In the Stars

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

History Lesson

As soon as the Foxes arrived, they took Owen into the dining room and began to work on him. They checked his vital signs and wrapped him in blankets that Charlotte brought down from the linen cabinet. She stood at the door, watching them with anxious eyes, her clammy hands gripping her biceps.

"You have medical training?" she asked. They'd brought a large, well-stocked first aid kit with them. Violet opened it and laid it's contents on the table.

James looked up at Charlotte, his focused eyes clearing for a second. "Yes. We were both medics in the war."

She nodded, going back to pulling at her ear.

"Why don't you go make us some tea? We need to assess for injuries," Violet said, looking at her in a pointed way.

Once the suggestion sunk in, Charlotte's face reddened.

"Oh! Sure thing."

Turning, she hurried into the kitchen.

She could've told them she'd already seen it all, but she was in no hurry to encounter his nakedness again. Especially not when he was so vulnerable; it felt like voyeurism as it was- no need to turn it into an ogle fest.

She busied herself with the tea. As she waited for it to steep in the pot, she took time to process what had happened.

It should've blown her mind. Owen was trapped in the statue the whole time. For some reason, it felt par for the course. That was a sign of how deep she had gotten. She was firmly mired in her parents' past.

And the past it certainly was. She would get the whole story now. She was ready.

The sound of shuffling and low murmurs came from the dining room. A few groans peppered this soft cacophony, which she thought belonged to Owen. This filled her with relief.

He's alive.

Refusing to reflect on this feeling, she got the cups ready.

James walked into the room after a few more minutes.

"How is he?" Charlotte was aware she sounded desperate.

"He'll survive. He's very dehydrated, and has several contusions. It also looks like they cut him with something- perhaps wire of some sort."

She winced as she remembered the blood. It had looked like he was sponge painted in it. "Has he said anything?"

"Not yet. We need to let him rest first, get him cleaned up. May I get a glass of water for him?"

"Of course!" She turned to the cupboard and almost hit herself in the face with it in her haste to grab a cup. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself and filled the cup at the tap.

James left then, only to come back after a minute.

"Violet will get him to drink. In the meantime, I need to know exactly how you came to find him." He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms.

"Well...that's an interesting story," Charlotte began, looking down at her toes as she wriggled her fingers at her sides. She had a feeling he wouldn't be too happy about her tale.