Sisters Three (Completed)

40. Morna

The sound of a plate clicking onto the side table by her side woke Morna from her uneasy sleep. Her bleary eyes blinked open, revealing a blurry form in front of her, white coat glowing in the sunlight seeping through the large window. She groaned, her head lolling on the hard back of her chair.

"Hello, Lady Morna. I brought you some nice porridge today. Put a little bit of jam on the top." It was Esmond's voice, which was a slight relief. The others were not nearly as gentle or thoughtful.

"Thirsty," Morna croaked, trying to push her mind back into reality by clenching her fists tight enough to draw blood. It was increasingly harder to anchor her mind to the world without some sort of strong tether like pain.

Esmond didn't answer at first, and she knew he was gauging whether she could be trusted with a drink. Last time they'd given her a glass of water she'd promptly spilled it all over herself just to ease the burning in her bones. Any liquid had been banned for three days as a result.

"I'm going to trust you, Lady Morna," he finally said, reaching down into the locked section of the wheeling cart they brought food in on. He had a small key he used to unlock it, and he brought out a can of water which he unscrewed the top of and held it to her lips. He apparently didn't trust her enough to undo her hands to water and feed herself. "Don't make me regret this, hm?"

The water hit her lips, tasting sweet. She barely registered as it slaked her thirst, more focused on how her very bones and skin seemed to reach for it as it slid down her throat. Like a dying man reaching for food as it passed so tantalizingly close. She gobbled it up as greedy as a dog, the water dribbling down her chin when she went to fast. Esmond quickly righted the can, bringing a corner of his coat up to wipe her face dry.

"All right, that's enough," he said, replacing the cap and locking the can back into the cart.

"Now, what do we want to talk about today?" he asked, sitting on the cot she rarely was allowed to use. He wore linen pants, and when he crossed his legs they rode up a little to reveal his shining black shoes. Morna stared at the glossy tips, wondering if he polished them or if a servant was hired to.

Normally he knew better than to wait for Morna to respond, but today he didn't have a chance to launch into gentle tales of his work day.

"Do you know stories about Pol?" she said, opening and closing her fists.

"The sea god?" Esmond asked, his voice lilting high with surprise. "I suppose. You want to hear about him?

She shook her head. "No. His daughter. There's a tale about her and the White Bay in Anjeluund."

"Oh." Silence filled the room for an agonizingly long time. Then, "I'm not sure I should talk about the White Bay with you in this state."

"What harm can it do?" she asked, laughing sharply and glancing at him through her sheets of hair. He looked back at her, his face so soft and concerned that she regretted her tone. "Someone promised, a long time ago, to tell me the story. He never was able to, and I'd like to know it now."

Esmond exhaled through his nose. "All right. But if it becomes too much for you, I'm going to stop."

Morna returned her gaze to her lap and nodded her agreement.

His voice was strong as the story unrolled from his lips. "Pol had a beautiful daughter, part human and part fish. They lived together at the bottom of the bay, in a castle made of shells, and the waterfolk loved their rulers. Especially their gentle princess. She was the pride of her father's whole world, and he used to brag about her to his brother, the god of war, Nur."

As she settled in to listen, Morna's head lolled toward the wide window and what lay beyond. The stretch of lawn, the thin and tall trees that lined the bank. And the river. The gushing, wide, monstrous river. She'd memorized every stretch of it she could see. The rocks in the middle, the places where it swelled and where it was calm. She had estimated the depths based on the coloring when the sun hit the water. It was her entire world, much more real to her than her pale and shaking body.

Morna. Dearest Morna.

Words now, real words. Never more than her name, but still haunting even her dreams. The water sounded so whisper soft, like a gentle kiss on the lips. She longed to respond, to run to the embrace she knew the river would offer her.

As she stared at the shimmering current, she thought she saw a person staring at her from its banks. Afton. She'd know him in any life, and she knew it was he watching her. He'd been in her dreams, always just out of her reach. Here he was now, haunting even her waking hours. Tormenting her even when she had her eyes open.

"Hey, are you still with me?" Esmond's words fought through her haze. She blinked and Afton was gone, banished back to her nightmares. She looked at Esmond, staring at this face as if it was the first thing she'd seen in years. His eyebrows drew together, and he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" she whispered, voice catching.

"It's okay, Lady Morna. You needn't cry."

She hadn't noticed she'd been crying. The heat in her cheeks disguised the warm tears, and she only felt them when they splashed onto her collarbone. Her breath caught in her chest, coming out in brief bursts, her eyes skittering from Esmond's face to the river outside the window.

"Morna." Esmond moved, blocking her sightline, though he wasn't supposed to. He placed a hand on either of her armrests, staring deep into her eyes. She tried to anchor herself to him, hoping to find some semblance of sanity for herself in the depths of his concerned blue eyes.

"Morna, the doctors only want results," he said, eyes flicking to the door as he spoke. "If you show them you are responding to their treatments, they'll ease up. Find a reason to want to get well, and you'll be out of this chair and feeling better in no time."

Shaking her head, Morna dragged her eyes away from his, her neck collapsing to one side so she stared at a corner of the floor. "The only part of me that wanted to fight died in my arms."

Esmond licked his lips, his frown increasing. Thankfully, he said nothing more. He just stared, and she ignored him. The sooner he left, the sooner she could stare at the water, imagining jumping in its depths and letting it sweep her far away.

A few minutes elapsed, and finally Esmond stood. He tidied up the food cart and took the handle, steering it toward the door. His key chain jangled as he unlocked the door. "Sometimes you have to face the darkness," he said. Morna scoffed gently, the slow tears now burning her eyes. "Try to get some rest." He closed the door, and she lolled her head back to stare at the rushing water. Alone with it once again.