Sisters Three (Completed)

45. Brenna (2/2)

Brenna examined the bruise along her jawline, gingerly pressing against it in the vain hope that it might somehow disappear if she could only just prod it out of being. Behind her, Robbin sat on the bed, going through the ordeal of getting his shirt off. She'd offered to help him, but he'd snapped at her sharply enough that she'd turned around her chair with eyebrows raised and let him struggle on his own. He was only just now lifting the fabric over his head, three minutes later, and she could hear his hissing as his ribs protested the movement. She watched him through the mirror, one eyebrow raised, her lips pursed. He caught her reflection and scowled at it.

"Shut up," he said, though Brenna hadn't said a word. She sighed heavily, pushing away from her vanity and coming around to her side of the bed. Robbin finally managed to squirm out of his shirt, revealing the mottled blue and purple of the bruises from that morning. His bandage from the old wound barely disguised the way his lungs could only take painfully short breaths, and how he leaned to one side to favor the wound.

Brenna frowned. "We almost died today," she said. Robbin scowled some more.

"We were fine. General Rydon got to us with plenty of time to spare."

"I'm sorry, but were you there when the crowd attacked us and was kicking me in the head? I think General Rydon was lucky to reach us in time, and we were lucky that the mob didn't have better aim."

Robbin didn't answer, instead easing himself down and staring at the canopy of their bed. Brenna watched him for a moment, then slid down on her own side. The blanket dipped in the space between them.

The silence stretched long enough that Brenna assumed it would last the rest of the night. It was often the case. Robbin would just close down and stop communicating. She knew he was used to being on his own, used to not having to share feelings or plans or ideas, but it still made her anxious when he closed her out. It also made her irritated, and she showed it by flipping back the covers and stomping over to retrieve a drink from the washbasin by the window.

It was while she was there that she noticed the glow of orange beyond the curtains. She knew something was wrong as soon as she saw it, and when she pulled the fabric back to see the view of a section of Latterstill, she nearly gasped. A whole row of houses were ablaze, lighting the night sky with a fierce orange pall. Smoke filled the air, making monsters of small shadows, and bringing the smell of burning wood even to the palace. The fire was perhaps a mile away, but it looked close enough. Brenna made a strangled noise in her throat as the flames licked the sky.

"They're burning the city now?" This came from behind her, Robbin's soft spoken words. She turned slightly to see his face, illuminated in orange, watching the blaze that would not be easy to control.

"Should we do something?" Brenna asked, hoping they wouldn't be required to make an appearance as the soldiers fought the flames. Choking on smoke into the wee hours of the morning was not how she wanted to end her day. The visit to Adair and the journey home had already exhausted her to her bones, and one more disaster would be enough to send her screaming into the fields.

Robbin shook his head. "General Rydon can take care of it. Judging by the fact that no one alerted us, he probably already has everything under control."

Blessing General Rydon under her breath, Brenna shut the curtains once again, sending the room back into darkness. She crept her way to the bed, crawling under the blankets and feeling Robbin's side tilt downward as he settled down. Turning over to face the wall, she slowed her breathing and closed her eyes, ready for sleep. Only it wouldn't come, and for some reason her throat went tight and her eyes stung. Before she knew it, she was crying. Soft, strangled sobs made her shoulders shudder as she tried to hide them. Normally she reserved any crying she did for when she was alone, yet this sudden and unexpected onslaught wouldn't be tamed for later.

"What is it?" Robbin asked out of the darkness.

Brenna entertained the thought of ignoring him, hoping he'd give up and fall asleep, but then she was rolling over, her hands searching out his shoulder. "It's worse than ever, Robbin." Once she said it, she almost wanted to take it back. This was her darkest secret, popping out of her as easy as a giggle in church. She burned with the shame of the thought, that they were somehow worse as king and queen than a civil war had been. Yet, she thought it. Thought it all the time. Anjeluund was worse off now than it had been for years.

Robbin sighed. "It's not, Brenna. You're just tired and shaken from the attack."

"It is," Brenna insisted. "They're burning the city now. They don't want us so bad that they're banding together to attack us. Did they ever so much as peep when Revours would occupy a town? They hated him, but they didn't stand against him." She tightened her grip. "They're standing against us."

"They'll come around. Once they see that I'm going to lead them into prosperity after this long war with Revours..."

"No, Robbin. They won't back down."

He shifted, pulling his shoulder away. Brenna bit her lip, afraid of the heavy silence stretching between them.

"I'm going to call Morna home," she whispered. She braced for an explosion, for his angry words and perhaps even a slap. But nothing came. Just more silence. "Perhaps if she is home, they'll calm down. The baby can be born, and maybe we can say that we want it to be your heir. It's not ideal, but it could calm the outcries."

He was silent for so long that she thought he'd somehow fallen asleep. But just as she was turning away to try and find her own dreams, his voice broke through the darkness.

"Fine."

That one word was more than she'd ever expected from him. She sniffled through her tears, a sad smile crawling across her lips. While bringing Morna home might ruin the plans they'd made, it still was a relief. Her sister would be close, home, with her family. She felt better about that.

Leaning forward, she pressed a kiss to Robbin's cheek. He stiffened and pulled away.

Apparently, he wasn't as fine with it as he said.