The Unknown Realm #4 (Waverly Stump and The 7 Realms)

XXVII

Steelware on the tray clattered as the young man slowly drew the chair close to the bed where Waverly would be able to effortlessly reach her food. He turned to her again, and his expression morphed into one of curiosity.

"Do you feel alright enough to eat?" He asked then pointed a finger at her face. "You have gone a bit blue there."

Waverly blinked herself out of entrancement when she felt her shoulder burn. Cyme had warned that the pain would return in a few hours, but she was not expecting to feel it so soon. She winced and reached for the bandage, then began to loosen it.

"Let me." The boy offered.

She glanced at him as he scooted closer and stretched out both hands - to undo the bandages, she thought - but he only allowed his palm hover near her shoulder then began to whisper clearly in the same strange tongue Cyme had spoken over her. The burning sensation instantly dulled. An incredible dizziness came over Waverly, and she slowly lurched forward, but the boy swiftly caught her. She lifted her face and found that they were nose to nose. He smelled of malvasias - a variety of grape that was used to make Elvish wine. A kind Diarmaid loved to drink.

"Cyme used magic on you. Didn't she?" He whispered.

Waverly blinked, gazing up into his eyes and shook her head. He helped her lean back gently against the wall.

"Sure she did not?" He inquired a second time with a stern expression. Despite it, a ghostly smile lurked.

She shook her head a second time. She had agreed not to tell a soul that Cyme used magic, and she was yet to know who the delightful young man was to the female Gypsie. Irrespective of the fact that he had said her name twice, there was no guarantee he was a friend.

The boy nodded, and a smile crept into his face. His right cheek dimpled. "She was right. You do look like someone to be trusted. My name is Rhos."

Waverly's eyelids drooped, but it was as a result of weakness than actual tiredness. She wanted to break into a grin. Certain Gypsie names sounded funny to her. If she had not been paying attention well enough, she would have believed that the boy called himself Rose.

Rhos held out his hand. "And you are?"

Pushing herself up, she glanced sideways at him. It was terrible that she easily picked interest in good-looking boys because then it became difficult to see past their faces at first. Deciphering whether or not Rhos was to be trusted with her identity was especially hard - even more from the way he stared on with an attractive smile.

"I will withhold my name until you have earned it." She responded quietly.

Rhos lifted an eyebrow and retreated his outstretched hand in utter surprise. His gaze traveled along the length of her upper body in a studious manner.

"Incredible." He breathed quietly.

Waverly was not sure what he referred to, but swallowed nervously.

He laced his fingers together. "You must eat before you pass out. You also do not want your meal to grow cold."

He lifted the bowl of steaming soup and handed it to her then did another courtesy of passing her the pancakes. The soup was incredibly delicious; filled with pieces of meat, chives, tiny vegetables, and rich fat. Waverly could not decide which was better - that, or the fish stew. The latter made her feel joyous for no reason. Cyme had proven an unbeatable cook, and she made a mental note to thank the Gypsie the next time they met.

Rhos, on the other hand, refrained from asking any questions about her, opting to keep her in light conversation while she ate. Before she knew it, she was feeling stronger and reinvigorated. At one point, he began to speak passionately about his position as a page.