DISCONTINUED A Court of Blood and Night Rewritten

31

Despite Antica's undeniable beauty, Chaol was getting tired of seeing it. He'd been stuck in his creaky wooden wheelchair for far too long, though Yrene Towers, who'd been healing him from the start, insisted he was progressing fast.

Not fast enough. Hearing about the attack on Rifthold had devastated him, and he'd been desperate to heal ever since. But despite Yrene's power and skill, it progressed slowly. Even after months of healing, he couldn't stand without support, though he felt stupid hobbling around on a cane-- not that he could do that for very long, either. Hearing that Dorian was alive and well had eased some of his urgency, but Aelin's fight with Maeve and her armada had come and gone months ago, and there had been mostly silence ever since. He hated not knowing what was happening.

Chaol reached for his cane and pushed himself off of the chair. Nesryn had been keen on helping him at first despite his despairing mood, but as the months progressed, he saw her less and less. At first, he'd been a little upset, but after a while, it simmered down to understanding. Nesryn was home, with her family, with her people. He couldn't blame her for wanting to be with them, especially when he was such a grouch in the beginning.

"Are you going to just keep standing there?" Yrene's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. She was standing on the other side of the room patiently, golden brown eyes observant. "Or are we actually going to get this exercise done within the century?" A few months ago, every sentence was barbed, but now there was a teasing note in her voice.

Chaol's mouth twitched upward for a fleeting moment. "I'm just postponing the inevitability that the moment I start trying to walk, I'll fall flat on my face."

"And that negativity will get you nowhere," Yrene scolded, though she allowed herself a chuckle. "At least try."

He did. He leaned all his weight on his cane, the wood groaning in protest, and carefully stepped forward. He still didn't have all the feeling in his legs, but the fact that he could feel them at all was a good start, he supposed. Putting his weight on his foot made his knee buckle, and he quickly moved his cane so he could catch himself. Well, he hadn't fallen flat yet. "Good," Yrene murmured, nodding to herself. He took another step, shifting his cane again, and he nodded to himself, though he was panting from the effort.

He was the one who began initiating the exercise, after Yrene took note that the muscles in his legs were beginning to atrophy. The response had been a slightly panicked one, though atrophying legs was the least of his worries regarding his injury. The malicious magic the former King of Adarlan had used to injure him had taken on a life of its own in the confines of that injury. While the couldn't spread its past the scar tissue it infected, it had gotten more powerful with every day the spinal injury was left untreated, and by the time Yrene had figured out that the magic was there, she quietly confided to him that she wasn't sure it was treatable. However, months later, and the progress couldn't be hidden. But as long as that magic was in there, he'd never be able to walk properly.

His next step was imbalanced, and his leg crumpled under his weight. He fell gracelessly and mumbled a few curses before heaving himself back to his feet carefully. Yrene looked him over quickly, but didn't move from her spot. "Are you okay?" Concern flashed across her features.

"I'm fine," Chaol reassured her, and began walking again, careful not to slip this time. By the time he reached her, he was panting and sweating, his legs aching. But it was progress. Last time, he'd barely made it halfway across the room before Yrene called it and put him back in that damned wheelchair. That was four days ago, and every day since, he'd practiced privately. He'd had the time, that was for certain. Khagan Urus and his children only socialized with Chaol during dinner, so he had the entire day to himself before he had to be diplomatic.

Yrene took notice of his sudden progress. "You've been practicing," she noted, and allowed herself a smile. At first, those smiles had been rare, but the more time they spent together, the more it came out. He liked her smile; it lit up her entire face, made her seem warmer. It was the kind of smile that made other people want to smile back.

"Yes," Chaol confirmed, though it technically wasn't a question. "Every day, since I don't have much to do." He looked around the room. He and Nesryn hadn't brought much past the necessities, other than a lot of gold and jewels that Aelin had sent with them. Though the Khagan refused it, Chaol knew it could pay for other things, and held onto it.

When he looked back at Yrene, she was studying the room silently. He decided to not interrupt her thoughts, and just stood quietly, though his legs were beginning to wobble under his weight. Finally, she said, "Perhaps I should take you somewhere, then. I'd lose my mind, staring at these walls all the time." He looked up at her, brows raised. She returned his gaze steadily. "Why don't we walk around tomorrow evening-- just around the village?" Chaol didn't point out that he'd be hobbling or wheeling around, not walking. Nor did he point out that he'd been given a tour already. Instead, he nodded, lost for words.

"I'd like that. Thank you."

With the session over, Chaol settled back in his wheelchair and sighed through his nose. Yrene left and went on to her next appointment, and Chaol was left alone. He looked around the empty room for a moment. Just because the Khagan didn't call on him until dinner didn't mean he couldn't go outside, he thought to himself, and wheeled his creaky chair to the door.