The Magician's Witch

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"Come on, one more," Eilis pleaded.

"Eilis, I love you, but if you try to feed me one more spoonful, I will take it from you and hurl it across the room."

Erik sat up in bed, holding the baby in his lap as Eilis insisted on taking it upon herself to feed him. She held a spoonful of yogurt to Erik's lips, from which he craned his face away.

"Love, you need to eat. And your stomach is still raw from the poison you drank, so this is the safest thing for you to eat at the moment. You didn't eat anything yesterday, and I am not going to let you turn into an emaciated corpse. So, come on, one more."

"You said one more three spoonfuls ago," Erik retorted.

"You're delusional, Erik. You're not feeling well. You don't know what you're saying." Eilis gave him an innocent look.

Erik looked down at Aria who was sitting against his chest. "Your mother is a tyrant."

Aria looked up at him with her big, gold eyes, then pointed at Eilis, as if asking, "Her?" She gurgled as if she was trying to form the word.

"Oui, mon chou, ta mère est un tyran." Yes, sweetie, your mother is a tyrant.

"Well, next time, don't get yourself poisoned, and you won't be at my mercy," Eilis returned haughtily. She held up the spoon to Erik again.

Erik sighed, giving in at last. Eilis smiled triumphantly.

"You are taking this whole 'through sickness and in health' part to a whole new level," Erik accused Eilis. "And I didn't get myself poisoned. It isn't my fault they can't stand having a mirror held up to their misdeeds." 

Eilis bit the inside of her lip. "And just what did you expect their reaction to be, hmm," she asked. "Did you expect them to laugh and pat you on the back, commending you for a great joke at their expense? You know as well as I do that these elite people see nothing wrong with how they conduct their lives, so long as they remain on top." 

Erik made a face. "It is too bad you didn't really stab the Khanum," he grumbled. He looked straight ahead. "And here I thought we had something special," he whimpered in a mocking tone.

Eilis gritted her teeth. "I have half a mind to do just that," she confessed, stirring the yogurt in the bowl rather more vigorously than she needed to. "I told her I would kill her if she hurt you."

There was a long silence. 

Erik shifted the baby in his lap, reaching out to Eilis, placing a hand gently on her forearm. 

"What you did was enough," he told her softly. "I was trapped there until you found me. I don't believe I would be alive now if it hadn't been for you."

Eilis' eyes misted over, recalling the dream she'd had, Erik as a boy being trapped in that house with the woman who had raised him, beating him when he misbehaved. She shook her head. 

"I'm sorry, Erik," she whispered mournfully. Her voice hitched a little. "I'm sorry she was so awful toward you." 

Erik squeezed her arm. "Do not be too sorry," he told her. "If she had treated me better and hadn't wanted to send me away to an asylum, perhaps I would have remained in Normandy. Or at the very least, remained in France. And then we never would have met."

Eilis smiled. "And you never would have been in the garden to rescue me from Azar."

"And I never would have learned what Rock n' Roll was. Or what a smartphone is."

Eilis giggled. She leaned in to kiss his cheek.  

"I'm glad you're sitting up today," she told him, changing the subject. "That is an improvement over the last couple of days."