On Broken Wings

Chapter 3

Soft linen and warm scents.

My head felt heavy, my body weighed down. I tried to open my eyes. The world was dim and fuzzy.

A hand closed my struggling eyelids.

"Rest," he said.

*****

Hot.

Everything was burning. My insides were boiling.

He pressed a cold cloth to my forehead, nudging a pitcher of water to my chapped lips. "You must drink," he urged gently. "You have a fever."

I wanted to sit up, to see his face.

He eased me back to the bed. "Rest."

*****

My stomach folded in on itself, vomiting the little water it was able to contain. I gagged, leaning over the side of the bed.

He grasped my shoulders firmly, not letting me tumble over, some sick getting on him. I tried to push him away.

"Stop," I gasped between heaves. "It's dirty."

"It's not." He held on firmly, wiping my face with a clean cloth. "It's okay. Just rest."

*****

The fire was tamed by a cool bath. He supported my head, scrubbing my skin, not caring if water splashed on him. His fingers delved deep in my hair, lathering soap.

It smelled of lavender, and I was soon asleep once more.

*****

You must find Eden, Seraph Gabriel said, her image rippling. She stood in the corner of the room. Find her.

I'm trying, I wanted to say, but exhaustion made me mute.

*****

Bird song carried by a sweet breeze trickled through an open window. The shift of light behind my closed eyelids told me it was evening, closer to night from the early formations of chill in the air. I found I could see when I opened my eyes, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. The marble structure was made of an elegant mixture of pearl and pale rose gold. It was shaped in a graceful way, reminding me achingly of the home that betrayed me.

Sheer, floaty curtains flowed with the wind, barely obscuring the circular window. There was no glass, making the room open to the elements. I found that I didn't mind this, but instead liked the way how everything felt more connected to nature.

Plants with long vinelike fingers were perched on nearly every shelf, the green leaves bright and healthy, shining with vigor. A lone incense burner, placed strategically away from the plants on the nightstand, let off a vanilla-citrus aroma. Vials of medicines cluttered any other open surfaces, including atop a pile of haphazardly stacked books near the doorway, which was also curved in a wide half-circle. This room was clearly meant to calm, but I couldn't help but feel paranoid. Where am I?

I slowly sat up, wincing at the tender wounds still covering my body. Pulling the white robe tighter around myself, I uncovered, taking a hesitant step. The floor was cool and smooth to my bare feet as I made my way to the peculiar window, looking out, not expecting me to be stories above ground. It overlooked what seemed to be a courtyard, laden with neatly kept hedges that bloomed peach-colored flowers. A winding stone path ended at the roots of a large weeping willow, the long branches whispering in the wind.

"I see you're well enough to move around now."

The same quiet voice as the one that had taken care of me. I turned, eager to see the face of my savior, not imagining how stunned he would leave me.