning to you to,' he said, his voice thick with sleep. 'Though I doubt it's morning anymore.' He checked the time, frowning as his mind struggled to read the watch.

'Was last night ... real?' Her voice trembled, and Barcley quickly slid off his chair and knelt at her bedside, his hand finding hers.

'It was. But everything's fine now, Madeline. You're safe.'

Tears appeared in her eyes and began streaming down her cheeks. Great sobs racked her body, her shoulders shuddering as the horrors of the night before flooded her mind. Barcley lifted himself to the edge of the bed and embraced her, his hand stroking her head as she cried into his chest. He could feel her tears soaking into his shirt, feel her body convulsing, her heartbeat, her pain ... He would stay as long she needed.

When Madeline composed herself, she withdrew from Barcley, but kept a hand firmly on his. 'I can't believe something like that happened.'

'Me neither,' Barcley said softly. 'My father warned me of it numerous times, but I never believed him. He said being with you outside of the castle—where anyone could see—would put you in danger.' He shook his head. 'I never thought it'd happen ...'