Thorns

Chapter Four

For Briallan, the worst part of the entire ordeal was the waiting. The surgeon had arrived within moments of being summoned and it had taken four men to carry the unconscious Ezra to the physician's operating room. For what felt like hours Briallan paced the hall, barred from entering the room. Several times Mrs. Pennington attempted to escort her back to her quarters but Briallan refused to go until she knew whether or not Ezra was going to survive.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the heavy oak door which had done little more than muffle Ezra's cries of agony, swung open. The physician looked tired but triumphant and more than a little surprised when his gaze settled on her.

"Your highness, have you been waiting all this time?" He asked somewhat skeptical despite the obvious.

"Will he live?" She asked, stepping closer in a vain attempt to see past the man and into the dimly lit room.

"His injuries were extensive... I've managed to clean and stitch the wounds," the man explained. "Whether or not he survives is totally dependent on his will to live."

Briallan felt her stomach twist and was glad she had not eaten in some time. The mere thought of Ezra dying was unsettling to say the least.

"Can I see him?" Briallan asked, needing to see for herself that he was indeed alive.

"He's asleep, but I see no harm in it," the physician replied, stepping aside to allow her entry into the room. Briallan thanked him again and hurried past. She passed bowls of water tainted red, rags and bandages soaked in blood, and beyond it all, laying prone on a narrow cot, the near lifeless body of a man.

Dropping to her knees beside him, she gathered his limp hand in hers, squeezing it tightly before she brought it to her cheek. "I'm so sorry, Ezra," she murmured, tears building in the corners of her eyes. "Such terrible things should not befall such honorable and noble men. You must live so that I may thank you and ensure that you are rewarded for your bravery and courage."

"Your highness," the physician called quietly from the doorway. "The hour is late and I fear you'll catch cold if you continue to sit on the floor. Please, allow Mrs. Pennington to escort you to your room. I can assure you that your friend will not succumb to his wounds this night and it would be a shame if you fell ill and were unable to assist me in nursing the young man back to health."

Briallan knew that the physician's words were sound and that his concerns were legitimate. She only now noticed how cold the stone was beneath her and shivered in response. Rising unsteadily to her feet, she released Ezra's hand and made her way out of the room. In the hallway Mrs. Pennington was waiting, nervously wringing her hands.

"Please, your highness, I've already sent the girls ahead with instructions to draw you a hot bath," Mrs. Pennington explain. "You've had quite the day and need some rest."

With a resigned sigh, Briallan nodded and Mrs. Pennington sighed with relief. Motioning for Briallan to follow, the older woman lead Briallan back up the stairs, once again turning to take the stairs to the right.

"Mrs. Pennington," Briallan asked, pausing at the top of the first landing. "Where do those stairs lead?"

Mrs. Pennington turned. "Those are the prince's private quarters. None but he are allowed to walk those halls. The maids are allowed one day a month to clean them and even then they are not allowed into his private chambers."