The Weaver's Source

Chapter 30

In the early hours of the morning, I woke feeling sick and hot. My head was whirling horribly, my chest burned and my skin felt like it was on fire. Sweat was pouring from my body, soaking the shirt I wore and causing my hair to stick to my face. I don't know how long I was awake for but sleep blurred those memories, blotting out everything but the pain, the soft deep voice murmuring to me quietly and the gentle caressing of my hair. The next time I woke, everything was dark.

I blinked heavily and rubbed my sore eyes with effort. My arms felt heavy and weak. In fact my whole body did and screamed at me when I tried to move. I gave up in trying to haul myself up and decided to just look about. The curtains behind me were closed and the scent of smoke filled the room. The fire that had once roared in the hearth had died down to smouldering embers, blotting out most of the light and some warmth. Not that I minded now. While I sweated, I felt stupidly cold, even with the blanket lying only over my legs and the shirt hiked up slightly over my naked bottom.

I wiped away the sweat that dribbled into my eyes and lay in the gloom quietly. I couldn't hear much. The sound of the storm howling and the rain pelting against the window drowned out all other noises of the house. I didn't know what hour it was, it couldn't have been too early, but the thick dark clouds covered the sun, keeping all natural light to a bare minimum.

A tingling sensation suddenly took over my throat, forcing out a long hacking cough that left me breathless and pained. The burning in my chest roared briefly then died down again but the pain in my head remained, hammering hard against my eyes.

My cough had woken Grigore. I wasn't sure where he had been but now he was beside me, sitting on the wooden stool beside the bed and placing a small burning candle on my bedside table, watching as I rolled with effort onto my back. He reached out and tugged the blanket to cover me before he gently took my face in his gloved hand.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"Just beyond dawn." He replied deeply, his eyes flitting over my face darkly. "How are you feeling, Lyra?"

I wanted to lie, to tell him I was perfectly fine, that I wasn't that sick, but I couldn't. I felt dreadful. My body shook with fever and everything hurt.

"Not good." I replied with guilt.

He nodded and snatched at my wrist when I tried to pull the blanket beyond my waist. I protested, tried to pull my hand free of his firm grasp, but stopped when he scowled at me firmly.

"No."

"But I'm too cold." I protested and coughed lightly.

"That's the fever. Just bear with it for a little longer." He said firmly. "Do you need some food? You were asleep by the time I came back earlier." I shook my head which made him frown. "I'll get something small for you all the same." When I opened my mouth to protest but he frowned. "You haven't eaten in hours and you're sick." He said and stood. "I'll get Arthur to give you some more medicine."

I watched him approach the door then called him when he swung it open. He stood there, watching me expectantly as I twirled the hem of my sleeve between my fingers.

"I'm sorry, Grigore."

He looked mildly surprised. Slowly he closed the door and came back to the small stool, sitting heavily in it. "For what?"

"For getting sick. You seem to be in a hurry somewhere and now I'm stopping you from getting there." I mumbled regretfully.

He sighed heavily and rubbed his jaw hard. "That's no fault of yours. I should've paid more attention to you. If I had, I would've realised your magic wasn't keeping you healthy." He murmured.