Desperation's Summit

13: Medicine

When Cordelia awoke the next morning, it was to a pounding head, a lung wracking cough, and a fever. After a loud sniffle, she added 'sticky congestion' to her list of ailments. Trying to ignore the agitation of being ill, she shifted and her eyes slid around the room.

Upon entering Rakash's room last night, she found a rough-hewn desk and chair a top of pelt-like rug and books in an array of amateurish to professional binding. She didn't know if the books belonged to Karina or if they were legitimately bound Trollish texts and her exhaustion had outweighed her curiosity. There had also been a large fireplace, attached to the one in the main cabin room, she thought.

It took her a few minutes to locate the stairs that led to the mezzanine-like partial floor above, where his more bed and dressing area resided.

On the left side of the bed, morning light squeezed between panels of a curtained window. A large, foldable privacy screen sectioned off a small area of the room, flanked by a heavy, crudely made armoire. Her eye caught on the occasional tunic or discarded sock, reminding her she was in Rakash's domain. As if the scent lingering in his blankets wasn't reminder enough.

Vague snatches of last night danced through her mind. Her run-in with the thrall, the magic that had sizzled from her fingers, Rakash's confessional backstory.

Cordelia rubbed her fingers against the blankets swaddling her, as if she could erase the phantom sensations still burning there. While getting the medicine for Ebra, she had quietly sworn to not indulge Rakash, flirtatiously or carnally. He had disappointed her. She didn't bed people who disappointed her. Or that's what she told herself.

Avoiding the thoughts lurking at the edges of her thoughts, she considered whether she should attempt to venture down the stairs, despite her body's preemptive twinges, and to the kitchen for food.

"How're you feeling?" As if summoned by her consciousness and appetite, Rakash appeared from the stairway with a tray gripped in his hands. The shadows under his eyes had returned, making his features as grim-faced as the first time they met.

Strangely, something felt something was softer about him. Though that might just be thanks to her illness.

"Peachy," Cordelia croaked, her throat aching. Uncomfortable heat, unconnected to her illness, crept into her cheeks as she remembered her impromptu bath last night.

Rakash brought the tray closer, setting it on the bedside table with a soft clack. Without warning, he pressed his palm to her forehead. It took Cordelia a breathless beat to understand what he was doing just before he hummed in consternation, "I was worried this would happen."

"What?" As he stepped back, relieving her of his cooler palm, Cordelia eyed the offerings on the tray. Thick greyish glop steamed in the bowl. She presumed it was oatmeal or gruel. A mug with a greenish yellow hue that was hopefully tea. A piece of toasted bread and - amusingly - a small bowl of fruit sauce.

Faintly, she wondered if a trolling or three had assisted on this breakfast. If so, then they were all feeling well. That eased an unexpected knot in her chest.

Also among the food was her bound journal. An odd offering, she thought, before she remembered. It was the journal with the proportions for the medication scrawled in it. Rakash picked it up, waggling it in the air gently. "Tell me the measurements."

She blinked up at him, not quite understanding before realization hit her. Ah... it was written in Common, wasn't it?

That didn't explain why he wanted to know about the medicine now. Her eyebrows furrowed further, a slow mounting dread sinking into her chest. "Why? Your kids are fine, aren't they?"