My Beautiful Mind

23.

I come crawling back to consciousness and notice my bruised, aching body is swaddled in blankets on a cot. I allow my eyes to adjust to the late afternoon sunlight streaming through what I think is a healer's tent before attempting to turn my neck to survey my surroundings. I'm only able to tilt my head towards the tent entrance before gritting my teeth at my pounding headache. My throat burns and suddenly, my need for water increases tenfold. It's only been a few minutes and I already want to slip back into subconsciousness, hoping perhaps this time, it'll be a blissful one. My eyes drift close once more just as I hear thundering footsteps heading toward my tent. I manage to peel them open when Mila, Adela, and Emy burst into the tent. Cordelia must be recovering in bed elsewhere.

The concern and worry in three intense gazes is too much for me to bear and I shift my head slightly to avert them. "Water," I manage to croak and Mila, grabs a pitcher of water in the far corner and helps me take small sips of the cool, delicious liquid. "Of course you would need water, your screams could be heard throughout the entire camp," Mila says lightheartedly sensing the tension emanating from the other two. Emy gently grabs my hands and brings them to her chest, "What you, Cordelia, and Wraethe did was incredibly–" "You're welcome," I interrupt in my still raspy voice, not wanting to listen to a lecture of how recklessly stupid we were. We fully knew what we were going into and still did it anyways. Why couldn't they just be relieved the war was over and move on? Adela reads my mind and she steps forward to glare at me.

"If you think for one bit that we should just praise your valiant actions and pretend you and Cordelia didn't almost die, you're more fucking dumber than I thought," Adela snaps. "Has it occurred to you that we couldn't give a two shits about Cymriath defeating Rumina and Risonene if you died? You might be living for yourself for a change, but I think it's about fucking time you'd get it through your thick skull that part of living for yourself is understanding that you mean so much more to us than you could ever imagine, that there are people out there who can and should care about you," she continues. Remorse and regret leave a bitter taste in my mouth as I register Adela's words. I peer into the still worried expressions and I look down at my scraped and bruised knuckles. "I'm so sorry. We just wanted to save the continent, to do something to protect the innocent inhabitants of this land," I whisper. I place my scratched, bruised hands over my face, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," I keep repeating over and over. Adela gently pries my hands from her face and I look up to find that the gazes had softened. Emy kisses my temple, paying heed to the stitched-up cut above my eyebrow and the bruising and swelling around it.

"We are forever in your debt for the sacrifices you, Cordelia, and Wraethe made to put the citizens of Cymriath and the people they protect first. What Adela is trying to say is we are so incredibly relieved we did not lose you," she says softly. Tears spring in my eyes and the various cuts on my face sting in contact with the moisture. "I wouldn't join you in limbo to send you off to the next life; I'd crawl in there and try to drag you back to the land of living kicking and screaming," Adela says with conviction, tears springing in her eyes as well. Mila kneels down and presses her own kiss to my forehead, "We'd love to stay, but a certain gray-eyed man is restlessly pacing back and forth outside."

Jamie.

Adela snorts, "When Wraethe flew back to camp on a fucking dragon with more following it and told us what you two were doing," she shakes her head, "he may be a reserved, shy man, but when someone he–" Adela stops mid-sentence, her wides slightly wide. "–when his best friend's in danger, Mr. Nice Guy is definitely gone," she finishes, ignoring the pointed looks from Emy and Mila. I close my eyes and groan, both in physical and mental pain. I'll have to spend a lifetime making it up to him, for probably giving him a heart attack.

Mila wraps the blankets tighter around me and adds an extra pillow under my injured head. I feel utter exhaustion catching up to me, but I fight to keep my eyes open as I gather the resolve to have no more secrets between us. Trust. Trust. Trust. Trust. "Wait, there's something I need to tell all of you–" "Sleep, Elin. Everything can wait until tomorrow when you're well-rested and on your way to recovery," Mila interrupts me gently despite my desperate protests. After they file one by one out of the tent, my crushing defeat is enough to send me into a blissful unconscious without icy, gnarled fingers and blazing heat.