A Dove's Tale

Chapter 81

My reflection still wasn't pretty. It was better than when I first woke up from being rescued, but it would be a long time until 'better' actually looked good. The swelling that distorted my facial features was finally gone, leaving behind a heart-shaped face painted in an array of colorful bruises. Black, blue, purple, green, orange - I looked like an artist's paint tray when the painting was done, and the colors were all mixed. At least my face didn't bear the same ugly scars that marred my skin from my shoulders down. The nightgown hid most of those, except for the jagged lines on my bare arms.

I sighed in frustration and forced my gaze away from the mirror to the doctor's callused hands, carefully re-wrapping my wrists, but my eyes slid past the bandages to the scabbed-over scars. They hadn't bothered me yesterday when he removed the stitches and declared I was healing nicely. Yesterday, I was happy with any progress. Now, staring at the exposed lines of brown scabs and pink scar tissue, I wished he would bandage them again.

"Could I change into a long-sleeved nightgown?" I asked when he finished bandaging my wrists.

"Hm," he grunted, running his rough fingers over the uneven marks. "I don't see why not. None of these have opened since I removed the stitches yesterday. I'll be right back."

"I'll be here," I sighed in resignation. He gave me an encouraging smile and left.

I sat there in the lone chair in the bright, tiled room, my eyes wandering as I searched for something to look at. The mirror, the dirty bandages in the laundry hamper, the caddy of medical supplies - everything brought me back to my arms and wrists. The doctor had considered casting my wrists instead of re-bandaging them this morning, since the rest of my arms didn't need bandaging anymore, but he decided casts would be too abrasive to the healing cuts extending the length of my forearms. I stared down at those bandages, remembering the horrible sound of bones snapping above my head, the feel of the air leaving my lungs from the blow to my stomach in front of me and the thud of my body hitting the stone wall behind me. That happened more than once. My broken ribs probably came from that, and so did whatever fractured bone made sitting upright for too long a painful ordeal. My tailbone? Or hip? I didn't know. Whatever it was, lying down was the most comfortable position right now, and I still hadn't had breakfast today.

Not that I was hungry anymore.

I hoped the doctor wouldn't take too much longer.

"Here we are," he said cheerily, returning to the bathroom after only a few minutes with another white nightgown over his arm. "This should keep you warm."

Keeping warm wasn't what I had in mind, but I didn't correct him. It was silly of me to be vain about my appearance when my broken body was still too weak for me to even help the doctor change my clothes.

"Belle and Rio left already," he said. "But Prince Clavis isn't leaving until Prince Chevalier returns, and I believe he has one more surprise lined up for you."

"He does?" I asked, my mood lifting immediately. Prince Clavis' surprises and the constant stream of visitors to my room had become lifelines to keep me from falling into the darkness of my own thoughts.

The doctor's gray eyes twinkled behind his glasses. "'Something to improve the view,' he said."

"Well, it can't be fireworks. Not in broad daylight," I mused. "He doesn't plan on moving my bed closer to the window, does he? I don't think Prince Chevalier would like that."

The doctor chuckled. "No, he isn't moving your bed. Ready for breakfast?"

"Yes, please."

My eyes were on the window as soon as the doctor carried me out of the bathroom, but not for long. A flash of white in my peripheral vision drew my attention from the drawn shades to the sofa, where Prince Chevalier sat, legs crossed and book in hand. His name escaped my lips in an excited gasp before I could stop myself, and his crystal blue eyes flicked up from the pages to me, a small smile playing across his lips. I think my heart did three somersaults in the time it took the doctor to reach the bed. Prince Chevalier's eyes were back on his book by then, and my stomach was so full of butterflies, I didn't think there was room for breakfast anymore.