The Midnight Storm (A New Dawn #2)

Chapter 21 - Nick

"Try these, Nick—they might hurt less." Alana's fingernails scraped along the wooden surface of the tray on his nightstand. Seconds later, she slid the leather-like frame onto his nose. Sturdy yet soft, yet still the structure scorched his skin.

Faster than he had received the spectacles, he removed them. "Can we stop?" he was almost begging.

"But there's only three more. The next ones—I can feel it—they're gonna be the ones. Greg said the wire needs to be held at all times, but—"

"Later."

All evening long, he had endured the Princess' new project. With the promise of a well-filled bag of gold from the treasury she had walked into the workshops of all Sundaler glassmakers; the result no less than twenty spectacles with frames made from different types of woods, metals, even bone and leather. Yet, seventeen attempts later, he was no closer to having eyes that could see.

"Shall I read you a story instead then?" she asked. Her hand touched his arm. "Whatever you want—I'll ask someone to fetch it. A fresh batch of books arrived. I asked Mama to buy this—"

"Don't bother."

It was too painful. Listening to stories bore too many memories of what he had lost, the skill he had considered as normal as waking up with a full bladder after a good night's sleep. It wasn't fair. The hours he had lived living the lives of others weren't enough to compensate that he would forever remain stuck in his own body and mind, bored out of his skull.

Others were hopeful he would eventually see more than the faint discolourment that from time to time appeared in the corner of his right eye, but Nick had lost all hope. Healer Mark hadn't made any promises, the disgruntled humming as he examined the wounds saying more than any words of encouragement.

"Then let me tell you then of how Seb welcomed Uncle River," Alana suggested after a moment of silence. "I swear, it was as funny as it was embarrassing. So—"

"I don't wanna hear about Seb."

"But he got a mountain dog pup, Nick. The precious little thing is so cute I wanna die." Her voice rose to a shrill pitch.

He couldn't share her enthusiasm. "I wanna die too."

"Nick..." She stroked his hair, an annoying habit she had picked up since he had been bed-ridden.

He avoided her touch by pressing himself against his pillows. "What?"

"Isn't there anything you want to do, apart from dying?"

"See."

"One day. Tomorrow we shall try those spectacles again, and I won't give up. I refuse to give up."

He shrugged. "Why do you care so much? A magician did this to me, not you."

"Because I'm your friend. I don't like seeing you like this."

"Blind."

"Nobody likes—"

"Blind people."

Alana let out a sigh that could only be accompanied by her typical dramatic eye-roll. He would sell his soul to the seven Gods of Sin to once again behold those cornflower blue eyes of hers going skyward. 

"Muttonhead, I wanted to say that nobody likes seeing you so miserable."

"You make it sound as though I have a choice."

"Yes, because you sound like you've already given up." The chair she had been sitting on scraped over the floor. His mattress wobbled as she sat down on his bed, what he assumed was her upper leg brushing against his shoulder. "You need to believe that you can get better, you must get better, Nick. I talked to Papa. He can arrange private tutors for you. You're clever enough to learn through hearing what others have to say, but a General you can never become if your condition becomes permanent. And you have to become Seb's General. It has to be you."