The Sculpture And The Sculpted

Chapter 18

Will had been too ill the next morning to find the strength to bid Margot farewell, but he found the idea of the kingdom being free of Mason's grip to be rather relaxing. His bed felt softer than it had for many days, and he happily slipped in and out of sleep, enjoying the warmth of the sun as it poured through the window.

He got up once or twice for a small walk around the castle or to write a letter back to Hannibal. He wasn't sure when the message would reach the man, but Beverly had promised that she would send it right away. He knew that the apologies in ink would not hold the same weight as they would in person, but he was sure that when Hannibal returned, he could express his regret in other means.

Will lazily watched as the beams of light, like liquid honey, danced and swirled as they entered the room, leaving a trail of ephemeral sparks in their wake. A faint whisper of a breeze accompanied the sunlight and tossed the curtains about softly.

His mind was wandering over everything and nothing at all. He could feel sleep pull at him once more and just as he was about to let it take him under once more, a hand took his shoulder. He forced his eyes open and turned over to look at Beverly. She took the chair beside his bed with a deep breath but said nothing, so unlike her.

Will frowned and resettled himself to better see his friend and reached out a hand to hold hers. She grabbed him tightly, but her focus stayed out of the windows and her voice was completely non-existent. Will gave her another few moments of silence before he thought he would go mad.

"You miss her, don't you?" he asked, breaking the quiet up. Beverly's eyes flickered down to him before returning out the window. "It's ok if you do. I miss Hannibal."

Beverly let out a very low breath and sniffed. Will could only stare in surprise as tears welled up in her eyes and one slipped down her cheek. Will couldn't recall having seen Beverly cry before and he was stunned, unsure of what to do to help her.

He pushed himself up in his bed, positioning the pillows against the headboard and scooting over to create more room. He waited patiently for Beverly to look at him again and he held his arms open for her.

She rolled her wet eyes and wiped the tears from her cheeks before shifting herself onto the bed beside Will. She rested up against his chest and Will wrapped his arms around her. He could still hear her stifled sniffles and he pressed a kiss to her head.

"You can cry," he muttered, hand rubbing up and down her arm as soothingly as he could. "I can feel it in you. The need to scream. Perched right under your chin."

As if the permission had opened the floodgates, Will felt Beverly's grip on him tighten to the point where it was painful. The sob that came from her was unlike anything Will had heard from her before and he pulled her closer. Her hot tears wet his shirt as she sobbed against him.

"Scream if you so wish."

"I hate it here," she blurted out. Will blinked, shocked at the words. "I want to go home."

Will wasn't sure what to make of the outburst. Beverly had come to live at the palace to help care for a worsening Theophania after Beverly's mother had passed away. Beverly's mother had been Theophania's maid before and Theophania was quite comfortable around Beverly, so it felt the perfect route to take.

As Will and Beverly grew closer over his mother's worsening illness, Will never heard a single complaint from the woman. Beverly did her duties day in and day out, waiting for the queen on hand and foot.

Will also knew that on her deathbed Theophania had made Beverly promise to stay and help watch after Will, which Will would be forever grateful for. But he had never once considered the idea that Beverly would be missing home. It was never mentioned, never spoken of.