Black Ice ✓ | Deathsworn #1

Chapter 15 ∞ Spy

By next evening after that eventful, moonless night, the stranger we had taken in had finally woken. As I was adamant on taking responsibility for his welfare, I brought him some stewed beef—just the soup part without the beef. If there were any meat, they were small bits he could swallow easily. His injury didn't really allow him much leeway with what he was going to eat. Kora said he would have a hard time swallowing with the stub left in his mouth. However, considering it was only partially severed, he still had hopes of regaining speech—though limited—and he would still be able to taste his food. There would be difficulties, though. Without intensive therapy, he would have a hard time and he wouldn't be at a hundred percent.

None of us were equipped to helping him with that.

I knew an easier way to help him, but that would be assuming that he'd be staying a while.

"You're finally awake. After last night, we didn't think you'd make it," I said.

If it hadn't been for Amber's interference, he would have surely already perished by now. Those Veil things weren't something to casually mess around with.

"My mother cooked some soup before they headed off for duty. It might be painful for you to eat, but you haven't had anything for the last few days, so it's important to eat something at least," I said, kneeling on the pillow beside his makeshift bed on the floor as I placed down the tray.

His eyes followed me as I moved—I didn't really know what to make of it, but it was making me very self-conscious. I wanted so much to know what was going on inside his head. I sat there hesitantly, my tongue tied as I wondered what to do next.

"Can you sit up?" I softly inquired.

He simply stared before lightly moving his head in the likeness of a nod.

"Then please don't mind me," I muttered, reaching my hand around his shoulders and carefully propping him to a sitting position. He had a wound on his side, so I was very careful not to aggravate his injury, moving him slowly until he was upright. He didn't let himself be too much of a burden. His hands were functioning albeit weakly, but I noticed he had abrasions across his knuckles—signs of getting into a fight of fists. Bound between his fingers, the amulet clinked. It shone a faint silver and blue under the light.

"Good," I said. "Mistress Kora said your injuries should no longer threaten your life."

He nodded.

I looked at him quizzically before eventually remembering what it was I needed to do. I picked up the soup from the tray and set it on my lap. His hands moved, twitched really. He pointed to the clock sitting on the wall across the room.

"Time?" I asked.

He shook his head.

Of course, he knew that. He could probably read that clock which was pointing at seven in the evening.

I racked my mind and realized what he was trying to ask. "The day?"

He nodded.

"A week and a day after I found you injured. Not sure about the specifics, but I'll check on it later," I said. "You can stay here and rest for a while until you recover."

His eyes fell to the soup on my lap. I heard loud growling from his stomach.

I lifted the spoon to his mouth. I could see he was very embarrassed to accept the help of somebody else, but he knew he was weak at the moment so he simply hung his head low and accepted.

"My name is Evyionne, by the way," I told him. "A little late in that regard, but better than never."

His one eye I could see was very expressive. I could roughly guess what he was thinking even though he wasn't talking. After I fed him all the soup, I immediately retreated. It would be too awkward to remain in the room otherwise, and there was no reason to stay. I wasn't the talkative type like Erenol, nor was I good at maintaining the conversation from only my end. It would be good if he could talk at least, but he couldn't. Aside from nods and shakes of his head, there was nothing else he could really do. Write? His hands weren't healed. It would only be calling for trouble.