Affinity

Chapter 14 - Aaralyn

Aaralyn spent most of the first two days after the ambush in dizzy semi-consciousness. She woke sporadically, each time only long enough to puzzle over how and why she got to her old bedroom in Nicholas's house, or to struggle in vain to distinguish the muffled voices in conversation around her. She would catch phrases such as "lucky to be alive" and "truly powerful magic" and "miraculous recovery" and wonder dimly who was speaking and who they were talking about before she would slip back into a deep but unrestful sleep.

On the second day, she finally woke long enough to realize that Nicholas was in an armchair at her bedside with a small stack of ledgers and papers littering the edge of her bed. His spectacles were perched on the end of his nose, and he was busy scribbling something on a loose piece of parchment as she blinked him into focus.

When she finally gathered the strength to say his name, her voice came out of her dry and aching throat sounding rough from disuse. She winced as much from the pain of speaking as from the grating hoarseness of her voice, but all that seemed to matter to him was that she had spoken at all.

"Aaralyn," he said, glancing up sharply. He cast aside his work, and stood over her to run a hand across her forehead and down the side of her face, finally cupping her chin gently as he looked down on her anxiously. "You're awake. How do you feel? Don't speak if it hurts you."

She shook her head and coughed quietly. "No. I'm— I think I'm all right. What happened? How long have I been sleeping?"

"Almost two days," he said. He reached to take her hand in his as he sank back into his seat and answered her question of what had happened without telling her anything specific. "When Dominic brought you to my door, you were a dreadful sight. I was frightened, Aaralyn. I sent for a healer immediately, but it took her a full day to travel to us, and when she arrived she said there was nothing she could do to help you wake. She said you were recovering remarkably well, unlike anything she had ever seen for how grievous the injuries were. She guessed there would be no permanent damage, but I could not relax as long as you couldn't tell me for yourself how you felt."

"You've been here waiting for two days?" she asked.

He gave her a small smile that surprised her with its tender affection. "Oui. Of course, ma chère. Every moment I could be."

"Oh. I— Merci," she managed meekly.

She relaxed against the feather pillows and stared up at the ceiling. She slowly became aware of the profound aching in her body. She moved to stretch her muscles and winced at a sudden stab of pain in her ribs. Nicholas frowned at her questioningly when she withdrew her hand to clutch her side, and she answered him with a quick shake of her head that caused her temples to throb.

"I'm fine," she said timidly. "Just sore."

He seemed to accept her explanation and turned back to his papers and notes while she took stock of her aches as they presented themselves. Meanwhile, her memories of the ambush were also slowly coming back to her with vivid clarity.

The nest had attacked them. So many of their people had died, and Nathan had been there.

She frowned against the swell of hazy memory and blinked, turning her gaze back up to Nicholas. She was suddenly fearful of the final outcome of the battle and realized that the papers he poured over must be the written account of the whole bloody disaster.

"Can you tell me what happened?" she tried again. Had they captured Nathan? Had they captured anyone? Would she be put on trial for the lives she had lost?

Nicholas's expression sobered, and he glanced at her over his glasses without lifting his head. "Non. We won't talk about it now. I need you to get well, and then we will discuss that night."